Page 25 of A Provincial Peer

“Good day, Mr. Giles.” Meg had gone from hopping to skipping. “Did the baby cows miss me?”

Giles gave a throaty laugh. “I reckon they did, though they’re not so good at tellin’ me these things as they should be.” He pointed to the nearest stalls. “There’s not many of ’em left in ’ere anymore.”

Meg’s movement slowed. “Where are they?”

“In the pasture, with th’ other cows.” He crossed to a stall gate a few feet to their right. “But there’s two in ’ere that ya can take a look at. They were bran’ new when you were ’ere afore.”

Meg scampered after him. Caroline followed more slowly. While they were alone in the barn, she was tempted to ask the older man if he’d dropped off some milk at the Trilbys’ house earlier this morning, but she wasn’t sure how much Lord Benning had planned to tell him. It was likely better if Giles was unaware of her involvement in the scheme.

“Is Lord Benning at the farm this morning?” she asked instead.

“I ’aven’t seen ’im yet. ’E’s usually ’ere by now, so I’m guessin’ some’at came up at th’ ’ouse t’ keep ’im there today.”

Caroline had offered the question out of politeness—along with a desire for some forewarning should the gentleman be expected—so she was unprepared for the flicker of disappointment she experienced upon hearing Giles’s response. “I’m sure he has a great many matters to see to.”

“That, ’e does.” Giles opened the gate so Meg could walk into the stall. “I’m alwus amazed at ’ow much time ’e spends at th’ farm.” He chuckled. “Seein’ as ’e could be just about anywhere, I reckon it means ’e likes bein’ ’ere in th’ muck with me an’ th’ animals.”

Caroline was inclined to agree. She also thought it likely that Lord Benning enjoyed working alongside Giles. Notwithstanding the cowman’s unmatched skill and experience with cattle, he was unpretentious and kind. Caroline had been around enough men—particularly the naval officers and sailors in Portsmouth—to know what a rare combination that was.

“I like being in the muck with the animals too,” Meg declared, cheerfully tromping through the dirty straw to approach a wary calf.

“Steady now.” Giles reached out his work-worn hand to slow her. “We need t’ give th’ little fella a minute t’ get used t’ us bein’ in ’ere.”

“But what if he remembers me already?”

“Then ’e’ll come round that much faster.”

Thankfully, Meg heeded the cowman’s warning and stood still long enough for the jittery calf’s fears to subside.

“Nice an’ slow, now,” Giles said, taking Meg’s hand. “We’ll get a little closer, an’ then ya can go over t’ th’ stables an’ see th’ ’orses.”

Caroline stood beside the gate, watching while Giles guided Meg’s hand to softly pat the calf’s back. The calf turned its head to lick Meg’s fingers. The little girl giggled, and Caroline smiled. After the heaviness of the last few months, it was a gift to see Meg so joyful.

* * *

Benedict cut through the orchard with long strides. Mr. Sedgewick had arrived at the house with his cart full of saplings less than an hour after the post had come. Benedict’s examination of the young trees had been encouraging. Each one had appeared healthy, and as Dunsbourne had suggested, Sedgewick’s asking price for the delivery had been fair. Upon receiving his payment, the fellow had been good enough to transport his cargo to the orchard, where three of Benedict’s men had unloaded the trees and begun digging the holes necessary for planting them.

Now that Sedgewick was gone, however, Benedict had left his men to get on with their work. If he was fortunate and Meg was as enamored with the horses as she’d been with the calves, he might yet catch her and Caroline before they left the stables.

The orchard ended at a low stone wall. Not bothering to walk down to the gate, Benedict vaulted over it, landing in the pasture on the other side. Half a dozen cows looked up from their grazing to eye him curiously. Ignoring them, Benedict made directly for the gate on the other side of the field. It led into the farmyard and gave him a clear view of the stable, barn, and milking parlor.

There was no one in the farmyard when he reached it, but his hopes rose when a young voice reached him through the open stable door.

“He’s big.”

“Aye, ’e is that.” It sounded like his groom, John. “’E’s right ’andsome as well, don’t ya think?”

“Yes, but he’s very, very big.”

Benedict grinned. He had a fairly good idea which horse Meg was talking about. Saxon’s stall was close enough to the stable entrance that the voices of anyone standing beside it would carry into the yard. He reached the open door and stepped inside. Caroline was standing a couple of yards away, her back to him. John was at Saxon’s stall, running his hand down the horse’s elegant neck. Meg was beside him, her head back and her eyes fixed on the black stallion towering above her.

Saxon’s ears twitched, and he nickered. The stallion knew he was there.

That was all it took for John to realize it too. He stepped back from the stall gate and bowed his head. “Good day, m’lord.”

Caroline swung around. Benedict wished he could see her face, but it was hidden beneath a fringe of lace.

“Good day,” he said.