Page 42 of A Provincial Peer

“The ones who had not suffered from it before this outbreak became ill,” Benedict admitted. “Thankfully, none of them severely.”

“I am glad to hear it.” She appeared thoughtful. “Now that we are in the country and not so tied to the dictates of Society, I believe I could occasionally order tea to be served at three o’clock.”

“What a novel idea.” Humor lit Benedict’s eyes. “I daresay it is possible that on those same days, I could arrive a little late to the afternoon milking.”

“Splendid.” Lady Farwell gave a triumphant smile. “And we shall have Caroline join us too.”

Startled by her sudden inclusion in the conversation and the invitation, Caroline stammered the expected response. “I . . . I would be honored, my lady.” And she would, as long as Benedict and Lady Farwell were the only other attendees. Unfortunately, Lady Farwell was known for having a wide circle of acquaintances and for entertaining them regularly. Sarah, Molly, Hester, and members of the Farwell household had all been remarkably accepting of her appearance, but Caroline had experienced the opposite in Portsmouth. More times than she wished to count. The awful blend of horror, pity, and shunning had been crushing, and even though her confidence had improved since coming home, she was not yet prepared to put it to the test with others in High Society.

“It is settled, then.” Lady Farwell beamed. “I shall send out invitations for next week.”

* * *

Benedict’s parents had been in residence for less than an hour, and already his well-meaning mother had gone too far. One look at Caroline’s stricken expression confirmed what he’d already known: she had no wish to face a parlor full of ladies. Particularly if those ladies were virtual strangers. In truth, neither did he. Experience had taught him to studiously avoid being outnumbered by his mother’s friends in a social setting.

He glanced around the room. A maid entered from the scullery. She met his eyes before quickly lowering her head to resume her work. He stifled a sigh. Given the choice, he would rather not conduct this conversation within the hearing of the kitchen staff or Caroline and Meg, but clearing the room would only promote unfounded gossip, and he knew full well that if he did not curtail his mother’s plans, they would immediately mushroom out of control.

“If you intend to organize one of your grand tea parties, Mother, I would suggest that you not include me or Caroline on the guest list. I agreed to have tea with you, not a small army of senior ladies intent on promoting their eligible daughters and granddaughters. And unless I’ve fully missed the mark, I believe Caroline would far rather spend time conversing privately with you over a cup of tea than listening to said ladies discuss their bridge game, the weather, or me.”

“Really, Benedict!”

Ignoring his mother’s chastising tone, Benedict maintained a grim expression. “Yes. Really.” As much as he hated drawing attention to his marital status, he’d rather do that than add to Caroline’s discomfort. He set his hands on Meg’s shoulders, wishing he could place them over her ears instead. “I have repeatedly told you that I despise being the subject of matchmaking discussions, but since you claim that such conversations are inevitable when one is the mother of an unmarried heir to an earldom, I will remind you that I make a point of being absent at any events that involve your friends plotting ways in which young ladies of their choosing might finagle an invitation to Farwell Hall or an introduction to me.”

Meg’s shoulders shifted, and he glanced down to see her looking at him.

“Why do the ladies want to visit you, Lord Benting?” she asked. “Do they want to sail boats and visit the baby cows too?”

“I’m afraid not.”

She scrunched her face in thought. “Ride the pony?”

Despite his underlying frustration, Benedict could not prevent a smile from forming. Lud. Everyone deserved a Meg in their lives. “Unfortunately,” he said, “I do not think they would be satisfied with a pony ride either.” Having made his objections to his mother’s grand plans perfectly clear, and anxious to put the awkward subject aside, he crouched before Meg. “You, on the other hand, need to be taken home, and if your mother is willing, perhaps we might ride there together.”

She gasped, her eyes widening. “On the pony?”

“If the carriage horses were rested, I would suggest a ride in the barouche, but since they were stabled so recently, I had thought that your mother could ride one of our mares and you might join me on Saxon.”

“Oh, no,” Caroline said. “I would not have you go to such trouble on our account. It will not take us long to walk home.”

“Walking home is out of the question.” Benedict rose. She had pushed herself hard to reach Farwell Hall quickly after Meg’s accident. The short time she’d spent in the rocking chair had hardly been enough to replenish her strength. “Neither of you is in any condition to make that journey on foot.”

“There is no point in arguing, Caroline.” His mother spoke for the first time since his mutinous declaration. “In this instance, Benedict is right. And as you just witnessed, he can be infuriatingly stubborn.”

Torn between building on his mother’s words of support and defending his supposed stubborn streak, he opted for persuasion instead. “I have yet to take Saxon out today. He will be thrilled to have an outing.”

Meg quickly followed his lead. “Please, Mama.”

“Can you manage Meg if she’s wrapped in a blanket?” Caroline asked.

“Absolutely.” He reached for the covering lying on the rocking chair, glad that this battle, at least, appeared to be over before it had truly begun. “One of the maids can bundle up Meg’s damp clothing.” He hesitated. “Forgive me. I should have asked if you are comfortable on horseback.”

She nodded. “It’s been some time since I was last in a saddle, but I do enjoy riding.”

“Have her take Poppy, Benedict,” his mother said. “I believe she will suit Caroline very well.”

“Agreed.”

Benedict could not help but feel a pang of regret at his mother’s look of surprise at his positive response to her suggestion. In truth, the amount of time he spent working on the farm and his lack of interest in having young ladies thrust upon him notwithstanding, they thought alike on most things.