Page 7 of Sinfully Mine
Ugh.
Joshua hadn’t stood a chance at defeating Sinclair across a card table, not with all that smug charm and excessive politeness. He’d probably been shocked at losing. Not a hint of the journey from London even showed on Sinclair. No gleam of moisture on his brow, though the day was warm. No dirt on his boots or dust on his coat. He could have just left the ministrations of his valet.
Hester, on the other hand, spent her days covered in sweat and smelling of animals or manure. And she would continue to do so to benefit this card wielding dandy so that Blackbird Heath would survive.
So I will survive.
“Blackbird Heath is a lovely estate,” he ventured over his shoulder. “More of a farm, I suppose.”
“You seem surprised. Was it the sheep grazing over the rise or the barn that gave it away?” Hester closed her mouth before she could say more. Sarcasm would not get her what she wanted.
Sinclair raised a brow. “Mr. Black gave me the impression that Blackbird Heath, hisestatewhich is also a farm,” he emphasized, “was of little value.”
There it was. The flash of ruthlessness. Greed. A hard edge hiding behind all that masculine beauty.
“My husband did not appreciate Blackbird Heath as I do. He didn’t see the value of growing crops or tending sheep. But doing so keeps one well fed. Comfortable.”
“I’ve never cared for the countryside overmuch, Mrs. Black. I prefer London.”
Well, that was good. He wouldn’t want to stay here long. “My husband did as well.” She swallowed. Now was as good a time as any to start the discussion she hoped would have a positive outcome. “As you can imagine, I wasn’t pleased to be informed of the change to my husband’s will. I did not find out until after his funeral. I should like to put forth a proposal, if I may, Mr. Sinclair.”
“A proposal?” Sinclair returned to his seat; a glass of amber colored liquid clutched in one hand. He raised the glass and sniffed, nose wrinkling, but did not take a sip. “That sounds vaguely improper on such short acquaintance.”
Sinclair’s words had a lazy, seductive quality as if he’d just awoken from a nap and was stretching across the sheets of his bed. Another ripple of sensation wafted along Hester’s arms and she struggled to keep from flinging the entire pot of tea in his handsome face. Attraction to a man, especially this man, wasn’t something she’d prepared for. It was unsettling.
“My proposal is one of a financial nature, Mr. Sinclair. As you’ve seen, Blackbird Heath is mostly pasture and fields. More farm than estate, as you’ve mentioned. We grow potatoes. Sugar Beets. Turnips. Cabbages—”
Sinclair frowned. “I’m not fond of cabbage.”
“A great many people are. On the north pasture, sheep. The sort only bred in Lincolnshire with long wool. My herd is small at present but growing. Vastly profitable.”
A flicker of interest shone in the eyes. “Pigs?”
Hester took a deep breath. Perhaps they could come to an understanding. “Yes. Pigs. Chickens. The crops are the most profitable part of our enterprise and I’ve also started producing honey, but the demand for wool will eventually—”
Sinclair held up a hand, stopping her. “I’m sure your animal husbandry is second to none, Mrs. Black. But as I mentioned, I don’t care for the country. London is more my preference.”
“The proposal I would like to offer you does not require you to reside at Blackbird Heath.” She took a deep breath. “I would manage the farm on your behalf. Keep Blackbird Heath profitable. You need not do anything. I would consult you on large expenses, of course.” She wouldn’t, but Sinclair was highly unlikely to look at the ledgers on a regular basis.
“Of course.” He leaned back in his chair, glass clutched in one hand. “I would expect nothing less.” The glass raised and he took a sip, grimacing slightly.
“You would have a steady stream of income for your various pursuits,” she finished. “I would not bother you except to send you funds. You need never come to Lincolnshire again.”
“Why, you make it seem as if I’ll be a kept man, Mrs. Black. What sort of pursuits do you think I have?”
“You prefer London; thus, I would assume your interests lie there as well. You seem to be a gentleman much like my husband.” Hester had to pause lest too much disdain bleed into her words. “Mr. Black did not care to reside in the country and also required a great deal of income to support his lifestyle. In London.”
Sinclair rolled the glass between his hands. “I see.”
Hester cleared her throat. “I have been managing Blackbird Heath on my own for years, Mr. Sinclair. I realize this is somewhat unusual, but I am land manager in everything but name. I know what I’m doing.”
“That is abundantly clear, Mrs. Black.”
“Surely you can see the benefit of allowing things to continue as they are.” Sinclair didn’t strike her as obtuse, only arrogant. “You would have no responsibility. I wouldn’t expect you to assist me with anything.”
His elegant fingers drummed along the edge of his glass. “How selfless of you, Mrs. Black. You continue to reside here, milking cows and growing cabbage while I return to London. I must admit that your proposal has merit, though it is highly unconventional.”
Hester held her breath for a space, waiting for him to agree. Her fingers returned to her lap to twist about.
