Page 23 of Entrancing the Earl
Damn and double damn. He’d have to start practicing law just to keep himself in clothes at this rate. An earl practicing law! Society would shake.
He sat down with Avery that afternoon over the estate books. “There hasn’t been a raise in tenant rates in years,” Gerard pointed out, hoping to bring in more income to cover maintenance, at least. “Most of them have been with us long enough to have improved their plots, and the cost of improvements to the cottages are going up. Isn’t it time?”
Avery grimaced. “Their families are growing. We’ll lose our best tenants if we ask them to pay more. I wanted to suggest...”
He went off into an old argument of removing the orchard and adding sheep that would put Wystan even deeper into a hole before it could pull out. A bee landed on the desk. Avery started to swat it but Gerard waved it away. His medallion grumbled. Restless, he studied the open window. Roses grew outside it as well. He couldn’t remember roses there in prior years.
Finally, Gerard couldn’t take looking at books any more. He stood up. “I want to have a look at the orchards, visit a few tenants. We’ll not survive long if we’re spending more than we’re earning.”
“We’re breaking even, my lord,” Avery protested. “You’ve seen the books yourself. There’s no need to trouble yourself—”
Buzzing bees and grumbling medallions said there was a need to get out of his head and into the real world. This morning’s experience with Winifred gnawed at him. He wouldn’t find profits looking at books. He wouldn’t find treasure—or danger—sitting on his rump.
He hated the idea of razing the orchards, but if it had to be done...
“The beekeeper’s honey is already putting the household books in the black,” Gerard informed his steward, with only a slight exaggeration.
“Not if you count the cost of new hives and fences and slowing down the apple harvest with those ridiculous borders.” Avery stomped out after him. “Mark my word, my lord, those hives will be more trouble than they’re worth. They should be removed with the orchard.”
“Why do the sales of our cider continue to decline?” Gerard strode for the stable. “I thought the improvements we budgeted should have turned sales around.”
He should have spoken with the old man in charge of the orchards yesterday, but he’d done his usual cursory ride in his hurry to leave. The whole point of paying an estate agent was for theagentto talk to the labor.
But then, he’d thought he had Winifred to do the same for the household. He was the friggin’ earl. He wassupposedto know more than Avery and Winifred. Hedidknow, but he could only use what he’d been told, and they hadn’t known what to tell him.
And he hadn’tasked. He’d simply skimmed the surface, let everyone continue as they’d always done, and never once questioned.
Riding in front to avoid replying, Avery cursed at a sight Gerard couldn’t see yet, and spurred his mount ahead.
His educated land agent seldom behaved as less than a gentleman. Gerard scanned the orchard for what had Avery agitated. A fox? A poacher?
All he could find was Iona talking to the wizened old orchardist.
Iona had knownthey were coming—the bees had warned her.
But after last night, she had to learn how far she could trust the Earl of Ives and Wystan. A landowner who only visited once a year didn’t rate high on her trustworthy scale, but for now, she gave him benefit of the doubt. She’d deliberately detained the orchardist until the earl arrived.
“What are you doing here?” Avery snarled as he rode up in a flurry of dust. “We don’t need you slowing down the harvest.”
“I don’t think Nan and Barkley are interfering with the pickers,” Gerard said with unconcern, riding up behind his agent. “How do you do, Barkley? And how do our apples fare this year?”
Iona had learned the old orchardist had given charge of the picking to his eldest son years ago, but he still knew his trees. She waited for Barkley to speak what he’d told her.
Instead, the old man gave Avery a wary look and merely said, “I’m right fine, my lord.”
Angered by his need for reticence, Iona defiantly answered the rest of the earl’s question. “The orchard isaging, my lord.The oldest part should have been replaced a decade ago. One bad winter is likely to take half your ancient trees.”
The earl frowned. “I thought we had a rotation plan in place, Avery?”
“The trees are fine,” the steward growled. “Females don’t know anything.”
Avery reeked of a liar’s rancid sweat. He knew what was wrong.
“Barkley knows trees better than anyone,” Iona retorted, glaring at earl and steward. “Tell him he’ll keep his position if he answers truthfully.”
“Of course you’ll keep your position, Barkley,” the earl responded with unusual snappishness. “You’ve worked for us long enough to retire with pension and cottage, if you wish.”
“He’s an old fart, set in his ways,” Avery protested. “He should have been put out to pasture long ago. As you saw yourself, the profits from the orchards have been in decline for years.”
