Page 10 of A Duke Too Far (The Way to a Lord's Heart 4)

The horse danced in a little circle, then propped on his back legs.

“Settle, imp,” Rothhaven growled.

The horse gave one halfhearted buck, then stood like a lamb.

“Please,” Althea said, gazing up at the duke. “The cut direct is helpful, but there’s so much more…”

He touched his hat brim. “Never,everbeg. Good day, my lady.” And then he was off down the drive, galloping as if the devil were at his heels.

Chapter Three

“The days grow longer,” Nathaniel said. “I enjoy these evenings at the vicarage tremendously but must turn my attentions to the estate for the nonce. Spring has arrived at last.”

Dr. Pietr Sorenson set aside the chessboard, the scene of a pleasant if uninspired match all around.

“And when spring arrives,” he said, “you are off to tend your herds and acres, consigning me to the dubious comforts of Leviticus. I would rather not end the winter’s play on a note of defeat. Can’t you spare me one more week?”

Sorenson was a widower, and he’d once remarked that evenings were the time when sorrow hung most heavily.

“This is my second one-more-week, Pietr. I cannot argue with the sun.” To emphasize the point, Nathaniel began putting his pieces away.

“Defeat it is, then. I did not see your rook, you naughty fellow. I absolutely did not see him prowling about there at the periphery. You grow more subtle in your stratagems while I bumble about like a hog rooting through the middens.”

Sorenson had a subtlety all his own, as any good vicar did. “You saw her ladyship’s prodigal pigs returning to the fold?” Hannibal crossing the Alps with his pachyderms would have been less of a spectacle.

“I was out for a ramble. Hard to miss so much splendid livestock on the move.”

In the three days Lady Althea’s swine had tarried in Nathaniel’s orchard, he’d grown accustomed to seeing them there, accustomed to their happy grunting and sighing. Pigs were in truth tidy creatures, and her ladyship’s herd was well behaved. They didn’t tear up roots or burrow under the orchard walls, and Treegum swore the orchard would be healthier for having entertained callers.

Nathaniel tossed his queen into the box with her court. “Her ladyship apologized for her errant sows. Sent over a wheel of cheese the like of which I would pay handsomely to keep in my larders.”

“With the dill? Delicious stuff. She’s an interesting woman.”

Another lure. Nathaniel told himself to stand up, shake Vicar’s hand, and ride back to the Hall. The same instant he would have risen, Vicar uncorked the brandy bottle and poured them both another two fingers.

“This is an excellent vintage,” Nathaniel said. “Shall we drink to good harvests and brilliant sermons?”

“Why not, and to shorter evenings in which to brood and ponder away the hours. She offered to put a new roof on the vicarage, you know.”

So much for changing the subject. “Her ladyship?”

“Of course, her ladyship. The Wentworth family doesn’t have mere pots of filthy lucre, they have lakes and rivers of the stuff. She could put Rothhaven Hall to rights with her pin money.”

“The Hall is sound enough. If you need a new roof, you will apply to me, sir. I thought her ladyship went south for the Season?”

Rothhaven Hall was being allowed to deteriorate insofar as appearances were concerned. The old pile was built to last through the ages, but Nathaniel purposely neglected anything that would give the place an inviting air.

And Sorenson well knew why.

The vicar nosed his brandy. “Lady Althea and her sister, Lady Constance, have gone south in spring for the past several years. My curate is a cousin to her butler, though, and Strensall says Lady Althea intends to enjoy springtime in Yorkshire this year.”

Well, damn.Nathaniel had hoped his neighbor would remove to London, where a well-rehearsed cut direct would serve her in good stead. He sipped his brandy—delightful stuff—and told himself to bring up the benefits of running pigs through orchards.

“Polite society is brutal to her.” Nathaniel set down his drink, clearly having imbibed more than he’d realized.

“New money and lots of it can bring out the worst in those with older pedigrees. Her ladyship is better off rusticating with us up here in Yorkshire, where we treasure our eccentrics and treat them with the respect they are due.”

Sorenson winked and saluted with his glass. He was a man approaching mid-life but had the sort of vigor that would see him into an active old age. Like many in the area, he was blond, blue-eyed, and rangy, and his sense of humor was never far from the surface.

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