As she talked, Lord Swartingham watched her face intently.
“At my cottage now, I have the hollyhocks, of course, and many of the other flowers my mother grew. I wish I had more room to add some roses,” she mused. “But roses are dear and take up quite a bit of space. I’m afraid I can’t justify the expense when the vegetable garden comes first.”
“Perhaps you could advise me on the Abbey’s gardens later this spring,” the earl said. He turned the bay’s head and started down a smaller dirt track.
Anna concentrated on the business of turning the mare. When she looked up, she saw the flooded field. Mr. Hopple was already there, talking to a farmer in a woolen smock and straw hat. The man was having a hard time looking Mr. Hopple in the face. His eyes kept dragging lower to the amazing pink waistcoat Mr. Hopple wore. Something black was embroidered along the edges. As Anna drew nearer, she saw that the embroidery seemed to represent little black pigs.
“Good morning, Hopple, Mr. Grundle.” The earl nodded to his steward and the farmer. His eyes flicked to the waistcoat. “That’s a very interesting garment, Hopple. I don’t know that I’ve seen the like before.” The earl’s tone was grave.
Mr. Hopple beamed and smoothed a hand down his waistcoat. “Why, thank you, my lord. I had it made at a small shop in London on my last trip.”
The earl swung a long leg down from his horse. He gave the reins to Mr. Hopple and walked to Anna’s horse. Gently grasping Anna’s waist, he lifted her down. For the briefest moment, the tips of her breasts brushed the front of his coat and she felt his large fingers tighten. Then she was free, and he was turning to the steward and the farmer.
They spent the morning tramping through the field, examining the water problem. At one point, the earl stood knee-deep in muddy water and investigated a suspected source of the flood. Anna took notes in a small book he provided for her. She was glad she had chosen an old skirt to wear since it soon became thoroughly filthy about the hem.
“How do you intend to drain the field?” Anna asked as they rode back to the Abbey.
“We’ll have to dig a trench across the north side.” Lord Swartingham squinted thoughtfully. “That may be a problem because the land there runs into Clearwater’s property, and for courtesy’s sake, I’ll have to send Hopple to ask permission. The farmer has already lost his pea crop, and if the field isn’t made tillable soon, he’ll miss his wheat—” He stopped and shot a wry look at her. “I’m sorry. You can’t be interested in these matters.”
“Indeed, I am, my lord.” Anna straightened in her saddle and then hurriedly grabbed Daisy’s mane when the horse sidestepped. “I’ve been most absorbed in your writings about land management. If I understand your theories correctly, the farmer should follow a crop of wheat with one of beans or peas and then with one of mangel-wurzels and so on. If that is the case, shouldn’t this farmer plant mangel-wurzels instead of wheat?”
“In most instances, you would be right, but in this case…”
Anna listened to the earl’s deep voice discussing vegetables and grains. Had agriculture always been this fascinating and she’d never realized it? Somehow she didn’t think so.
AN HOUR LATER, Edward found himself bemusedly holding forth on various ways of draining a field during luncheon with Mrs. Wren. Of course the topic was an interesting one, but he’d never had occasion to talk to a woman about such masculine matters before. In fact, he had hardly any occasion to talk to women, at least since the death of his mother and sister. He’d flirted when young, naturally, and knew how to make light social chatter. But to exchange ideas with a woman as one did with a man was a new experience. And he liked talking with little Mrs. Wren. She listened to him with her head tilted to one side, the sun streaming in through the dining room window gently highlighting the curve of her cheek. Such utter attention was seductive.
Sometimes she smiled crookedly at what he was saying. He was fascinated by that lopsided smile. One edge of her rose-colored lips always tilted upward more than the other side. He became aware that he was staring at her mouth, hoping to see that smile again, fantasizing about what it would taste like. Edward turned his head aside and closed his eyes. His arousal was pressing against the front placket of his breeches, making them uncomfortably tight. He’d found he had this problem almost constantly of late when in the company of his new secretary.
Christ. He was a man above thirty, not a boy to moon over a woman’s smile. The situation might be laughable if his cock didn’t ache so much.
Edward abruptly realized that Mrs. Wren was asking him a question. “What?”
“I asked if you were all right, my lord,” she said. She looked worried.
“Fine. I’m fine.” He took a deep breath and wished irritably that she would call him by his given name. He longed to hear her say Edward. But no. It would be highly inappropriate for her to call him by his Christian name.
He gathered his scattered thoughts. “We should return to work.” He stood and strode from the room, feeling as if he were fleeing fire-breathing monsters rather than one plain little widow.
WHEN THE CLOCK struck five, Anna tidied the small pile of transcripts she’d finished that afternoon and glanced at the earl. He was sitting scowling at the paper in front of him. She cleared her throat.
He looked up. “Is it time already?”
She nodded.
He rose and waited as she gathered her things. The dog followed them out the door, but then he bounded down the stairs to the drive. The animal sniffed intently at something on the ground and then rolled, happily rubbing his head and neck in whatever it was.
Lord Swartingham sighed. “I’ll have one of the stable boys wash him before he enters the Abbey again.”
“Mmm,” Anna murmured thoughtfully. “What do you think of ‘Adonis’?”
He gave her a look so full of incredulous horror that she was hard-pressed not to laugh. “No, I suppose not,” she murmured.
The dog got up from his refreshment and shook himself, flipping one of his ears inside out. He trotted back to them and tried to look solemn with his ear still inside out.
“Self-control, lad.” The earl righted the dog’s ear.
At this Anna did chuckle. He looked at her sideways, and she thought his wide mouth twitched. The carriage trundled up then, and she entered with his assistance. The dog knew by now that he was not allowed to ride and merely watched wistfully.