What did Phillip have?
A farmer’s stamina and determination, his calluses, his passion for nurturing the land and beasts, his ability to work hard toward a good harvest even when fate seemed destined to starve him and everybody he loved.
The early morning mists began to dissipate, and Phillip realized he had something else to fall back on, another farming trait. Hours spent walking behind a team of plow horses, more hours spent waiting for a mare to drop her foal, yet still more hours contemplating rainy days that could destroy a crop or save it…
A farmer had time to think, to consider, to mentally try on ideas and refine them until nearly every problem gained an eventual solution. Clear those acres, divert that stream, fallow that field, cross those two strains of sheep…
Phillip sat in the hay meadow as the sky lightened and the avian chorus greeted the day, and he thought.
About a cousin coming back from Canada, a man changed for the worse.
About Henry Wortham, discounting his own many gifts, to focus on Johnny Brompton’s arrogance and his elegant gentleman’s hands.
About Johnny Brompton, casually declaring himself off on a constitutional and suggesting Phillip accustom himself to coming in second.
Phillip pulled on his boots and rose, startling a flock of sparrows from the nearby trees. He had mere days to work with, days when Cousin Johnny might be lurking in broom closets or accosting Hecate behind hedges.
“Not bloody likely.” His sorrow and anger had sprouted into seedlings of determination, and they would bear fruit that could poison Cousin Johnny’s schemes.
Phillip cut across the dewy field, his thoughts interrupted by the sound of hoofbeats. The Earl of Nunn was out for his early morning hack, riding the acres he only half knew how to manage.
Phillip planted himself in the middle of the path.
Nunn drew his bay to a halt. “Lord Phillip, good morning. You have grass in your hair.”
“An occupational hazard of farming. You had the ha-has repaired because Hecate laid out the racecourse over three of them.”
“And because a crumbling ha-ha is an invitation for sheep to wander. I’m told my timing was unfortunate, given the progress of the haying.”
“Who told you that?”
“Henry Wortham, after yesterday’s race. I thanked him for his honesty, though I realized when I gave the order I was putting the safety of the jockeys and their mounts ahead of the harvest.”
The horse shook his head. A beast with fewer manners would have snatched at the reins.
“You did not want to put Hecate to the effort of designing a different racecourse.”
Nunn looked bored. “She has more than enough on her plate. I’ll bid you—”
Phillip put a hand on the reins, which was doubtless seventeen gentlemanly felonies at once. “She will marry that arsewipe if I can’t find a way to thwart him. She thinks she has no allies, that if she turns her back on Johnny’s threats, not a single Brompton will stand with her.”
Nunn cued the horse to move to the side, and Phillip turned loose of the reins.
“Hecate has, and has always had, my highest esteem,” Nunn said. “You know why I haven’t been vociferous in my support, and I suspect Hecate knows as well.”
“How could she know when you excel at disdaining all you survey?” Phillip asked. “How could she, when you’ve been in regular contact with her father, but never once asked if she’d like to be in contact with him as well? She sees the post coming and going here at Nunnsuch. Do you truly think she hasn’t noticed the correspondence you’ve sent to Bristol?”
Nunn’s pained expression suggested he’d contemplated that very possibility. He swung off his horse, loosened the girth, and ran the stirrups up their leathers.
“You are determined to interrupt the most pleasurable hour of my day,” he said. “I admit your rudeness is in good cause. Mrs. Roberts has been quite clear on my responsibilities toward Hecate. Edna herself has suggested I take a hand in matters where Johnny is concerned. She claims his intentions are less than respectful, though she’s doubtless alluding to his intentions toward the family fortune rather than toward Hecate herself.”
“Hecate is the family fortune,” Phillip said. “But the only family member to truly treasure her is apparently sitting on his fundament in Bristol and awaiting an engraved invitation to take a hand in matters. I need details, my lord. Time is of the essence, and if that blunt statement offends your polite sensibilities, I do not give one hearty goddamn in apology for my rudeness.”
Nunn looped the reins through the throatlatch of the bridle, ensuring that even if the horse grazed, he could not get a foot caught in them.
“Home,” he said to the horse, gesturing in the direction of the stable. “Go on, go home, and enjoy your oats.” He stepped back and brandished his crop playfully, and the horse obligingly trotted off. “I’m not a farmer, but I fancy myself a decent horseman. Air your questions, my lord, and I will do my best to answer them.”
“First, your assurances that you will make plain to Hecate that she has your support.”
“I will discreetly assure her of my loyalty.” Nunn went the opposite direction from his horse, who had disappeared around a bend in the path. “Next question.”
Phillip’s interrogation lasted until they reached the arched bridge, where they tarried under a rising sun.
“You could take my coach,” Nunn said when Phillip had learned the essentials necessary for the moment. “Not very stylish, but comfortable.”
“That will attract attention. I arrived on horseback, and I will leave on horseback. I want Johnny to see me departing.”
“Oh, very well. Reject the only aid I am in a position to offer.”
Nunn’s dignity and stubbornness put Phillip in mind of Hecate. “Not the only aid. The sooner you talk to Hecate, the better.”
“After breakfast, assuming you allow me to return to the manor in the next hour.”
Phillip watched the water moving beneath the bridge, mentally inventoried the revelations of the past hour, and pushed away from the bridge stone railing.
“No more questions. Keep an eye on Johnny, a close eye. He’s accosted Hecate twice and assaulted her at least once.”
Nunn whacked at his boot with his riding crop. “I will alert the staff and put in a word with Mrs. Roberts. She has no patience with knaves.”
“Then I’m off to have a chat with DeWitt about the loan of a fast horse. My thanks for your time, my lord.”
Nunn smiled, a surprisingly charming departure from his usual hauteur. “Now you turn up mannerly. Be off with you, and we will look for your return before Saturday evening’s entertainment.”
Phillip parted from the earl on the bridge and made straight for the summer cottage.
Hecate had slipped into the house through the conservatory, changed into a day dress, and repinned her hair. She relied on the good offices of the butler to assure her that Johnny was yet abed and likely to remain so for some time. Last evening had devolved into a sort of whist championship, and Cousin Johnny had partnered with Portia to sweep the field.
The brandy decanters had been vanquished thereafter, and two footmen had been needed to assist Master Johnny to his bed.