Page 31 of The Farmer Has a Wife

“Hey, don’t break anything expensive in there, Your Ladyship,” Danni called out from the bathroom.

And Eleanor rolled her eyes and flopped onto the bed, abandoning all thought of giving it up in favor of the couch. Danni had asked her to stay, knowing that there wasn’t a guest bed, so Danni should pay the consequences. Besides, she hadn’t complained about sleeping on the couch.

There was a second there when the thought of Danni crawling into her own bed, her own bed that was occupied by Eleanor, snuck into Eleanor’s mind.

She growled to herself and got up to get ready for bed.

None of this was real, she reminded herself. As if it ever could be.

Chapter Fourteen

The morning of the village fête had dawned bright and sunny, which had immediately put Danni into a bad mood. She’d been hoping for rain. Not just because the land needed it, which it did, but because it would have given her a good excuse to forgo the festivities. Fêtes were for vicars and ladies that made their own jam. Not for busy farmers.

As it was, she was putting the Land Rover into park and muttering at herself about her own lack of judgment and making promises without thinking through the consequences.

It was just as chaotic as she’d feared. Children were running wild between rows of stalls, dogs wove between people’s legs, and there was already a minor altercation brewing near the tombola stand. Somebody had probably rigged it again.

Danni exhaled heavily. “Why did I agree to this?” she moaned.

“Because you love Tommy and will do anything for him,” Indi said, grinning. She was holding a toffee apple and had practically bounced over to the truck when she saw Danni. “And also because I lent you that dress for that country club thing, so you owe me.”

“Right, because standing in a field eating questionable sausage rolls is exactly the same as borrowing a dress.”

“That’s the spirit.” Indi stopped at a stall and then handed Danni a beer. “Now drink this and try not to be a grump. The fête is fun.”

“You and I have very different ideas of fun,” Danni said. “And as much as I do love Tommy, I think we both have to admit that his band could profit from music lessons.”

“Grump, grump, grump,” Indi said. “Settle down and enjoy yourself. You can’t work all the time, and it’s a beautiful day. Ooo, look at that rhubarb.”

With Indi’s attention distracted, Danni took a sip of her beer. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. A sunny afternoon, a beer in hand, a few hours when she wasn’t thinking about crops and water and sheep. She had just decided that Indi was right, and she should try harder to enjoy herself, when she spotted Eleanor.

She was standing by a jam stall, listening intently to a woman who looked like she’d spent the last fifty years perfecting her preserves. She was also wearing a light summer dress that clung to her curves and made Danni instinctively think that Eleanor should wear more dresses.

Danni sniffed and made her way over. “Bet you’ve never even had a shop-bought jam, have you?” she said, peering over Eleanor’s shoulder.

Eleanor turned, raising an elegant eyebrow. “Of course I have.”

Danni folded her arms. “Really?”

Eleanor hesitated. “Once. It was awful.”

“Knew it,” Danni said, letting out a laugh.

“Would you like to try some of my raspberry and elderflower, dear?” the jam lady asked, offering them both a spoon.

Eleanor took a tiny bite and made a delighted noise. “Oh, that’s exquisite.”

Danni took her own taste and wrinkled her nose. “Eugh, tastes like cat pee and flowers.”

“Elderflower, raspberry and elderflower,” Eleanor corrected.

“Yeah, but why ruin the raspberry?” Danni muttered as Eleanor handed over a five-pound note to buy a jar. “And I hope you don’t think you’re bringing that home.”

“The elderflower adds nuance,” Eleanor said sharply. “Something you’d appreciate if your palate weren’t exclusively used to steak and ale pie at the Fox and Hounds. And this jamwill be on the table for breakfast tomorrow.”

Danni growled something, but Indi interrupted her. “There you are. I thought you’d done a bunk already,” she said.

Danni already had her mouth open to retort, but just then, something else had caught her attention. A tall, well-dressed woman had sidled up to Eleanor and was smiling at her. Smiling at her in a way that Danni didn’t like. A way that said that flirting over artisanal preserves was just how things were done in the Home Counties.

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