Page 63 of The Farmer Has a Wife

“Like what?”

“I’ve said that I don’t think the courts will rule against you. But I can’t guarantee that. Nor can I guarantee that the ensuing legal bills won’t bankrupt you,” said Elizabeth. “You make your decisions for your estate, Nor. But you have to remember thatshould the worst happen, your assets are now tied to Danni’s through marriage. Meaning that her farm could be at risk.”

The air seemed to leave the room.

Eleanor could handle a fight over her own house. But Danni’s farm?

Danni had spent years struggling to get her own land, had sacrificed everything, including a relationship with her mother, to get what she knew she wanted. The farm was everything to her.

And if there was even the smallest chance that Danni’s home could be taken from her, that it could be Eleanor’s fault…

No.

No, she was not going to let that happen. Not when they had a sham marriage, a mere business arrangement.

She crossed her legs and leaned forward. Her voice was quiet and controlled when she spoke. “How do I protect her?”

Elizabeth watched her carefully. “The only way to make sure Danni isn’t dragged into this legally is to separate your assets.”

Eleanor swallowed hard. She was no fool. There was only one way to do that. She lifted her chin. “I need you to prepare papers of legal separation.”

“Eleanor,” Elizabeth said, expression softening.

“No. You are my solicitor and I am instructing you to prepare separation papers as a precursor to divorce,” Eleanor said. She looked firmly at Elizabeth. “I have no choice here.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Then Elizabeth nodded. “I’ll have them drafted and communicated.”

Eleanor nodded. It should be fine, it shouldn’t matter, this wasn’t a real marriage, she kept telling herself. She pressed her lips together. This was the right thing to do. Protecting Danni was the right thing to do.

She should never have let herself get emotionally involved in the first place.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Danni shoved the back door open with her shoulder, dropping the stack of empty sacks by the door, and then trying to take her boots off without touching them with her hands. It was a delicate job, and she had to lean back against the door to accomplish it.

She sniffed, looking for a clue as to what might be for dinner. The scent of roasted vegetables and something buttery lingered in the air, but that was the remnants of last night’s dinner. It had been a good dinner. A good night. They’d talked, they’d laughed, and then they’d fallen into bed and Danni thought that that was what marriage was supposed to be about.

They might have started out faking it, but they were rapidly becoming pros, at least in Danni’s opinion.

But there was no new smell in the air, no beef roasting, no saucepan boiling, nothing. Which was fine, obviously. It wasn’t like she expected Eleanor to cook every night or anything. It was just… a little off. She cocked her head, seeing the shadow of something unfamiliar in the front hall. Peering closer, she saw suitcases. Eleanor’s suitcases.

Her heart kicked up an uneasy beat.

“Eleanor?”

There was no answer.

Danni stepped forward, scanning the kitchen, the couch. The stove was unlit. The book that Eleanor had been reading was missing from the arm of the couch. There were no planners sitting on the kitchen table. A growing sense of wrongness slithered up Danni’s spine.

Then there were footsteps on the stairs, and Eleanor appeared, perfectly put together as always. She was in soft gray trousers, a starched white shirt, not a hair out of place. Except something else was out of place, just Danni couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

There was no smile, no sarcastic remark.

Instead, Eleanor gripped her handbag closer to her side and stared down at the ground as though it might have some answers to some very serious questions.

Danni blew out a breath. “Um, what’s with the bags?”

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