Page 48 of Marrying a Reluctant Lady
He glanced at it, finding a Shakespearian sonnet. He chuckled and cleared his throat, heart soaring. Her bright, sparkling personality was back, the frightened shadow gone as soon as her parents departed. He felt himself grin in happiness.
“Very well,” he agreed.
He began to read it, and found that, even if he felt a little silly, it felt good.
He glanced over at her and saw her smiling at him, and his heart soared. These evenings with her, reading poetry, were what would keep him sane, no matter what Barrow and the cottagers were doing, he was quite sure of it.
Chapter 17
The easy motion of the cart as it rattled and jolted over the stony road was certainly a distraction, that much recommended it at least. Owen watched the countryside flash by and struggled to bring his temper in check. Barrow was sitting just behind where Owen sat up on the driving-seat beside Mr. Blakewood, who they had borrowed from the neighboring estate to drive the cart. It would have been much easier to take a horse, but then Owen wouldn’t have been able to bring Barrow with him, and he needed to.
The fellow’s ideas are shocking, Owen thought, trying to relax, though Barrow’s presence in the cart just behind him was a constant reminder of their conversation just that morning.
“The tenants are withholding rent,” Barrow had declared, coming into the study. Owen had frowned at once, confused by the statement.
“The tenants’ rent has been paid, Mr. Barrow,” he told him, keeping an even tone. “You yourself showed me the account just last week.”
“Yes, my lord,” Barrow replied swiftly. “But that was the rent from last year. We have to raise it this year if we want to meet the demands of your creditors and maintain the estate.”
“You raised it?” Owen demanded. He felt his face redden with anger. Barrow swallowed, as if nervous, but continued.
“Yes, my lord. It is the only way to meet the growing needs of the estate. What with a new member of the household as well, I would have thought...”
“You would have?” Owen interrupted, struggling to keep his voice level. “Barrow, may I remind you that I am the earl, and you are a member of my staff? You come to me with decisionsbefore you implement them. Are you clear on that matter?”
Barrow turned white and Owen saw him suppressing rage of his own, but he nodded. “Yes, my lord.” His voice was a whisper.
“Good. Now, we will need to set out at once. I need to make it clear to the tenants that no more rent is owed. You issued a demand to them?”
“I issued it.”
Owen glared at him, the flood of swearing he would have liked to release caught back just in time. He felt his heart race, his blood thrumming in his veins. How dare he? He had entirely forgotten his place.
“Well, then,” Owen replied at once. “We will need to correct that. Today. And you can come with me.”
He saw Barrow turn pale again, but this time he thought he looked fearful rather than enraged.
That’s no bad thing. He ought to feel afraid instead of simply frightening everyone.
He had turned around and walked downstairs, a plan already in his mind. A brief ride to Nutwoods estate had produced a cart for them to use, and so he was on his way, with Barrow, to address the tenant farmers.
“Here, please,” he called to Mr. Blakewood, the driver. “You can stop here.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Owen jumped down, his knees hurting as his feet thumped into hard, dry dirt, and he didn’t even turn around to see if Barrow had clambered out of the cart. He walked briskly onward.
“Mr. Brewster?” He greeted the first farmer who he saw. “Please, if you could, inform the other tenants I would like to see them directly. We can meet here, on the commonage.”
“Yes, my lord,” Mr. Brewster had said at once. The fear in his eyes suggested to Owen that he thought he was coming to extortmoney. He felt his heart twist.
How could Barrow come here and wring money out of these people? They had families to feed, and it had been a wet year. How could he demand that they produce money they didn’t have? His rage flared within him.
As he stood there, he recalled Ophelia’s comments about the rich exploiting the poor in London. She was right.
“My lord?” It was the farmer he’d sent off to summon the others. Owen blinked in surprise—he must have been standing and waiting for a good ten minutes and already he could see people appearing from their houses, making their way towards the common.
“Yes?” Owen asked.
