Page 70 of The Pleasures of Passion
“That’s nonsense,” she said with a sniff, annoyed that he knew her so well. “We should go on. Silas is napping now, but once he gets up—”
“Whatever you wish,” he said, laughter lurking in his face as he picked up the reins. “So tell me, what would you like to see next, my Lady Rebel?”
She ignored his teasing. “Show me everything. Or as much as you can before Silas wakes up and begins trying Aunt Agatha’s patience.”
For the next hour, he showed off his estate with obvious pride. He took her by a well-stocked conservatory, a stable full of prime horseflesh, a working tannery, and several pretty little tenant cottages.
How she wished Camden Hall could be so extensive and well run. No one who’d visited Margrave Manor would believe Fulkham’s manufactured gossip about Niall’s needing money, so it was a good thing Niall didn’t entertain.
Yet, anyway. That would surely change once she married him.
She caught herself.Ifshe married him. Lord, she had to watch that. If she let something like that slip in front of him, he would be relentless in his pursuit, and she needed time and space to think.
They moved on to the fields. He told her about the equipment he’d bought to increase his barley production, then took her to where the corn was being harvested.
He fairly strutted around the fields. Clearly, he was rather proud of his crops.
And she couldn’t blame him. “What are your yields?” she asked.
When he rattled them off, she gazed at him in awe. “From what I understand, that is very impressive.”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” he said dryly. “I’m only a rogue whenyou’rearound. The rest of the time, I try to be a responsible landowner.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Who carries a naughty watch.”
He smirked at her. “As I said, a man needs a bit of fun.” With a quick glance at the nearby workers, he smoothed his hand down her backside.
“Don’t do thathere,” she whispered.
“Hereis the perfect place for it. All this fertility is in the air, giving rise to thoughts of plowing and planting and—”
“Stop that,” she said, struggling not to laugh. He was such a . . .man. Moving away, she strolled along the edge of the fields. “And you still haven’t explained how you got such grand yields. You’ve only been back in England a month. How did you manage it?”
“The planting was overseen by Warren, who managed Margrave Manor in my absence. But while he did his best, he had his own properties to run. So in trying to bring the estate up to snuff, I’ve instituted some new harvesting methods, which have helped to improve our yields a bit.” He led her away from the fields. “I’ve got plans to do much more. Margrave Manor has great potential. As, I imagine, does Camden Hall.”
“I certainly hope you’re right.”
They walked to the top of a hill, and she halted as the vista spread out before her took her breath away. “Are those apple orchards?”
“And pear.” He smiled. “We make our own cider and jam.”
“This would be a perfect spot for drawing, with the fields behind and the orchards below. And look, we can even see the stream that borders your property! Not to mention the folly over at Stoke Towers. So many subjects to sketch!”
His eyes gleamed at her. “You can come here whenever you like. We can have picnics. Silas can slide down the hill, as boys like to do—”
“Oh, he’s much too young for that.”
“Now, perhaps, but in a few years . . .”
The words hung in the air between them, a promise of their future together. Oh, Lord, she was already thinking of them as married. She shouldn’t encourage him. And yet . . .
“Could we see the orchard?” she asked, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.
With a grin, he offered her his arm for descending the path that wound down the hill. She tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow, trying not to show how the intimacy of that small act was affecting her.
As they strolled down the path, he asked, “So, what do you grow at Camden Hall?”
“Flax. That’s what Reynold preferred.”
