Page 17 of A Rogue to Resist
Instead, here she stood, her skirts damp from the morning dew, being lectured about the condition of stables she had never been permitted to enter, let alone repair.
“I was not allowed to interfere with estate matters beyond what my husband specifically delegated to me,” Katherine replied, keeping her voice level with effort. “The home farm and western fields were my domain. The rest, including these stables, were under Edmund’s direct control.”
Lord Greythorne raised a derisive eyebrow. “Yet you claim intimate knowledge of every aspect of the estate.”
“I know the accounts, the yields, the boundaries,” she clarified. “That doesn’t mean I was given authority to make improvements where my husband refused them.”
Rosabel laid a gentle hand on Katherine’s arm, a silent reminder to maintain her composure. The duchess had been a steadying presence throughout the morning, deflecting the worst of Lord Greythorne’s pointed comments with diplomatic skill.
“Perhaps,” Rosabel suggested mildly, “we might focus on the western fields? That is, after all, the purpose of today’s visit.”
Lord Greythorne inclined his head in acknowledgment, though his grey eyes remained fixed on Katherine. “By all means, Your Grace. Though I find it curious that the one area under Lady Katherine’s control appears to be thriving, while the rest of the estate falls to ruin.”
Katherine bit back a sharp retort. They had been at Greythorne Manor less than an hour, and already her carefully maintained composure was fraying. The carriage journey from London had been strained, with Lord Greythorne alternating between probing questions about estate management and long, contemplative silences that somehow proved even more unnerving.
“This way,” she said instead, turning toward the path that led to the disputed fields. “We can follow the stream down to where it meets the old boundary markers.”
He fell into step beside her, his long strides easily matching her brisk pace. Rosabel followed a few steps behind, engaged in conversation with Mr. Thompson, the estate steward, who had joined their party upon arrival.
“You seem eager to prove your claim,” Lord Greythorne observed.
“I’m eager to resolve this matter and return to London,” Katherine corrected. “Unlike you, I have no desire to linger at Greythorne Manor.”
A flicker of curiosity crossed his face. “You disliked living here so intensely?”
Katherine hesitated. How could she explain that every corner of this place held memories of Edmund’s cold disdain? That the grand house, for all its elegance, had been a beautifully appointed prison?
“I prefer Willow Park,” she said simply. “It suits my temperament better.”
“Your dower property,” he nodded. “I understand it’s quite modest compared to Greythorne.”
“Modest, yes. But well-maintained and productive.” She couldn’t resist the pointed comparison.
His mouth quirked in what might have been amusement. “A reflection of its mistress, perhaps?”
Katherine glanced at him sharply, unsure whether he was mocking her or paying her a compliment. His expression revealed nothing but polite interest.
Before she could respond, they crested a small rise, bringing the western fields into view. Even from this distance, the contrast was stark. The neatly tended fields, with their orderly rows of crops and well-maintained hedgerows, stood in marked contrast to the neglected pastures that comprised the rest of the visible estate.
“As you can see,” Katherine said, unable to keep a note of pride from her voice, “the western fields have been well-managed. Last year’s wheat harvest exceeded expectations, and this year’s planting is already showing promise.”
Lord Greythorne surveyed the scene with a critical eye.
“Impressive,” he conceded after a moment. “Though I maintain that these fields rightfully belong to the entailed estate.”
“The boundary markers—”
“Are placed according to an outdated understanding of the property lines,” he interrupted smoothly. “The deed clearly states—”
“That the stream marks the boundary,” Katherine finished for him. “Yes, I’m well aware of your interpretation. But as I explained in London, natural boundaries shift. The markers were placed to ensure permanence.”
They had reached the edge of the disputed land. The Millbrook stream gurgled merrily some quarter mile east of where the ancient stone markers stood, worn smooth by centuries of wind and rain.
“These markers have stood for over a century,” Katherine continued, touching one of the weathered stones. “Long before either of us was born.”
“Yet the original deed predates them,” Lord Greythorne countered, “and it specifically references the water course.”
He gestured toward the stream, now barely visible through a stand of young alders. “When that document was drawn, the Millbrook ran alongside these fields. Sometime in the intervening years, it changed course.”
