AT LADY TRENTINGHAM’S invitation, Ford walked with her in companionable silence along a path that took a meandering route to the river. All afternoon, her speculative looks had been convincing him Violet had told her something.
He just wondered exactly what.
“She told you, didn’t she?” he finally asked, unable to bear the suspense.
In the dappled light that came through the trees, she stopped on the path and nodded. “Yes, she told me you proposed. We’re a close family. Some think us a bit odd.”
Ah. Well, Violet’s rejection had been devastating—not to mention humiliating—but if she’d had to share the experience, he supposed Lady Trentingham was one of the kinder souls Violet could have confided in.
He shuddered to think how Rose might have broached the subject.
“Your family seems close, too,” Lady Trentingham added.
“We are,” he said, knowing it was true, no matter how irritating they could be sometimes. “We lost our parents long ago at Worcester, so we’ve always leaned on one another.” By tacit agreement, they resumed walking, the gravel crunching beneath their shoes. “I’m hoping to have a close family of my own soon,” he said carefully.
Still strolling, she met his gaze. “Violet fears you’re only pursuing her in order to get your hands on her inheritance.”
Lady Trentingham was direct—in that way, she reminded him of his twin sister. But the news hurt, even though he’d suspected as much from the start.
“How can she think that?” he wondered aloud. “I’ve told her I love her.” Despite everything, hearing those words from his mouth prompted an embarrassed half-smile. “I never thought I’d admit as much to her mother.”
“And I’d suggest you not tell her you did. If Violet knew I was doing anything to encourage this marriage, she’d run the other way. I’ve something of a reputation as a matchmaker, and my daughters are all dead set against becoming one of my statistics.”
“I won’t breathe a word.” Encourage this marriage still rang in his ears, making his spirits rise with premature glee. He’d hoped Violet’s parents weren’t an obstacle, but now he knew for sure. That left only the lady herself. “What can I do to persuade her?”
“It won’t be easy,” Lady Trentingham warned. “My daughter decided she was unmarriageable long before she met you. Old convictions are difficult to overcome.” She discreetly cleared her throat. “And I’m afraid the condition of your estate is doing little to convince her you’re not in need of her funds.”
He’d known that, too. “What if I told you I am short of funds, but that’s not the reason I want to marry her?”
They reached the river and turned, her brown eyes reminding him of Violet’s as she met his gaze for a long, silent moment. “I’ll give you points for honesty,” she said at last with a nod of approval. “But I fear it will make your task even harder. Lakefield’s sad state isn’t only due to neglect, then?”
“Mostly. I am not in dire straits.” Heading back toward the house, he sighed. “The place was unoccupied long before it was deeded to me, but…well…”
He supposed since she was giving him points for honesty, he might as well follow through. If his situation would make him unacceptable as a son-in-law, he’d as soon learn that now rather than later.
Though that didn’t mean he was obliged to make things sound worse than they were.
He raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s true I’ve never made Lakefield a priority. I understand the estate was prime horse-breeding property before the Civil War, but nothing remains of that now save a few decrepit stables. And I imagine you’re aware there have been several disastrous agricultural years since I took ownership in ’61. However,” he rushed to add, “I assure you I’ve always made certain no one dependent on the property has suffered as a result.” Indeed, in order to see that none of the tenant farmers went hungry a few years ago, he’d been forced to mortgage the estate. Those payments were proving to be his downfall now.
“I’m sure you have,” Lady Trentingham said soothingly. A touch of understanding infused her voice, making his pulse leap with hope. Could it be possible he still had her support? “But I understand there were few tenants left by the time you took over.”
“True enough. If the estate is to produce a decent income, I must attract more people to move here.” And repair the housing meant to shelter them. Dozens of crumbling cottages—more costs he was too strapped to bear. But perhaps Rand was finished with the translation by now, and regardless, somehow he would work it out.
He just hadn’t cared enough before this. Loving Violet made all the difference.
He smiled at her mother, thinking having parents of this sort mightn’t be such a bad thing. “I just need to put my mind to it.”
“And you’ve got a brilliant mind there.” She smiled back. “Perhaps Violet’s dowry will ease your way. You do know it’s three thousand pounds?”
“No, I didn’t. It’s very generous.” More than he’d expected.
But it wasn’t enough. No amount of money would be enough. Oh, he supposed there was some number of thousands that would dig the estate out of debt—to his disgrace, he had no idea how much—but he was coming to realize that without his ongoing efforts to ensure that Lakefield produced sufficient income to support all the people who depended on it, it would soon sink back into the morass.
He was ready to take on that responsibility.
Lady Trentingham was waiting for more of a reaction. “I’d have to win Violet first, and even then her marriage portion wouldn’t be enough,” he admitted, then realized she could take that the wrong way. “I mean, my own hard work—”
“I understand.” She touched him on the arm. “My husband is an expert estate manager. I’m sure he’d be happy to counsel you.”
Ford wasn’t too proud to accept help. “I’d be pleased to accept any guidance he’s willing to offer.”
“You may have to shout a bit in the process.” Her smile this time was the same warm smile she’d given him the first day in his garden. “I have faith in you, Ford. And despite what she may think, I know my daughter well, so I’ll tell you this: She wouldn’t mind that you need her inheritance, as long as she were convinced you weren’t marrying her for it.”
He wasn’t sure he believed that, and in any case, he didn’t want to take Violet’s money. Her dowry was one thing, her inheritance quite another. Having aspirations of his own, he’d think twice before jeopardizing her dream of publishing.
No, he’d think ten times. Twenty. Surely there was another way to solve his difficulties.
Lady Trentingham peered through the trees. “I think your family may be ready to leave.”
Indeed, they were all gathered by the barge, shifting from foot to foot. A quick glance at the sun told him if they didn’t get back to Lakefield and their carriages soon, they wouldn’t make it to their homes by nightfall.
But ahead of him, at the end of the path, stood Violet. Looking upset.
Ignoring his siblings’ shouts, he hurried to meet her.