The Heart of a Duke(39)
“So you did.” She stepped back, putting distance between herself and his potent smile. “But as I said, I am quite capable of taking care of myself. Besides, Edmund is home now. And . . .” She paused as Daniel’s smile vanished. “You knew that, didn’t you?”
He gave a curt nod. “I did.”
She waited for him to continue, but he remained annoyingly reticent, forcing her to fill the void. “I will miss the wild, rustic beauty of the place.” It reminded her of its owner. She blinked, the words almost escaping her.
“It is for a worthy sacrifice, for while I cannot sanction the apple mill or influence Edmund’s management, I can rebuild here. Doing so adds more work and alleviates some of the problem of the surplus laborers.”
“And hopefully separates the farmers from those whose talents are better served wielding hammer and ax,” she added.
“Hopefully,” Daniel agreed. “Pity I cannot rehire grand-mère’s cook. Her nougat almond cake and Bakewell Tarts could make royalty beg. I could always follow the mouthwatering smells home. It trumped Hamelin’s musical pipe. Those kids were never seen again. I, on the other hand, returned to feast on dessert biscuits and trifle.”
She smiled. “I do hope her magic seeped into the rest of the meal as well.”
“Haven’t a clue.”
She shook her head at the teasing light in his eyes. “You called this home. Was this more home to you than Bedford Hall?”
“Yes. Bedford Hall was Edmund’s. Lakeview Manor was mine.” Possessive pride laced his words.
“Is that why you left? Because you lost your home?”
He did not answer her at first, but when he did, his response was cryptic and he avoided her gaze. “I left because of the fire. After all, there wasn’t anything left for me here.”
It was as if he had closed a door, leaving her stranded on the opposite side. She believed he spoke the truth, just not the whole of it. Despite the sting of that, she kept her tone light. “Maybe next time when you leave, you will not stay away as long, because now you will have something to return home to.”
Immediately his expression transformed, his features softening, his gaze warm as it met hers. “Yes. It is always good to have something or someone to lure one home.”
She paused, quite sure he no longer referred to the house. Disconcerted, she waved a hand toward the lake. “Was this your idea as well? Opening the lake up to fishing?”
He nodded. “I don’t have apple trees, but I have a lake brimming with trout, perch, and whatever other fish swim in it. Due to last year’s poor harvest, they need the provisions. I had Mabry spread the word that the men can eat, sell, mount or fatten the cat with whatever they catch. I also provided them with supplies to do so. What do you think?”
“I think you have been busy.”
“I have. Shall we join them?”
“Fishing?”
He looked amused. “Well, it is too chilly to swim and you are not dressed appropriately. So yes, fishing.”
“Please tell me we are not at the mercy of your expertise for dinner, because I remember that you never caught a thing. Have you refined your technique in America?”
Daniel took umbrage at that. “I filled your bucket with all those minnows or shiners or whatever those things were. That is not nothing.”
“You netted those.” She nearly smiled. “And we could not eat them.”
“I beg to disagree. Your cat dined on them with nary a word of complaint. Besides, you always released the larger fish. Hated the idea of them being killed, so if we had been dependent on your talents for dinner, we would have fared no better.” He winked, turned, and strolled down to the lake.
He had her there. They made a pair. She fell into step beside him.
The manor was aptly named for the view of the lake, a two-hundred-acre expanse of shimmering glass mirroring the brilliant blue sky. Children scampered past, a few men tipped their hats in greeting, while the women gave shy smiles.
Two fishing rods were propped against a birch tree, a trowel on the ground beside them. Daniel knelt, used the trowel to scrape an area free of debris, and dug into the cleared patch of soil. His breeches tightened over his strong thighs, and his jacket stretched across his shoulders. A gust of wind blew a lock of hair over his forehead, and Julia swallowed. He rivaled the beauty of the vista before her. Rattled at the thought, she faced the lake. “Is this the change of plans you referred to in your note? Fishing?”
“No, this is a pleasurable side benefit.” After a few more minutes of digging, he stood. “Follow me.” He entered a path that cut through a thicket of bushes bordering the banks of the lake.