table. Perhaps she should take a cue from Fortis and immerse herself in work as well. Then she, too, would be less inclined to spend so much thought on his return. Perhaps it would indeed be possible to simply go on from here without confronting the past. Perhaps she should just accept Fortis as he was. She could not make him love her and it was hardly his fault that once she’d thought to love him. That had been her choice.
It was clear that was what Fortis meant to do. He’d been congenial at breakfast, stating his intention of meeting the tenants. He’d asked questions about the estate while they ate, showing a considerable interest in how she’d run things. That interest had been both welcome and unnerving. On the one hand, she was grateful to be able to lay down the burden. Estate management had not come naturally to her, but she’d learned. She’d had no choice. There’d been no one else. Between herself and her land steward, Mr Benning, they had managed admirably. On the other hand, as relieved as she was to surrender the burden, there was a sense of loss, too. She had done admirably. She’d come to take pride in how she’d made ends meet and kept the estate going against considerable odds and debt. She would miss that challenge. Her role now would be reduced back to playing Lady Bountiful and delivering baskets. After seven years of free rein, it was something of a demotion.
A long arm darted around her and grabbed an apple in a lightning-quick move. ‘I’m famished!’ Fortis laughed when she whirled around, startled. He took a big, crunchy bite of the fruit and finished off the apple in four bites. He reached for another, looking entirely boyish. He might have been any one of them instead of a duke’s son. She liked the notion of that—one of them, a part of Blandford in a way he’d never been a part of it before. Before, Blandford had been a nuisance, merely a piece of land he held for his father, not a home as she saw it. She’d grown up here. It was all she knew. Yes, perhaps her earlier thought was right—with Blandford between them, they could build something together out of their marriage.
‘There’s meat and bread, too,’ she offered, smiling back. It was hard not to. His smile was intoxicating, his good humour contagious and, as long as she was honest with herself about the limits of what this marriage could provide, it was safe to indulge. This man was easy to be with, perhaps even easy to work with. The men seemed to like him. She’d heard them joking up on the roof, bits of their conversation and laughter floating down to the ground. That was new, too, or was it that she’d not had time to discover it? Had all this good will and good humour been there and she hadn’t noticed? Perhaps she’d been too wrapped up in her own needs and disappointments to truly see him? ‘Let me make you something,’ Avaline offered.
‘I can make my own bread and meat.’ He grinned, stretching around her again. The action brought his body close to her, the smell of morning soap and afternoon sweat combining for a masculine appeal all its own. He assembled a stack of bread and meat and gave her a wink. ‘Come on, let’s find a place to sit before John has us back up there slaving away again.’
‘John?’ Avaline asked in surprise. A duke’s son was on first-name basis with a tenant farmer?
‘John Wicks.’ Fortis found them a piece of grass and sat down without ceremony. She joined him, tucking her skirts beneath her.
‘I know Mr Wicks. He’s a good man. He’s a leader among the tenants. He worked with me and Mr Benning to take care of those who needed it most while you were gone.’ Something nudged at her arm and she looked down to see Fortis holding out bread and sliced ham. ‘What’s this?’
‘Your lunch. You didn’t think I grabbed all of this for me or that I would eat it all in front of you?’ He laughed. ‘Take it.’
‘Thank you, that was very...thoughtful.’
He stretched out long legs that drew the eye. ‘John speaks highly of you. He says you’ve done a masterful job of keeping the estate going. He says Benning is a good man, too.’
‘You’ll want to look over the ledgers and decide where to go from here,’ Avaline offered generously, blushing from the praise. He would never know how much it cost her to make that offer, to begin turning the estate over to him, the running of her home handed over to a veritable stranger, never mind they’d grown up as neighbouring families. Fortis was seven years older than she was. It wasn’t as if they’d roamed the fields together. He’d already had a commission in the military by the time she was thirteen.
Fortis knit his brow. ‘I’m to make the decision? It seems I might be the worst possible person to do that at this point. I’m the one who knows the least what the estate needs. It seems that perhaps Mr Benning and yourself, myself, and perhaps John Wicks and others like him should make those decisions. I’d appreciate it, Avaline, if we handled the reins of the estate together.’
He paused and she almost choked on the ham. ‘You want my input?’ she stammered.
‘Yes,’ he answered simply. ‘Unless you don’t wish to offer it? Perhaps you want to lay it all down?’
‘No. Not at all,’ Avaline said firmly lest she accidentally throw this unexpected gift away. ‘I would be pleased if you would consult me. I will help in any way I can.’
‘Good.’ He gave her an infectious grin and swallowed the last of his lunch. ‘It looks as though John wants to get back at it.’ He rose and held out a hand to help her up. It was a natural enough gesture, a casual one. But Avaline hesitated, feeling as if taking his hand signalled something more, a sealing of their partnership, or at the very least, an acknowledgement of it. Was she ready for that? She supposed she didn’t have a choice. Ready or not, Fortis was here, offering his hand, and, in time, perhaps he might offer her something more. Avaline reached up and took it, aware of all the flaws and hope that came with the gesture.
That little flame of hope flickered doggedly throughout the week, tempting Avaline with possibilities of what might be with its persistence as she began to reconcile the old with the new. The days took on a pleasant pattern not unlike that first day. Fortis rose early. He breakfasted with her and discussed plans before he rode out—that was new. Never once had Fortis sought her opinion. New, too, was his interest in the estate he’d disparaged early in their marriage. He spent his days with the tenants, working feverishly against the weather to complete the necessary autumn preparations before winter arrived in force and he came home each night, exhausted, retiring to his chambers and falling asleep almost immediately after dinner, only to rise the next morning and start it all over again, as did she. That piece was old. The avoidance he’d once evinced in their marriage still remained. It was merely more politely done than it had been before. War could change a man in many ways, but war could not change a man entirely, it seemed.
Fortis was not the only one with patterns. She had her own regimen, too, her own attempts at establishing normalcy. After breakfast and seeing him off, she spent the mornings in the estate office, reading through correspondence, meeting with Mr Benning and going over accounts. In the late morning, knowing that Fortis wouldn’t be home for lunch, she often rode out for exercise, for visiting or, like today, for sewing at Bramble with her sisters-in-law and the Duchess. She loved needlework and she loved her sisters-in-law. Together, the calm concentration of needlework and the comradeship of other women had been her lifeline as a new bride, then an abandoned bride, then as a potentially widowed bride. Through all the rigours of her marriage, the Tresham wives had remained steadfast in their friendship, supporting her, without ever once criticising her or their husbands’ brother.
Avaline secured her sewing box to the saddle and accepted a leg up from the groom as she mounted her mare, a pretty chestnut with a sweet disposition who didn’t mind the bouncing of the sewing kit against the saddle. She settled her skirts and took the reins, revelling in the sight of her frosty breath in the crisp morning. Winter was coming; indeed, it might already be here. Icy frost coated the green fields this morning, making them shimmer like diamonds beneath the sun.
Fortis and the men would be glad to finish the roofs today. Soon, it would be