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“Toast?” Eleanor offered, gesturing at the plate in the middle of the table. She was perfectly composed, though Danni suspected that the t-shirt she was wearing cost more than her monthly feed bill, despite being a plain white t-shirt. “I’ve been up for an hour. I like to be productive in the mornings.”

“Right,” Danni said, grabbing a piece of toast and cramming half of it into her mouth as she went back to the kettle to prepare her normal coffee sludge.

“It’s Sunday,” Eleanor said, tapping a pen against her list.

“Well spotted,” Danni said, swallowing her toast.

Eleanor tapped the pen a little harder. “Sorry, I should have been more specific. I meant that since it’s Sunday, the workers won’t be at the house. Perhaps you could use a little help around the farm today?”

Danni dropped the other half of her toast, bent to pick it up, and then hit her head on the kitchen counter. “What?” she said, rubbing her head.

“Help. You. Need.”

“You want to help with farm work?” Danni said, not entirely sure she was understanding what was going on.

Eleanor lifted her chin. “Yes.”

Danni swallowed and wiped her hands on her jeans. “Um, you do realize that farm work involves things like dirt, lifting, actual effort? There’s a solid chance that there’ll be manure involved at some point too.”

“I started riding when I was three,” Eleanor said, as though this explained everything. “I am fully acquainted with mucking out a stable, thank you very much.”

Nearly choking on her much-needed coffee, Danni said, “You?”

“Yes, me,” said Eleanor, giving her a sharp look. “I’m perfectly capable of physical labor, thank you. I’m a fit and healthy woman.”

Danni felt her eyes dart down to Eleanor’s body instinctively, and she dragged them back up again. “Alright, Princess,” she said. “Let’s see what you’ve got, then.”

DANNI LED ELEANOR out to the stables, fully expecting her to take one look at the manure and bolt. To her surprise, Eleanor smiled slightly and walked over to where Sam, the old work horse, was munching on his morning oats.

“Who’s this then?” she asked.

“Sam,” said Danni. “He came with the farm. He’s been here donkey’s years. Doesn’t do much anymore, but my dad always said a farm without a horse wasn’t a farm at all.”

“Too right,” Eleanor said, admiringly, stroking down Sam’sneck. “He reminds me of my childhood horse.”

“Does he?” Danni asked, rolling her eyes. “And what was he called then?”

“He was a she and she was called Millicent Mary.”

Danni bit back a reply to this. She’d known from the beginning that Eleanor must have had a horse with a stupid name. It was comforting to be proven correct. “Pitch fork’s over there,” she said instead, nodding to where it was standing propped up against the stable wall.

And Eleanor stretched her shoulders and got to work.

For the first five minutes, Danni watched in stunned silence as Eleanor competently shoveled dirty hay into a nearby wheelbarrow.

Until Eleanor put down the fork, put her hands on her hips, and glared at her. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“You’ve got hay in your hair,” Danni pointed out.

Eleanor reached up and pulled out a piece.

“There’s more,” said Danni helpfully.

Eleanor sighed. “Still not as bad as the time I got a bird stuck in my hat at Ascot.”

Not sure she’d heard correctly, Danni said, “You got a bird stuck in your hat?”

“Well, it was more of a fascinator, really,” Eleanor explained, picking another piece of straw out of her hair. “It had feathers. A pigeon got confused.”