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C hilton marched toward the stable yard with Lord Edward, his mind still lingering on the conversation with Miss Martin in the library. The heir to the Marquess of Thornfield walked with the easy confidence of a man secure in his position, his riding boots gleaming in the morning sun.

"I must say, Sutcliffe," Edward remarked as they crossed the gravel path, "you seem to have developed quite an interest in our little bluestocking."

Chilton kept his expression carefully neutral. "Miss Martin has some interesting ideas about education."

"Does she indeed?" Edward's tone held barely disguised mockery. "And here I thought a baron would have more pressing matters to attend to than the fanciful notions of a professor's daughter."

The casual dismissal irritated Chilton more than he cared to admit. "Education is hardly a fanciful notion, Linford. Even for those of more humble birth."

Edward paused, eyebrows rising slightly. "Good God, has she converted you already? Next you'll be advocating for universal suffrage and the dismantling of the peerage."

"Hardly," Chilton replied dryly, though the words sat uncomfortably in his mouth. "I merely observe that there might be practical benefits to basic education for tenant children."

"Practical benefits?" Edward scoffed. "What practical benefit could there possibly be in teaching ploughboys Latin or milk maids geometry? They have their place, Sutcliffe, as do we. The natural order functions best when each person remains within their proper sphere."

They had reached the stables now, where several other gentlemen were gathering for the morning ride.

The familiar scents of horseflesh, hay, and saddle soap filled the air as grooms led out freshly groomed mounts.

Chilton nodded to Lord Beaverbrook and Sean Smythe among the group, along with Dr. Lincoln Welby and several other scholarly gentlemen from Jasper's circle.

"I say, Sutcliffe," Beaverbrook called, tightening the girth on his chestnut gelding, "will you join us? We're planning a circuit of the estate boundaries."

"With pleasure," Chilton replied, grateful for the chance to escape Edward's needling. A groom approached leading his bay—a fine animal borrowed from Lord Thornfield's stables for the duration of his stay.

As he mounted, Chilton observed the scholarly gentlemen engaged in animated conversation near the mounting block.

He caught fragments of discussion about educational theory and social improvement, topics that would normally have caused him to steer clear.

Today, however, he found himself guiding his horse closer, curious despite himself.

"Miss Martin's ideas about female education are quite progressive," Dr. Welby was saying as he adjusted his spectacles. "Though I fear she may be overly optimistic about implementation."

"Indeed," agreed Mr. Whitmore, an older scholar whose conservative views were well-known among the group. "The notion that common girls require anything beyond basic domestic instruction is frankly absurd. What use would advanced mathematics be to a future fishwife or laundress?"

Mr. Smythe frowned at this. "One might ask what use mathematics is to many gentlemen, yet we insist upon their education regardless."

"That is hardly the same thing," Whitmore replied with a dismissive wave. "A gentleman requires education appropriate to his station, just as the lower orders require training appropriate to theirs."

Chilton found his hands tightening on the reins, his mount sensing his tension and sidestepping nervously. He had expressed similar sentiments himself not long ago, yet hearing them from Whitmore's mouth made them sound callous and shortsighted.

"The girl means well," offered another scholar, whom Chilton didn't recognize. "But her ambitions exceed both practicality and propriety. Women of her status would be better served seeking suitable marriages rather than crusading for social revolution."

"I understand she turned down an eligible offer last Season," remarked Whitmore with a knowing look. "Apparently, the gentleman's library wasn't sufficiently stocked with radical treatises."

The men chuckled, and Chilton felt a surge of indignation that surprised him with its intensity.

These were not the rough jests of his hunting companions but the calculated dismissals of men who prided themselves on their intellect.

Their casual belittlement of Miss Martin's aspirations seemed all the more cruel for its veneer of reason.

Before he could think better of it, Chilton guided his horse closer.

"If I might interject, gentlemen," he said, his voice carrying in the still morning air. "I believe you do Miss Martin a disservice."

The group turned as one, surprise evident on their faces at his interruption. Chilton was not known for participating in scholarly debates.

"Lord Sutcliffe," Whitmore acknowledged with a slight nod of his head. "We were merely discussing the practicalities of Miss Martin's educational schemes."

"So I gathered," Chilton replied coolly. "And while practical concerns are certainly valid, I find your dismissal of her intentions rather hasty. There is merit in considering how education might benefit those of humbler station."

A bemused silence fell over the group. Whitmore's eyes narrowed slightly. "You surprise me, my lord. I wouldn't have expected you, of all people, to champion such causes."

"I champion nothing but fair consideration," Chilton replied, uncomfortably aware of the attention he was drawing. "Miss Martin speaks passionately of teaching tenant children basic reading and mathematics—skills that might well make them more effective contributors to estate management."

"Estate management?" Mr. Smythe repeated, a glint of interest in his eye. "You view education through the lens of practical utility, then?"

Chilton hesitated. "I view it as a potential tool, with both benefits and drawbacks to be carefully weighed. But dismissing the concept outright seems shortsighted."

Lord Beaverbrook, who had been listening silently, now gave a thoughtful nod. "A measured perspective, Sutcliffe. Perhaps there is room for both traditional hierarchies and thoughtful innovation."

"Or perhaps," drawled Edward Linford, who had approached unnoticed during the exchange, "our good baron has simply been captivated by the passionate advocate rather than her causes."

A ripple of knowing laughter spread through the group, and Chilton felt heat rise in his face. He was saved from responding by the arrival of Lord Jasper, who announced that they should depart if they wished to complete their ride before luncheon.

As the party set off at a brisk trot down the estate's main avenue, Chilton found himself riding beside Lord Beaverbrook, whose thoughtful expression suggested he had not dismissed the earlier conversation.

"That was an interesting position you took back there, Sutcliffe," Beaverbrook commented as they passed beneath ancient oaks whose yellowing leaves drifted down in the autumn breeze. "Not what one might expect from Bartholemew Sutcliffe's son."

Chilton stiffened slightly at the mention of his father. "My father was a practical man. He would have considered all aspects of estate management, including the potential benefits of a more knowledgeable tenantry."

"Perhaps," Beaverbrook allowed, though his tone suggested scepticism. "Though I recall him being rather firm on matters of social hierarchy."

"Times change," Chilton said simply, surprising himself with the sentiment.

"Indeed they do," Beaverbrook agreed, studying him with newfound interest. "And sometimes, people change with them. Though such changes rarely come without cost."

They rode in silence for a moment, the rhythmic beat of hooves on packed earth providing a comfortable backdrop for contemplation.

The morning mist had burned away, revealing a landscape of rolling hills and neatly tended fields beyond the park's boundaries.

In the distance, Chilton could make out tenant cottages with smoke rising from their chimneys, tangible reminders of the lives that depended on wise stewardship of the land.

"Miss Martin is an unusual young woman," Beaverbrook remarked, interrupting Chilton's thoughts. "Intelligent, principled, and refreshingly direct. In many ways, she reminds me of Greta Billingsley, Pierce Darby’s wife, before she learned to temper her opinions for the drawing room."

"I haven’t yet had the pleasure. Your wife, Lady Beaverbrook strikes me as a woman who still holds firm opinions," Chilton observed with a smile.

"Indeed, she does," Beaverbrook chuckled. "But she has always known when and how to express them most effectively. It is a skill Miss Martin has yet to master, though her passion is admirable."

"You don't find her ideas disruptive?"

"Disruption is not inherently negative, Sutcliffe.

The question is whether the disruption serves a greater good.

" Beaverbrook adjusted his seat as his mount navigated a small ditch.

"But I would caution you—if your interest in the young lady extends beyond intellectual curiosity, you should consider carefully the consequences. "

Chilton frowned. "I'm not certain what you mean."

"Society forgives eccentricity in a gentleman's wife if she brings sufficient fortune or connections to the match.

Miss Martin, from what I gather, offers neither.

" Beaverbrook's tone was matter-of-fact rather than judgmental.

"Your title would protect her to some degree, but you would both face considerable opposition.

Not least from your own family, I should imagine. "

The earl's words echoed uncomfortably with Chilton's own concerns.