Page 16 of Lyon on the Lam (The Lyon’s Den)

“W e missed Miss Wilton at breakfast this morning,” Eloise said. “Even Meg was disappointed.” Her smile was brief, but her eyes danced. “The young lady left an impression yesterday.”

“She leaves an impression everywhere she goes,” Matthew said. Sometimes it was because she was the sparkly bit at the center of the party, and sometimes it was because she was a harridan battling for her own way. An entire evening of silence was a new, different impression.

He’d waited far too late to eat supper and gone to bed with a headache, worried that she’d choose a hunger strike over civility.

He should have known better. Her tray had been empty at the bottom of the stairs this morning, proving that good sense had won out.

However, it also meant she’d only eaten after she was certain he was asleep.

She’d been able to do it because he’d slept like the dead. It wasn’t just from the trip or from the day outdoors. For the first time in years, he didn’t feel the need to prowl the streets of London looking for people who couldn’t be, or didn’t want to be, found.

“I hope she isn’t ill,” Eloise said.

Tavie’s silent refusal to join them for breakfast could have meant she was ill after waiting so late for dinner. Or perhaps she wasn’t hungry. More likely, she was still punishing him for standing his ground.

“I’m certain she’s fine,” he replied. “Tavie has enough sense to seek help if she’s ill.”

“I see.” Eloise’s flat words hinted that she didn’t see at all—that she’d assumed Tavie’s fit of pique was directed at her or her family.

Damn it . Now she’s left it to me to smooth things over. “No, Eloise. She was quite impressed with Meg and the farm, and she truly enjoyed her day yesterday. I think she’s missed being in the countryside. She spoke at length about it last night.”

She’d shouted most of it.

The older woman’s posture softened a bit. “I am glad she’s enjoying it here.”

“Mm-hmm.” Matthew pulled the cart to a halt and leapt to the ground. After tying the reins to the nearest post, he returned to help Eloise down.

She was already waiting for him, both feet firmly on the ground. She began their walk without a backward glance. “We have a threshing shed in the corner there, if you would like to inspect it.”

“There’s no need,” Matthew said as he trudged forward through the tilled soil. He wasn’t being peevish. He’d seen two of their threshing floors yesterday. They were well designed for their purpose and immaculately maintained.

“The rows here are a bit crooked to begin with,” Eloise said. “It was Meg’s first time behind the team, and they wanted to go their own way.”

There were four drunken rows in the far corner of the field, and the last of them ended in a patchwork of straight lines crossing the angled ones. The rest were as straight as if he’d worked them himself. “She seems to have gotten them in hand quickly.”

“She was pleased with herself.” Eloise’s beaming smile indicated that she was just as proud of her daughter.

If they wanted to leave, they wouldn’t be continuing it like they are. Tavie’s words rattled through Matthew’s brain, replacing yield calculations, seed costs, and planting calendars.

Then everything scrambled together as he stepped on a rock and lost his balance.

After a moment of trying to stop his fall, he gave over to it.

His knees hit first, one of them catching the edge of another stone, then his hands plowed through the soft ground.

Dirt sprayed into his mouth, eyes, and hair.

Heat flooded from his neck to his ears as he pushed himself to all fours and then upright. The pain in his ankle sent him back to his knees. Pain sliced from his toes to his still-aching head. “Goddamn it all to bloody hell and back again.”

Eloise stepped back, her hand over her mouth and her eyes wide.

She kept that pose, and stayed silent, as he knelt in the cool earth and spat dirt until his tongue was clean. His curses had silenced the birds, and the wind had stopped. The quiet pressed on him.

Today was just like most days in his life if Matthew were honest. He had awakened alone, breakfasted alone, and was at work basically alone. Even accompanied by another person, he was lost in his own thoughts and his own goals.

While he wasn’t looking, his world had shrunk to a population of one.

Laughter started deep in his chest, rueful and embarrassed at first, then fuller and truer. Soon his shoulders were shaking as he tilted his itchy, filthy face toward the weak warmth of the morning sun.

Eloise broke into giggles that took years from her face. “That was quite a tumble.”

“Father always said I didn’t do anything by halves.” He shook his hair clean and then used the front of his already dirty shirt to brush the mess from his face. He dropped back to sit on the ground and gingerly lifted his injured foot to his opposite, and aching, knee. “Tavie and I had a row.”

“I thought as much,” Eloise said. “There is more to your relationship than you originally presented.”

It wasn’t a question. She had caught them in the lie.

“We have a long history, yes, but I promise you that we are following your request.” He could not promise that their past would stay in the past. Every time they were together, he lost his ability to reason.

“If it helps, we were arguing about you.”

Eloise arched an eyebrow and waited for his explanation.

“Tavie believes that you would prefer to stay on the farm instead of moving to Hadleigh.” He watched her expression for a clue, but she gave away nothing. “And I believe that if you wished to stay, you wouldn’t have offered the property for sale.”

After a moment, Eloise gave a sad smile. “Tavie is very wise.”

“You wish to stay?”

“We would prefer not to leave, but we don’t know how we can manage to stay.” She squared her shoulders. “I’ll fetch the cart so we can start back. You shouldn’t walk on that ankle, and it will be awkward for you to lean on me.”

Matthew watched her go. The more time he spent with the widow, the more she impressed him. He rubbed his ankle and grimaced—not just at the pain, but at the thought of confessing to Tavie she’d been right all along.

As though she needed confirmation, and she likely wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

Eloise steered the cart as close as possible without risking him being trampled by the team or crushed by the wheels.

Matthew placed his sound foot on the step and drew in a deep breath before he swung himself up and into the box and onto the seat.

The ages-old planks were satiny slick beneath his palm.

They made a wide circle in the field and began the trip back to the farmhouse. The mill’s roof peeked over the tops of the trees. “What about the mill?” he asked. “Did you not wish to move forward with repairs?”

“It wasn’t that,” she said. “It seemed irresponsible to burden the new owner with a going concern when that might not be what they wished for the property.”

“So it was profitable?” Matthew asked.

“It’s the nearest mill for most of the farms in the area.

It makes a fair profit each year. But with Henry gone, and Meg and I in the fields all day, there was no one left to look after it.

” Her gaze swept the horizon, taking in the barn, house, mill, and the trees beyond.

“We’ve been blessed to have a good life here, but… ”

She trailed off, leaving Matthew to fill in the rest of the story.

It wasn’t difficult to do. When Henry Miller was alive and the mill was running, they’d had the money to hire help and a man around to make certain there was no mischief.

Then the millstone cracked, and Henry fell ill, and two women alone didn’t dare hire a young man who might get the wrong ideas.

There was also the possibility that Eloise wanted Meg to have an easier life. That was what Tavie’s mother had argued when she pressed Tavie into accepting Burridge’s proposal.

“And Margaret?” he asked.

“Her father trained her to be a miller. She took to it like a flea to a dog’s ear. It’s breaking her heart to leave.”

Matthew understood broken hearts.

“What if…” He looked at Eloise, but saw the ghost of Tavie’s excitement from the night before.

She would never let him forget this. “What if I bought the property and kept you and Meg on the farm? I could provide a stipend for a few workers of your choosing, perhaps an apprentice for Meg at the mill.”

The older woman stared hard at him, trusting her team to get them to the barn without much guidance. “In exchange for what?”

“Three-quarters of the profits from the harvest and the mill’s earnings, which would only be fair, since I’d be paying wages to both of you as caretakers.”

“Us?”

“I’d be required to hire someone anyway, and I think this place deserves the love and attention of a home, not just someplace to live.” Matthew took in the woman’s shocked expression and white-knuckled grip on the reins. “Unless you find the proposition too insulting.”

Because recent events had proved how wrong Tavie could be.

Eloise pulled the team to a stop under the scant shade provided by an oak whose leaves were still unfurling. “I’ll discuss it with Meg and give you our answer at dinner.” She laughed softly. “That young woman of yours is quite the schemer.”

Matthew wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about admitting to the author of the plan. However, he regretted misleading Eloise about their relationship. It was no way to begin a business partnership. “She isn’t mine,” he said. “She already has a husband.” The word left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“She is fleeing her marriage to be with you?” Only a mother could ask a question that was full of disapproval and pity at the same time.

“No. No.” Matthew put up his hand in the hopes of stopping Eloise’s imagination. “It’s nothing like that. She believes her husband to be a…criminal.” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word spy . It sounded too far-fetched.

“What do you believe?”