“Poor little lamb,” she’d used to say. “And you with no mother to look after you.”

Maggie hadn’t liked to be babied, not even then. She’d preferred to remain with her father. To listen to the adults talking—or arguing, which was more often the case where Papa was concerned.

“Miss Honeywell!” Mrs. Square cried. “Bless me. What a sight for sore eyes you are. Oh, but this does bring me back—”

“Enough of that, Mrs. Square,” Mr. Entwhistle said as he ushered Maggie into the cottage’s small parlor. A pair of overstuffed chintz armchairs were arranged in front of a curtained bow window. A low table stood between them. “Fetch some tea for us, and then leave us be. Miss Honeywell and I have estate matters to discuss.”

Once the tea tray had been brought in, and Maggie had poured them each a cup, Mr. Entwhistle settled down to business. He held nothing back from her. He told her about the recent expenditures for improvements to the tenant cottages, and repairs to the water wheel at the mill. About the increase in earnings for this years’ crops. And about the benefits of joining with the Burton-Smythe estate.

“It’s what your father always hoped for,” he said from his seat in the armchair across from Maggie. “Both estates working together as one. It’s why we’ve managed to get better prices this year. It’s all owing to the Burton-Smythes. Sir Roderick in particular. He always did have a level head. Never allowed any emotion to get in the way of business.”

Unlike her father, he might have said.

Maggie returned her teacup to the tea tray. “People loved my father.”

“Aye, he was a rare character. A good friend, and the best sportsman for miles. No one had a better eye for horseflesh than Squire Honeywell.”

“Yes, but I’m talking about the estate. About the management of Beasley Park.”

Mr. Entwhistle took a sip of his tea before slowly clinking his cup back into its saucer. “I often find, Miss Honeywell, that some things are better left unsaid.”

She suppressed a flare of irritation. “Come, sir. You needn’t spare my feelings. I value a bit of plain speaking. It’s why I came here today.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Very well. To put it plainly, then. Your father was not an easy man to do business with. The Honeywell temper, you know. It’s legendary around these parts.”

“Not in a bad way, surely.” Maggie waited for him to reply, but Mr. Entwhistle remained silent. A knot of anxiety formed in her stomach. “I know he could be difficult, but people made allowances. It was something of a joke, wasn’t it? The way he lost his temper? I always found it amusing.”