“No, it doesn’t. I asked him what was wrong, but he will not say. Mother wants you to speak with him when you come home. Are you almost done?”

“Almost.” Harriet appeared concerned. “I could leave now, I suppose. I really should see what’s amiss—”

“Nonsense,” Chase said. “Your brother is a grown man. Leave him be.”

Harriet appeared offended. “Even grown men need comfort at times.”

“When you’ve made a mull of things, it’s your responsibility to fix them. Your responsibility and no one else’s.”

“You, sir, are wrong. If I made an error, I would think nothing of asking my family for help.”

Chase met her gaze with a flat look. “We never know what we’ll do until the circumstances arise.”

“I know what I would do under any circumstances. And anyone who keeps secrets from his own family is a selfish wretch.”

Chase stiffened, a thousand rejoinders burning a way to his lips, though they remained stubbornly closed.

“Uhm, Harriet?” Ophelia said, looking interestedly from one to the other. “Shall I tell Mother you are on your way?”

“Please do,” Harriet said shortly, her gaze still locked with Chase’s.

“Very well.” Ophelia waited a moment more, but when nothing else was said, she gave a sigh and kicked the horse into a lumpy trot.

Chase wrenched his gaze from Harriet to see if Ophelia was yet out of range. When he turned back, Harriet was already gracing the seat of the cart, her gaze fixed straight ahead, the reins in her hands.

“I’m off to the house,” she said, without looking at him. “If you wish a ride, climb on.”

She said the words as if they had been wrenched from her.

Chase planted his hat more firmly on his head. “I’ll walk.”

“All the way to the house?” She started to say something, then stopped and shrugged. “Very well. I will see you at dinner. Don’t forget Lady Cabot-Wells is coming to make an inspection of Captain Frakenham this evening. It won’t do for you to arrive smelling like sheep ointment.”

The harridan, ordering him about as if she owned him. “It won’t do for her to see you in that gown, either,” he retorted. “It’s hideous.”

She turned slowly and eyed him from head to foot, stopping to gaze at his sagging boots, faded breeches, and ragged hat. “It’s a good thing I have such a qualified fashion advisor.” She smirked and then turned away to set the farm horses into motion.

Chase watched, fuming, as she drove to the opposite field, picked up Derrick and the two hired hands and, without so much as a glance his way, headed the cart down the path toward Garrett Park.

Chase was left, standing by the mended fence, reeking of sheep ointment, and facing a long, long walk back to the house. Teeth clenched against a stream of scathing invectives, he began walking.

Chapter 18

Never let it be said that I don’t enjoy a good bottle of brandy now and again. I don’t usually remember enjoying it, of course, but I must, for I keep returning for more.