“He is a very intriguing man,” Stephen said quietly.

She turned to find her brother regarding her from where he stood, leaning against the cart. “Yes, he is.”

“He’s made quite an impression on Mother and Sophia. And Derrick, too.”

Harriet waited, but Stephen said nothing more, just remained where he was, looking at her.

She sighed. “I’m certain he’s made an impression on everyone here. He has been most generous in a reluctant sort of way.”

Stephen’s gaze trailed to where Chase and Derrick stood. “Can’t say that I blame him for being reluctant. I daresay people have been importuning him for money and favors his entire life.”

Harriet had never thought of that, but it seemed as if it might be true. Certainly the Wards had done just that. She thought of what Chase had let slip about his former life over all their evening meals, of his homes, horses, and carriages. It wasn’t really what he said so much as what he didn’t say. He was of a world far removed from Garrett Park, and she knew that come the end of the week, he would leave and return to the world in which he belonged.

She took no delight in that thought. “With all that money, I’m certain he and his family have done their fair share of charity.”

“Charity and generosity are not the same thing.”

“That is very true.” Harriet forced her lips into a stiff smile. “It’s a good thing we found him, then, isn’t it? I, for one, believe we’ve improved him immensely.”

“Indeed we have. I wonder how he’ll do in London with his newfound country virtues?”

She wished she could believe that he would never forget Garrett Park, never forget her. But somehow, she couldn’t. She would not waste her time wishing for the impossible. Harriet picked up the shears. “We’ve a lot to do today.” With that, she marched out of the barn, intent on working so hard that she didn’t think at all of Chase St. John or his imminent departure.

Chase gripped the stick tighter, glaring at the large sheep that stood just out of arm’s reach. That was the problem, the sheep had managed to remain at arm’s reach for the last thirty minutes. “You blasted scrap of leather.”

Ophelia pushed her spectacles back up on her nose. She sat atop the huge fence that led to the holding pen, watching the whole scene while Derrick remained in the small narrow leader pen to one side. “You can’t talk to them like that.”

“Why not?” Chase snapped, wishing she was anywhere but here. It was hard enough doing this with Derrick dying of laughter at his post. Having Ophelia perched on the gate like a chubby angel, offering advice every two minutes made the chore all the more difficult. “I can speak to them any way I want.”

Blasted hell, this should be easy. All he had to do was use this stick to coerce a sheep into the narrow lead pen where Derrick waited with a looped rope. Derrick would secure the rope about the sheep’s head and tether the animal to the wide board at the head of the pen. Once tied in such a fashion, the sheep was left standing and immobile, and they could shear it.