Hart smiled. He knew she’d react like this. “I’ve been giving that some thought. The farm is Danny’s by right, and though he doesn’t want to live there now, it would be to his advantage to own some property in the future. I can transfer the property permanently into his name, and rent it out to the Glovers.”

She nodded. “I suppose that’s the sensible thing to do. I just wish . . . But there are the children to think of. And though the man is a brute, I’ve never heard Danny say anything bad about the woman.”

Nor much good, Hart thought, but he supposed the woman was too downtrodden to withstand her husband’s orders. “I could offer them tenancy of the farm, but only in Mrs. Glover’s name. Then, technically at least, she would be in charge.”

Her eyes lit up. “What a marvelous suggestion, Hart. Horrible Glover will then have to defer—at least in theory—to his wife, and if he leaves, she’ll still have the security of a home.” She sobered. “But I think you should talk about it privately with Mrs. Glover before you do anything. Just in case Glover reacts badly and takes it out on her.”

He nodded. “Good idea. You can come with me. She’ll probably feel more comfortable talking to a woman. But I’ll tell the boys about their relationship at teatime. I think they’ll be thrilled to find they’re half brothers. I’ll discuss the question of the farm with Danny too. He’s young, but he’s shrewd.”

Chapter Twenty-two

You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope . . . I have loved none but you.

—JANE AUSTEN, PERSUASION

A month. They’d been married a month already. George found it hard to believe. In some ways it felt like they’d been married forever; in another it felt just a short time, the time had flown so swiftly.

It wasn’t quite an anniversary, but she thought it deserved a little celebration.

After all, she had promised to rub, cherish and olé him. There had been quite a lot of rubbing—she grinned to herself—and the cherishing had been lovely too. Now it was time for some celebrating.

She woke early and chivvied him out of bed for a dawn ride—and not the kind he wanted. “On horseback,” she said, and he’d groaned and turned over. And then, grumbling, got out of bed.

It was a perfect late summer morning and the ride was glorious. On returning home, she went upstairs for a quick bath, and he went into the library where his mail awaited him.

Joining him at the breakfast table, she noticed he looked rather grim. “Is anything the matter?” she asked.