The woman scrambled to scoop it up again, red-faced with shame. “I…I am sorry, my lord. I meant no trouble. But that is all I have. You will still take it, will you not?”
Tristan leaned back in his chair, studying her. “The only thing you have?”
She nodded quickly, stroking the bird as though it might calm both of them. “Yes, my lord. I worked as much as I could to raise the rest, but there was not enough. This was the only substitute I could bring.”
For a long moment, Tristan said nothing. His quill rested against the page, idle. Then he exhaled and pushed the ledger away. “Take it with you.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “My lord?”
“Keep it,” he repeated, his voice curt. “You will not need to pay again next month either.”
The woman’s lips trembled with relief. “You are very kind, my lord. Thank you.” She bowed and hurried out with the chicken clutched tight to her chest.
As the murmurs in the line quieted, Gideon folded his arms and looked squarely at Tristan. “I cannot believe you just did that.”
Tristan shrugged. “It was the easier choice. I have no use for a chicken flying around in the carriage. Imagine it leaping about every time the horse galloped.”
“You mean to tell me that is your reason?” Gideon pressed, his voice skeptical.
Tristan nodded.
“Your only reason?” Gideon pressed.
Tristan kept his eyes on the ledger. “What else would it be?”
“Pity, perhaps?”
“Convenience,” Tristan corrected sharply. “If we gave way to pity for every soul who failed to pay, Evermere would collapse into ruin within the year. Sentiment does not balance accounts.”
“I know that,” Gideon responded, his eyes still narrowed. “I was only trying to see if you do as well, my lord.”
“I do,” Tristan responded, his voice just as sharp.
Gideon studied him for a moment longer, but said nothing, though the corner of his mouth twitched as if he was not entirely convinced.
The next tenant came forward, an older man this time. His hands were rough with years of work; he bowed low before speaking.
“My lord, forgive me. I have nothing to offer this month.” His voice shook, and Tristan studied him further. “My only farm horse died last fortnight, and without it I could not manage the fields. Nor could I pay a farmhand to help. I ask only for more time.”
Tristan lowered his gaze to the open ledger, scanning the notes until he found the name. “Mr. Jones, is it?”
The man nodded.
“It says here you have missed payments the last two months as well,” Tristan said, his voice even. “I imagine your horse was still alive then.”
The man looked stricken but admitted, “Yes, my lord. But the harvest was too poor. I had just enough to scrape by, to put food on the table. Nothing more.” His voice dropped lower. “I have taken a job in the marketplace now, one that promises decent pay. By next week, I will have the money. All of it. I promise you.”
Tristan leaned back slightly, weighing his words. The man’s shoulders sagged in a way Tristan couldn’t help but feel terrible about. At last, he closed the ledger with a deliberate hand.
“Next week,” he repeated.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Very well. You may go. Report the sum then.”
The man’s face lit up, and relief washed over him. “Thank you, my lord. Thank you. You will not regret it.” He bowed deeply before hurrying away, gratitude spilling from every step.
Gideon smirked as the man disappeared. “And what was that, then? Convenience again?”
