“When I took over from Timms,” Caitlin said, “some of the agents tried the same thing until they learned that I knew enough to call their bluff and thatIwasn’t bluffing.”
Interesting.That implied that, even three years ago, she’d known enough about pricing to hold her ground against finagling agents. Most young ladies of her station wouldn’t have had a clue.
She went on, “News got around reasonably quickly, and on the whole, they stopped trying to pull the wool over my eyes. But now, I suspect word has gone around that the new owner of Bellamy Hall has taken up residence—and they assume that means you’ll have taken over from me—and believing you to be London born and bred with no real idea of the value of things, they’re hoping to take advantage.”
“I wondered if it was that—that they’re hoping to prey on my relative naivete.”
“Given this is the third incidence, I think it must be that.”
They’d reached the turnoff to the farm. He slowed the horses and made the turn, then set them pacing again.
He glanced at Caitlin. “Given I truly have no idea of the value of cattle—yearling or otherwise—you’ll have to take the lead.”
The smile that curved her lips boded ill for the poor agent. “I’ll be happy to.”
As it transpired, neither she nor Gregory had to do very much. The instant the agent, who was facing off with an irate Martin Cruickshank, saw her walking up with Gregory at her back, the man’s shoulders slumped, and his aggressive stance wilted.
Caitlin halted before Martin and the agent and, with a wave at Gregory, introduced Biggs.
Gregory acknowledged Biggs with a curt and distant—and thoroughly discouraging—nod, then turned to Caitlin. “You have the field, Miss Fergusson.”Do your damnedest.Judging by the spark of laughter that lit her eyes, she’d guessed the words he hadn’t said. To drive home the point, he looked at Biggs and tipped his head Caitlin’s way. “She’s the one you have to deal with.”
Biggs deflated even further and tried to smother a groan. Almost sheepishly, he met Caitlin’s, then Martin’s eyes. “Well, it was worth a try. Can’t blame a man for trying, can you? Same price as last time?”
“No.” Caitlin’s response brooked no argument. She met Biggs’s eyes. “You’re going to have to do better than that, and you know it.”
Biggs looked faintly disgusted, but she gave him no time to stew, engaging him in a brisk negotiation. In short order, she wrapped up a deal that significantly exceeded the price Martin had received the previous year, which put a wide smile on Martin’s face.
Despite that, Biggs seemed pleased to have got his hands on such fine beasts.
After arranging to return in a few days to take possession of the yearlings, Biggs nodded all around and left.
Martin turned to Caitlin and Gregory and showered them with thanks.
Caitlin smiled at the earnest farmer. “That’s what we’re here for, Martin. To take care of that side of the business so you can concentrate on what you do best, namely caring for your herd.”
Gregory nodded his agreement. “Anything like that, call, and we’ll come running.”
After they’d exchanged farewells with Martin, he and Caitlin walked to where he’d tied his horses to a rail. Davy had remained there, admiring the beasts.
With no reason to rush back to the Hall, Gregory paused to watch Martin and his cattleman transfer the sold yearlings into a holding pen. Caitlin halted beside him. After eyeing the young cattle, he said, “They really are fine beasts—even I can see that.”
She smiled. “Bit by bit, we’ll educate you yet.”
He grinned and met her eyes. For a moment, their gazes held, then still smiling widely, he waved her toward the carriage.
When they reached the curricle, he handed her up, then spent a minute talking to Davy while he tried to forget the feel of her slender fingers clasped in his.
Eventually, he took the reins, climbed up, and sat beside her.
And feeling decidedly triumphant, drove back to the Hall at a more leisurely pace.
Chapter 6
On Saturday morning, Gregory sat at the library desk and commenced penning a letter to his sister-in-law Ellen regarding the goats her uncle kept at Bigfield House, the property across the lane from Walkhurst Manor.
All through their childhoods, Gregory and his siblings had played with the goats. Ellen had joined the Bigfield House household only in recent years and, even more recently, had married Gregory’s older brother, Christopher, and moved to live at the manor, but she was close to her uncle, and although Sir Humphrey’s mind was failing, Gregory knew he would enjoy hearing of the goats at Bellamy Hall, and Ellen could be counted on to pass on any advice or tidbits of information her uncle let fall.
He was nearing the end of the letter when Cromwell tapped on the door; Gregory now recognized the butler’s light rap. “Come in, Cromwell.” He looked up to see the butler enter, then carefully shut the door behind him.
