30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

A s he put distance between himself and the group, James found his thoughts in turmoil. He couldn't deny the truth in what the farmers had said. Evelyn was indeed a fine woman—intelligent, kind, and undeniably beautiful. And today had proven beyond doubt that she possessed a natural grace when it came to dealing with the tenants.

James took a long swallow of cider, barely tasting it as his mind raced. The idea of remarrying had never truly crossed his mind before, not since... He pushed the painful memory aside. But now, watching Evelyn laugh with the farmers' wives, he couldn't help but see the sense in it.

An estate like his needed a mistress, someone to manage the household and tend to the social obligations he'd long neglected. And his daughters—they deserved a mother figure, someone who could guide them through the intricacies of womanhood that he was ill-equipped to handle.

James found himself at the edge of the gathering, his eyes once again drawn to Evelyn. She was attempting another swing at the soap ball, her face alight with determination and joy. Something stirred in his chest at the sight, a feeling he'd thought long buried.

He shook his head, trying to clear it. It was madness to even consider such a thing. And yet...

James stood at the edge of the lawn, his mind reeling from the revelation that had struck him like a thunderbolt. He'd always assumed that if he ever remarried, it would be a purely practical arrangement—a union of convenience to provide his daughters with a mother figure and his estate with a capable mistress. Love had never entered into the equation.

Yet here he was, his heart racing as he watched Evelyn laugh with the farmers' wives. The warmth that spread through his chest at the sight of her smile was unmistakable, and utterly unexpected.

When had his thoughts turned so fondly towards her? James couldn't pinpoint the exact moment. Perhaps it had been gradual, like the changing of seasons—so subtle he hadn't noticed until he found himself in the midst of it.

He took another swig of cider, barely tasting it as his mind grappled with this newfound awareness. The very notion of love—of opening his heart again—was terrifying. He'd sealed that part of himself away after the tragedy, convinced that such happiness was no longer meant for him.

But Evelyn... She'd brought light back into his home, joy to his daughters' faces. And now, it seemed, she'd awakened something in him he'd thought long dead.

James watched as Evelyn attempted another swing at the soap ball, her face a picture of determined concentration. The sight made his breath catch, a mixture of admiration and something deeper, something he was only now beginning to recognise.

Love. The word echoed in his mind, both thrilling and frightening. He hadn't allowed himself to consider the possibility of a second love match, not in all these years. Yet here he was, his heart quickening at the mere thought of Evelyn's smile.

James watched with a mixture of amusement and unease as the farmers produced their instruments. The lively strains of a country dance filled the air, and soon impromptu lines of dancers formed between the tables. His eyes narrowed as he saw one of the younger farmers approach Evelyn, extending a hand in invitation.

A sharp pang of jealousy shot through him, surprising in its intensity. James tensed, ready to intervene if necessary. But Evelyn's laugh carried across the lawn, light and carefree. She accepted the farmer's hand with a graceful nod, allowing herself to be led into the dance.

James found himself unable to look away as Evelyn attempted to follow the unfamiliar steps. She moved with an innate elegance, even as she stumbled over the more complex figures. Her face was alight with laughter, cheeks flushed with exertion and mirth.

The sight of her, so at ease among his tenants, stirred something deep within him. James realised with a start that he'd never seen her quite like this before—unguarded, joyful, free from the constraints of her position.

As the dance ended, James noticed a crowd of young farm hands gathering behind Evelyn. They jostled each other, each vying for the chance to claim the next dance. The Baron felt his jaw clench, an irrational surge of possessiveness rising within him.

He took a step forward, unsure of what he intended to do. But before he could intervene, Evelyn turned to the group of eager young men with a gracious smile. She said something James couldn't hear, but her words seemed to placate the crowd. They laughed good-naturedly, and one lucky lad stepped forward to lead her into the next set.

James remained rooted to the spot, his emotions in turmoil. He couldn't deny the fierce pride he felt at seeing Evelyn so effortlessly charm his tenants. Yet the sight of her in another man's arms, even in so innocent a context, left him feeling oddly bereft.

James stood at the edge of the gathering, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The lively music and laughter seemed distant, muffled by the roar of his own thoughts. He watched Evelyn as she twirled through another dance, her face alight with joy. The sight both warmed his heart and filled him with an inexplicable sense of longing.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the lawn, James felt as though he stood on the precipice of something momentous. A decision he hadn't even realised he'd been grappling with loomed before him, demanding his attention.

His eyes swept over the assembly, taking in the scene of merriment. Suddenly, he caught sight of Nell in the crowd. She was watching him intently, her gaze knowing. With a slight nod, she made her way towards him, weaving through the revellers with practised ease.

"My lord," Nell said softly as she approached. "You seem troubled."

James grunted, unsure how to respond. Nell's perceptiveness had always been uncanny.

"How long have we known each other, Nell?" he asked, his voice gruff.

She tilted her head, a small smile playing at her lips. "Why, I've been at the estate since I was a girl, my lord. You know that."

"Precisely," James nodded, his gaze drifting back to Evelyn. "And in all that time, I don't think I've ever been able to hide anything from you."

Nell followed his line of sight, her expression softening. "I can tell when you're in turmoil, my lord. It's written all over your face."

James sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to those who know you well," Nell replied gently. She paused, her eyes searching his face.

James found himself strangely comforted by Nell's presence. Her familiar face and steady gaze grounded him amidst the tumult of his thoughts. Without quite meaning to, he blurted out a question that had been nagging at him.

"Nell, what do you do when you're troubled?" he asked, his voice gruff with barely concealed emotion. "You always seem so... light. So cheerful. As if nothing ever bothers you."

Nell's eyes widened slightly, surprised by the personal nature of his query. She tilted her head, considering her response carefully.

"Well, my lord," she began, her voice soft but clear, "my mam always told me something that's stuck with me all these years."

James raised an eyebrow, silently urging her to continue.

Nell's lips curved into a gentle smile. "She said that if something's troubling me so much, then it's not the right thing to do. The right thing, she always said, feels easy and without any doubt."

James felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. He stared at Nell, his mind racing to process her words. The simplicity of the advice struck him deeply, challenging everything he'd been grappling with.

"Without any doubt," he repeated softly, more to himself than to Nell. "Has that worked for you?"

"It has, my lord," Nell said with surprising conviction. "My life's without much in the way of regrets."

"How fortunate you are," James said with a small smile, slightly tinged with sadness. With a bow, he excused himself.

James retreated from the lively gathering, his mind a tempest of conflicting thoughts. He found himself in the quiet solitude of his study, the muffled sounds of merriment filtering through the closed door. With a heavy sigh, he sank into the worn leather of his chair, his fingers absently tracing the familiar grooves in the armrests.

As he sat there, contemplating the events of the day and the unexpected stirrings in his heart, James's hand drifted to his pocket. His fingers brushed against something cool and metallic, and he froze. Slowly, he withdrew the object, holding it in his palm.

Was he truly doing what was right for his daughters? For his estate? For himself?