Page 4 of An Alleged Rogue

Henry’s eyes widened. “You’ll never ’ave to worry ’bout that, m’ lord. Not with me. We’ve both worked too ’ard to perfect Dunsbourne’s cider to ’ave the recipe whipped out from under us.”

Reproaching himself for allowing his suspicious nature to hurt the loyal old gardener, Adam offered him a grateful nod. “You have my thanks.”

Henry shuffled awkwardly. “Well then, I should probably be checkin’ on the asters in the front flowerbed. With all we’ve been doin’ in the orchard, it wouldn’t do fer me to neglect ’em too long.” He bobbed his head and started out of the cart shed.

Adam released a frustrated breath. He could place the blame for his lack of trust in the good intentions of others squarely at Freddie Payne’s feet. But despite his awareness of the unpleasant tendency, his cynicism emerged all too often.

Closing the cart shed doors behind him, Adam made the short walk to the stables. Oliver was outside, walking Molly. She was a broad-shouldered, sturdy animal. More than a match for the mill wheel, as long as she was willing to repeatedly walk a small circuit within the cart shed rather than the lengthy rows of a field.

“Good morning, Oliver.”

The groom looked up. “Mornin’, m’ lord.”

“Now that the millstone is in place, I’d like you to hitch Molly to the wheel for a short time every day. She must be comfortable with her role in the milling process before the fruit comes on.”

“Very good, m’ lord. I’ll take her over there shortly.”

Adam reached out a hand and smoothed it over the plow horse’s neck. “Are you prepared to do your part to help Dunsbourne orchards turn a profit, girl?”

She turned her dark eyes on him and snorted gently.

“I reckon that means yes, m’ lord,” Oliver said.

Adam chuckled. “I sincerely hope so. She cost us a pretty penny, and we’re counting on her.”

“She’ll come through, don’t you worry. I ’ave a good feelin’ about Molly.”

As much as he appreciated his groom’s confidence, Adam could not claim it for himself. He alone knew how much was at risk with the cider-making enterprise. He’d sunk almost all the money he’d recouped since his father’s death into buying the necessary equipment to make it a viable business. It was an unorthodox approach to saving his ancestral home, but after poring over the estate books for months, he’d determined that it was the only solution that offered any chance of success.

“Let me know if she gives you any difficulties in the cart shed,” he said.

“Yes, m’ lord.”

Leaving Oliver to his work, Adam crossed the cobbled courtyard and followed the path that led to the front of Dunsbourne Manor. Flanked on either side by manicured shrubs and trees, the large, sandy-colored stone house sat in a slight hollow, with a wide lawn before it and a flower garden behind. Ivy clung to a good portion of the walls, reaching past the first floor to touch the eaves. Two rows of evenly spaced small-paned windows ran the length of the house, their white frames matching the white front door beneath the portico.

He walked up the steps, experiencing the welcoming embrace of the home that had been in his family for generations as he reached the door and entered the hall.

“May I take your hat and gloves, my lord?” His aging butler shuffled forward and extended his hand. Thompson had been at Dunsbourne Manor for as long as Adam could remember, and even though his movements were slower now than they used to be, he was as reliable as the tide.

“Thank you, Thompson.”

“Adam! You’re back.”

At the sound of his sister’s voice, Adam turned to see Emily standing on the wide staircase. Her smile was genuine and warm, and with a book in her hand she flew down the remaining stairs to join him.

“I was only gone one day,” he said, touched by her enthusiastic greeting.

She crossed the marble-tiled floor. “You weren’t here when I retired last night. I thought perhaps you’d been detained.”

“I did not arrive back until very late.”

“And yet, you have already been out.”

He grinned. He no longer wore his hat and gloves, but there was no hiding his wet boots from her observant eyes. “But of course. Some of us have work to do.”

“Shall I tell you something that would shock every member of the ton, Lord Dunsbourne?” Emily slipped her free hand beneath his arm and gave him a teasing look. “I am fully convinced that beneath that noble exterior of yours beats the heart of an apple farmer.”

Adam chuckled. “I confess I do love walking the orchard first thing in the morning. And seeing the trees so laden with fruit is most satisfying.”