Page 38 of An Unfamiliar Duke

“There’s your first sparrow,” he said.

“It was a blackbird.”

He glanced back at her, relieved to see humor shining in her eyes. “It was a bird—in flight even. I believe it counts.” Her giggle was so soft he barely heard it over the sounds of the wind above and running water ahead. He squeezed her hand. “I hear the river. We are almost there.”

The trees thinned, opening onto a wide strip of grass that ended at the riverbank. Sebastian drew Rosalind forward so she could see the view more clearly. Tangled shrubs and long grasses lined the river. On the other side of the rapidly flowing water, a field dotted with sheep undulated up a gentle slope. At the crest of the knoll, a low stone wall divided the meadow from a small cottage.

“You can see the roof of one of our tenants’ cottages,” he said, pointing up the hill. “We have almost a dozen tenants in total, but most of their homes are clustered a little lower down, in the vale beyond this one. David Beckett and his family live in that cottage. He’s a shepherd.”

Rosalind studied the distant house and its pastoral setting. “It is a truly beautiful prospect.”

“Yes. I have always thought so.”

She smiled at him. “You have reason to be proud of Finley Park, Sebastian. I do not mind if you say so.”

Startled by her perception, he met her look. “I am proud of it—proud of what my ancestors have built here and for the care they took of the land and those living on it. But pride has such ugly connotations, it is not a word I choose to use often.”

“Which makes you a most unusual duke,” she said.

“An accusation I cannot deny. Do you happen to know of any other noblemen who would rather design a bridge than attend a foxhunt?” Purposely redirecting the conversation onto a less discomforting subject, he pointed at the nearby wooden structure. “That one in particular.”

Her eyes widened. “You have designed the replacement yourself?”

“Yes.” He led her closer to the old bridge. “My grandfather commissioned this one to be built over sixty years ago, but neither he nor the engineer took into account the flooding that occurs whenever we have heavy rainfall. The debris that regularly washes down the river combined with the frequent high water levels have severely impacted the integrity of the wooden piers. The one closest to the other bank has started to split.”

Rosalind leaned forward to study the distant pillar. “I see the high-water-mark stain on the wood.”

“Do you see the crack running through it?”

She strained to see through the buffeting wind. “Yes. It appears as a dark line near the water, but it becomes wider the higher it goes.”

“That’s right. On the backside, a portion has actually broken off. Thankfully, David heard the wood crack when he was in the field last spring, otherwise we may not have noticed until the pier gave way. We roped off both sides of the bridge to prevent people from using it, but closing it has been an inconvenience for the tenants, who have a considerably longer walk when they have business at the house.”

“Now that we are married and Mr. Frandsen has promised to release the trust fund money, how long will it take to replace?”

“That will depend a great deal upon Mr. Darby’s willingness to cast the new piers.”

“Mr. Darby?”

“Abraham Darby. He is the man responsible for building the iron bridge over the Severn.”

“I thought you attributed that bridge to a Mr. Pritchard.”

Once again, Sebastian was impressed by her memory for details. “Pritchard was the engineer who designed the structure. Darby runs the iron works responsible for casting all the pieces.

“Unfortunately, Finley Park is too far removed from his iron works to make a large iron bridge feasible. The cost of transportation would be prohibitive, not to mention how long such a project would take to complete.” He looked over at the roped-off bridge. “But if Darby’s bridge over the Severn is any indication, iron piers withstand a river’s wear and tear far better than wooden ones. My design calls for an iron foundation with a wooden deck above.”

“How marvelous.” Her face shone with excitement. “I should love to see your renderings for such a structure.”

He had expected mild interest. Polite enthusiasm, perhaps. He had not anticipated genuine eagerness. “You wish to see my diagrams?”

“Yes.” She suddenly looked unsure. “If I may.”

He smiled, hoping to reassure her. “Of course you may. I would be delighted to show them to you.”

“Well then,” she said, “perhaps it is time to return to the house after all.”

This time, they followed the river until they bypassed the wooded area and came to the hedgerow that separated the river from Finley Park’s expansive lawn.