Lady Pamela Read Online Free Page A

Virginia, where he had resided for most of the past ten years. ’Twas not that he had found the American states unpleasing. Charlottesville, Virginia was a lovely town, nestled in rolling, forested hills, and clean beyond his every memory of English cities. Still, for all the beauty of the new land west of the ocean, Benjamin had never adjusted to the oppressive heat of a Virginia summer, a season which carried well into the current weeks of mid-September.
    Pure bliss, to awaken each morning and not find the sheets drenched in sweat. Bliss, too, to work throughout the day without fear of one’s skin becoming red and scalded with the sun. Benjamin had spent his years in Charlottesville working in the surrounding countryside, taming a land for farm and dairy that the forest did not wish to surrender. The well-mannered Wiltshire landscape was soothing and mild by comparison.
    He did not regret those years abroad. The work had been demanding, but the duke had ever loved a challenge, and the experience of hard, physical labor was something he believed beneficial for any man.
    Bent double, his eyes shielded from the sun by a dingy straw hat, cutting hay. The low, rhythmic sound of the scythe...
    It might not have been allowed, if he had remained in England as the old duke’s heir. Young lords did not work in the fields with their employees. Young lords did nothing much at all, as far as Benjamin could see.
    After dark, the sound of cicadas was loud enough to drown conversation. At night a man slept, exhausted, from the work of the day.
    The Virginia land was an inheritance from his mother and had even been profitable, albeit in a small way, during his last year or two. Profits were welcome, but they had never been the primary reason for his stay in the former Colonies, and when Benjamin returned to England he gave the acreage over to the long-term care of two of his best workers. The profits, such as they were, would remain in Virginia. The gesture had shocked some of his land-owning neighbors; Lord Torrance liked to think his own parents would have been pleased.
    Although his generosity would, no doubt, have infuriated the old duke. Rupert Torrance– Benjamin’s uncle and his father’s oldest brother–had died only nine months after Benjamin’s arrival in Virginia. An unfortunate circumstance of timing, for his own father had already passed away, and it was nearly ten years before Benjamin Torrance–the new Duke of Grentham–again saw the land of his birth.
    “Tch, tch.”
    The duke clucked and lightly spurred Xairephon. The gelding sprang forward. As his mount trotted along, Benjamin mentally reviewed the activities he had planned for that day.
     Pulling burdock weed in the northeast pasture, first off. Cook had warned him not to touch a small stand near the house–she used burdock in tisanes and decoctions–but the rest must go.
    Then, the stone wall along the same pasture needed repair, and a small channel to divert water from the boggiest spots needed digging. After that, Benjamin would check with his steward, to see what else might need to be done.
    The duke spent as little time as possible in reflection. His own thoughts were lately no welcome friends, and he had found comfort only in the most mindless and repetitive labor. Not one to embrace idleness, Benjamin’s appetite for work had become unquenchable, and all summer he had thrown himself into the chores of the estate, waking at dawn even in the long days of late June, and not sleeping until well after midnight. Not that there was any question about the health of the Corsham Manor lands. James Pharr was a conscientious employee, and had performed his duties as estate steward with diligence. Indeed, Lord Torrance had needed to make an effort to find problems worthy of attention.
    Ah– But now that he thought of it, the stable yard should probably be mucked out. “It dunna need mucking every day,” the groom had said, but what did he know? The duke was