“Thank you, Mr. Snively,” she said. “I-”

“He’s right about Lord Bedlow,” Kedge interrupted. “A real gentleman. If he’d raised the rents any higher in ’16, we’d all have lost our holdings to the bank.”

Nev nodded. “He would never have wanted that.” Penelope didn’t think anyone else caught the way his mouth twisted over the words. “You old-timers are the backbone of this place. You’ve lived here since before I was born, haven’t you?”

Penelope was amazed how well he did this. She was nearly paralyzed with shyness and distaste, but Nev sat easily at the Kedges’ table, looking not at all out of place, the sun from the window glinting on his cinnamon hair and candor shining in his blue eyes. Tom Kedge would be eating out of his hand.

Kedge puffed out his chest a little. “I have indeed. Why, I remember when you was that big, running about wanting to play with the workhorses!”

Nev smiled at him. “I was hoping you might advise me on what is best to be done to get things back in shape.”

“I am so glad you asked,” Mr. Snively began. “I’ve been keeping a list-”

Penelope grimaced, and Nev flashed her a laughing look. “That is wonderful. My wife is fond of lists as well. But I should like Mr. Kedge’s opinions on agricultural matters first.”

Kedge chewed on his lower lip. “It’s going to take work. Unless you’ve got a lot of the ready at your disposal, it could take a long time too.”

Penelope thought wistfully of the hundred thousand pounds in trust for their children.

“The soil just isn’t up to snuff,” Kedge said. “If you could afford a few head of cattle, that would help quite a bit.”

“Cattle?” Nev asked. Penelope was equally at a loss.

Kedge roared with laughter. “You know what they say in these parts. Muck is the mother of money!”

Mr. Snively wrinkled his nose in distaste. Penelope, seeing it, hastily smoothed out her own features.

“Mr. Kedge-” Penelope was unsure if it were wise to ask, but she was desperate for an answer of some kind and foresaw a long conversation full of manure and farming implements if she did not. “We drove past the fields on the way here, and-the men did not look happy.”

Kedge chuckled. “You should have seen them in ’16! Lucky for us, the worst have been transported. Poachers and malcontents, the lot of ’em.”

Mr. Snively sniffed. “I cannot agree. The threat of revolt is as real today as it was in ’16. Indeed, if I may just drop a word in your lordship’s ear-I worry that certain of your tenants are far too lenient with their men.”

Penelope frowned. “What do you mean by ‘too lenient’?”

“Allow me to warn you, my lady, against the tales of hardship you will surely hear. I see you are delicately bred with tender sensibilities”-Penelope tried not to stare in disbelief-“and these sneaking folk will seek to impose upon you in hopes of money.”

“And which of my tenants are you accusing of overleniency?” There was a slight edge in Nev ’s voice. “Not Mr. Kedge, I presume.”

“I hope not!” Kedge laughed loudly.

Mr. Snively permitted himself a dry chuckle. “Certainly not. Tom’s laborers come to church on Sunday, every one, if they know on which side their bread is buttered, and afterward they work a half day.”

Well, that explained the vicar’s enthusiasm, Penelope thought.

“He had the idea from Mr. Coke,” Mrs. Kedge said.

Mr. Snively raised his eyes to Heaven as if Mr. Coke were to be found there. “That man is the benefactor of Norfolk, and it would be a great thing if everyone who held the souls of these rough folk in their hands would do as much. The rest of your tenants’ men spend the Lord’s day in drunken idleness, and you know they say the devil finds work for idle hands.” He looked at Nev significantly. “Poaching.”

Kedge shrugged. “I’d rather have them poaching than burning the barns.”

Mr. Snively folded his hands together with a very grave air. “I am afraid I cannot agree. I know Sir Jasper is most concerned. Nothing discourages the blackguards, not even the increased severity of the laws. Even Sir Jasper’s spring guns do nothing to deter them.”

“Spring guns?” Penelope asked. “What are those?”

“They are dangerous and criminal,” Nev snapped. “They are designed to shoot anyone who sets off a trip wire, and they will maim or kill a dog or a-a passerby as often as a poacher. Does Sir Jasper really still use them?”

Mr. Snively changed tack impressively. “Unfortunately, he does, though I have urged him against them many and many a time. They are, alas, not in the tradition of Christian forbearance. It is not easy for sinful men to turn the other cheek, but so we must strive to do, else our own souls shall become as black as the pitch-smeared faces of these poachers. I see your lordship is a true follower of our Lord.”

They had been traveling along the road to Loweston Grange for less than a minute when Nev said fiercely, “I should have told you before. Never, under any circumstances, set foot on Greygloss land if I am not with you. If you are in our woods, and you come to a fence, do not go over it. Sir Jasper uses mantraps and spring guns to catch poachers. It isn’t safe.”

Penelope was touched. He needed her alive, of course, to keep the interest on the hundred thousand pounds that remained, and even if he wished for his freedom she hardly imagined him capable of arranging her death; but there was surely a measure of real concern in his looks. “I never heard of such a thing,” she said. “It seems barbaric.”

“It is. If a man is poaching, he must take his chances. But a spring gun doesn’t look before it shoots. I cannot credit that Sir Jasper has not taken them down, after what happened.”

“What do you mean?”

Nev ’s profile was grim. “Sir Jasper’s wife was killed by one of the guns, two years ago. She ought to have known better than to go walking in Sir Jasper’s coverts, but-well, no one knows what happened. She was found with a bullet through her head.”

Penelope shuddered. “How awful!”

Nev shook his head. “I still cannot believe the guns haven’t been taken down.”

“And yet, it appears that Sir Jasper has put a deal of energy into improving the district. Perhaps he is a good man, with simply this one mania against poachers.”

“The district does not seem much improved to me.”

Penelope could not argue with this. “Maybe it would have been even worse without the changes,” she said uncertainly. “ Nev, what exactly happened in ’16?”

“It was a bad summer. It rained a lot. The harvest failed in a lot of places. There were riots all over East Anglia -didn’t you hear about them?”

She felt her cheeks heating. “Oh! I suppose I did. There were riots at Loweston?”

“Nothing big. They smashed up some things. It was worse in other places, I think. I remember at Cambridge, there was talk of arming the students to put down the riots.”

Penelope couldn’t help a smile. “That sounds rather…ill-judged.”

Nev smiled ruefully back, and something warm unfurled inside her. “I didn’t think so at the time, but yes, it probably would have been.”