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the parlor?”
    Chapter Four
     
    “I wonder if they employ a four-crop rotation,” Bella mused, surveying the latest documents she’d requested from the estate steward at Traherne Abbey. The man hadn’t questioned her interest, likely assuming Sebastian was aware she’d asked for the papers to be sent up.
    Monty sipped his wine. “Most farmers do.” They were out on the front lawn, lunching at a linen-covered table that had been set out for their meal. “They alternate wheat, barley, and a root crop like turnips.”
    “And the fourth field is planted with feed for the livestock?”
    He nodded. “I see you’ve learned well from your study of French and Spanish farming methods during our travels.”
    “Yes, that explains why I’m so well acquainted with barley and turnips.” She fixed a pointed look on him. “But where did the mysterious Monty gain his vast knowledge of agriculture?”
    “It is no mystery,” he said, putting his glass down on the table. “I’ve managed an estate book or two in my time.”
    “You’ve worked for a grand estate?” Tabby interjected from behind her easel.
    “Something like that.” Rising from the table, he wandered over to look at her painting of the house. “Lovely use of color. What shades did you use for the sky?”
    Blushing with pleasure, Tabby explained her color choices. Bella noted how deftly Monty deflected attention from himself—and his past. Taking in his tall, trim frame and unassuming posture as he bent over Tabby’s painting, she decided if Monty had secrets, they were his to keep because her every instinct suggested he was as honorable as he appeared. Returning her attention to the papers before her, she said, “Traherne Abbey appears profitable enough now, but it wasn’t doing very well just a few years ago.”
    Josette groaned. “Must you always speak of such boring matters? It is a waste of time when one could be dancing or shopping.”
    “These boring matters, as you call them, are what keep us all comfortable and well fed,” Bella said. “I should dearly like for that to continue.”
    “You are running out of the money?”
    Reaching for a meat pastry, Orford answered for Bella. “She thinks Sebastian is helping himself to a bit too much of the pie, a sum far beyond his fixed allowance as her husband.”
    Silly as it was, Bella winced inwardly at his reference to Sebastian as her husband. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine the dark stranger in his place. A pleasant sensation flowed through her at the memory of his quiet strength and the lingering scent of musk shaving soap and male skin. One look into those vivid emerald eyes was enough to make her want to forget all about honor and duty. She sighed. “I wonder how long it will be before I become accustomed to thinking of Sebastian as my husband.”
    Tabby cast her a sympathetic look. “But what can you do? A husband retains all power over his wife.”
    “Perhaps.” She’d given that point a great deal of thought. “But at least I shall be duchess while he remains a mere mister. I must use the power of my rank to exert influence over ducal affairs.”
    “Such lofty goals.” Josette yawned. “I tire just thinking of it.”
    Bella did have ambitious aspirations where Traherne was concerned. Gazing across the verdant lawn to the gracious, unfussy lines of the ivory-tinted Palladian villa, she experienced a sense of homecoming. Although it was a minor property in comparison to the ducal seat at Traherne Abbey, she felt far more at home within Strawberry Hill’s cozier confines. She’d hated ambling around the abbey’s vast emptiness, with little in the way of company save the assortment of nurses, governesses, and servants who’d been paid to keep her company in lieu of the family she’d never had.
    A deep-rooted connection bound her to both properties and, indeed, to all of Traherne. The duchy was what grounded her and gave purpose to her life. As a child, she’d barely