Read Online The Rake by Mary Jo Putney - Free Book Online Page B

though it did conceal the distracting legs. He studied the crown of thick, glossy braids. Her hair must be nearly waist length. Like her body, it was another splendid asset wasted; the expression on her handsome face rivaled Medusa for paralyzing effect.
    â€œGood morning, Mr. Davenport. Is there any particular part of the estate you would like to see first?” Alys’s nervousness came out as waspishness, but it was hard to sweeten her tone when such a difficult day lay ahead of her. Davenport would surely disapprove of some of her innovations, possibly to the point where his tentative willingness to retain her might evaporate.
    Davenport grunted a greeting as she went for her sidesaddle. He looked like a bear with a sore ear, which made it surprising when he took the saddle away from her. “I thought you were going to treat me like a man,” she remarked as he saddled her mount.
    He gave her a slanting glance as he tightened the girth. “That’s hard to do when you’re dressed like a woman.”
    Uncomfortable under his piercing gaze, she changed the subject. “Mr. Davenport, you will see some ... unusual things at Strickland. There are reasons for everything I have done. I ask that you allow me to explain rather than condemning out of hand.”
    He turned from the horse to face her. Alys was once more uncomfortably aware of how tall he was.
    â€œI’ll add any new oddities to the list of questions I have already,” he said dryly.
    The comment did not bode well.
    They led their horses out into the open air. Obscurely unwilling to be touched by Davenport, Alys went to the mounting block before he could assist her. As she settled into the sidesaddle and arranged the fall of her long skirts, she felt the ironic amusement in his gaze. However, he said only, “A beautiful mare,” as he swung onto his own horse.
    â€œShe belongs to me, not the estate,” Alys said defensively. “I have the bill of sale if you don’t believe me.”
    Davenport set his horse out of the stable yard at a trot. “Did I show any sign of doubting you?”
    â€œNo.” She felt like biting her tongue. To hide her embarrassment, she said hurriedly, “Most of the horses in the stables are just for wagon and plow use. The estate owns two riding hacks, but nothing of great quality. I keep my mare here because the steward’s house doesn’t have its own stable.”
    Not dignifying her inane comment with an answer, Davenport put his horse into a fast canter. He rode with the effortless grace and skill of a centaur. She supposed that good riding was essential to a well-rounded rake.
    They traveled in silence until they reached the grain-fields. Some were already planted while others were newly plowed, and a few lay fallow. They reined in and surveyed fields quilted by neat hedges.
    â€œAs I recall, Strickland is just over three thousand acres, about half of that let to tenants and the other half in the home farm,” Davenport said. “From the amount of seed you’ve been buying, I assume that you’ve improved a good deal of what was waste. How much acreage is cultivated now?”
    â€œAlmost two thousand acres, with much of the rest used as pasture.”
    He nodded. “You recently bought a shorthorn ram and a score of ewes to improve the stock. What breed did you buy?”
    â€œSouthdowns from Ellman in Sussex.”
    â€œExcellent choice. Some of the best stock in England.” His gaze slowly scanned the fields in front of them. “You’re using a four-crop rotation?”
    Alys suspected that he was trying to impress her, and he was succeeding. For someone who allegedly had spent his life in taverns and gaming hells, he was extremely knowledgeable about modern agriculture. “Yes, usually with wheat instead of rye. Then turnips, clover, and sainfoin. It’s worked so well that I’ve been able to increase the livestock