The Hired Hero Read Online Free PDF Page B

are no men to spare. Perhaps in a few days, if we are lucky.”
    The duke clenched his hands. “At least may I send a letter through?”
    The general gazed into the distance, his eyes riveted on the thin red lines moving through a ruined cornfield. “Nothing but military dispatches,” he snapped. “Can’t you see what is happening here? Gather the others and be ready to move in ten minutes.”
    It was quite clear which rank took precedence on the battlefield
    * * * *
    Davenport rubbed his temples. Good lord, it was a lot of money, but he could manage it, just barely. He smiled in grim humor at the last remark of the young lady upstairs—there would be no new wardrobe from Weston or boots from Hoby, that was for sure. Not that it mattered. He had no intention of venturing to Town any time soon. He had meant what he had said about being a farmer. It was time someone of his lineage set the estate to right.
    With that in mind, he closed the ledger book and reached for his jacket. The feel of the coarse wool made him smile again. He did have clothes befitting a gentleman, but these garments were more practical, given that he intended to work alongside his tenants As well as keeping his mind occupied, it would show them the new earl was not at all like his older brother, no matter what it appeared.
    But it was a sharp observation the stranger had made. Davenport’s brow furrowed as he walked to the stable. Who was she, and how had she received such cuts and bruises? He could swear he had seen a look of wariness cross her face for an instant when he had asked her who she was. In fact, he was sure she had deliberately avoided answering his question. His lips compressed. He had seen similar injuries on the face of a lady. It sickened him, but he told himself in this case, it was none of his business. He planned to get her back to whoever was responsible for her as soon as possible. Another helpless female was the last sort of distraction he needed in his life.
    Sykes was waiting for him, holding the reins of the big black stallion who was tossing his head even more impatiently than earlier in the morning. Davenport patted the muscular neck.
    “You shall have your run before the day is out, Nero,” he promised as he swung into the saddle. But he kept the horse in tight check as the two men headed out to the fields. There was still much to discuss concerning work to be done.
    They approached an expanse of fallow land. A group of men, stripped to the waist and already covered with a film of dust, were toiling to clear the overgrown weeds from the soil.
    “I went ahead and purchased seed. There is still time to get a crop in if we hurry,” said Sykes.
    The men looked up as the two riders slowed their pace. Some nodded a curt greeting to the steward while most simply stood and regarded the earl with suspicion.
    “You have your work cut out for you, milord,” observed Sykes in a low voice as they dismounted.
    Davenport nodded grimly and began to remove his shirt.
    * * * *
    The horse’s flanks were lathered with sweat. Even though he was bone tired, Davenport had enjoyed the hard gallop back to the manor house. The cool breeze felt good on his parched skin and blew some of the dust from his hair. It was brutally hard work, but so far he had not disgraced himself. He stripped to no disadvantage with  his broad shoulders and lithe build. And though the surreptitious glances cast his way throughout the day seemed to expect—nay, wish for— his collapse, he had accomplished as much as any man there. They may not like him yet, he thought with satisfaction, but they were a fair way along to respecting him. That was what Sykes had told him—that he would have to earn their trust.
    That was fair enough, as long as they gave him a fighting chance.
    The doctor’s gig stood by the stable as he rode in. Davenport swore under his breath. He had forgotten all about his mysterious visitor. Tossing the reins to the grizzled groom who