In for a Penny by Rose Lerner Page A

same scale as Loweston Grange itself. Nev whistled. But it was not until they got closer that Penelope realized why; it was larger than he had expected too. The whole left part of the cottage was visibly newer, as were the shingles on the roof. Honeysuckle and roses, along with a local plant she didn’t recognize, were just beginning to creep up a new trellis on the older side of the house.
    “Tom Kedge never had glazed windows before!” Nev pulled up the horses in front of a neat drive. “I don’t understand—I thought things had been going poorly here.”
    Surely this was a good sign, but Penelope could not appreciate it. She was seized with nervousness. She did not want to meet Nev’s tenants. What if she could find nothing to say to them? What if they disliked her? What if they only gazed at her blankly like the laborers in the field?
    Nev looked as uncertain as she felt. He had pulled the cart to a stop, but now merely sat holding the reins. They exchanged rueful smiles. She wished there were something she could do, but she was as out of her depth here as he was; more so, probably. He, at least, was used to the idea of having tenants. Mrs. Kedge had given him fresh rolls.
    After half a minute or so, a scrawny boy ran out from behind the house to take the horses. As Nev and Penelope walked up the path, the front door opened and a round woman of middle years stuck her head out the door. “Come in, come in!” As they got nearer, Penelope saw that her bluemuslin gown was nearly new. So was the lace on her cap, though it looked machine-made to Penelope. Her graying hair was inexpertly teased into ringlets around her ears. “I haven’t seen you in so long, Lord Bedlow! Look at you, handsomer than ever! Is this Lady Bedlow?”
    Nev introduced them as Mrs. Kedge led the way into a whitewashed parlor. Freshly cut roses in an earthenware jug stood on the table. The wooden floor gleamed, and the mantelpiece and end tables were crowded with porcelain figurines.
    “Betsey!” Mrs. Kedge called shrilly. “Bring tea for his lordship! And some rolls!” She turned to Nev. “Those were always your favorite. How have you been? We were all so sorry to hear about your father. He was such a wonderful man!”
    Penelope didn’t think Mrs. Kedge noticed the skepticism that flashed across Nev’s face. “Thank you,” he said easily. “I’ve been well. It looks like you have too—you were never so fine the last time I begged rolls from you!”
    Mrs. Kedge smiled at him. “Yes, we had a couple of bad years, but Tom works very hard and he turned us right around. And he tells me there’s so much less waste now that the fields aren’t divided in that ridiculous way. Here, do sit down, please.”
    They sat on sturdy wooden chairs around the table. “Is Tom by?” Nev asked. “I was hoping to discuss with him what needs to be done to—” He trailed off, then repeated, “What needs to be done.”
    “Oh, yes, he’s talking Poor Authority business with the vicar in his counting room. Dear,” she hollered, and Penelope jumped. “Come meet her ladyship! We’ve all been half dying to meet you,” she added more quietly, smiling at Penelope.
    A rather dirty maid came in at that moment, ostentatiously carrying a great silver tea tray. A plate of rolls and half a seedcake sat in the center. “Just set it down on the table andgo, Betsey,” Mrs. Kedge told her. “And wash your face! Aren’t you ashamed for his lordship and her ladyship to see you?” Betsey set down the tray with a rattle and fled, red-faced.
    “She’s a good girl.” Mrs. Kedge poured the tea and presented it in a manner she clearly thought very grand. “I do worry she’ll break the china, though.”
    “You have quite a collection.” Nev gave every evidence of admiration for the china shepherdesses and monkeys dressed as fine lords and ladies that littered the room. “Aren’t you afraid the boys will knock them over? I remember you were forever telling