Miss Milton Speaks Her Mind by Carla Kelly

to her image. I wonder if I am relishing the novelty of having someone else make decisions around here.
    She couldn’t deny that his frequent presence on the estate was having the desired effect on Lord Denby. She smiled, thinking of the cribbage games that were so often detouring into loud discussion on Lord Denby’s part. She could not remember Mr. Butterworth raising his voice, but when he left in the afternoon, and she went to visit Lord Denby, he always seemed more alert.
    Only today, Lord Denby had thrown off the blanket she liked to spread over his legs when he sat in his chair, and walked up and down in front of his window, exclaiming about Mr. Butterworth and his liberal tendencies. “It’s downright dangerous, Jane, when a man thinks he can buy a cotton mill, educate some rabble to run it, pay them more than other mill owners, and expect to get any work out of them!”
    â€œ So that’s what he does,” she murmured, as she folded the unneeded blanket over the chair and then scooped the pegs back into their pouch. “Oh, dear, and he is losing money by being kind?”
    She smiled at her mirror image, remembering how Lord Denby had stopped his marching about to stare at her. “No, no, Jane! That’s the deuce of it!” he had exclaimed, with quite the power of his former arguments. “He makes money! I don’t understand it, either,” he concluded, with a shake of his head. “Republican tendencies will ruin a nation faster than a good dose of plague.”
    â€œ My lord, some would say that the United States is a case for disagreement,” she had ventured, but Lord Denby only shook his head again and continued his pacing, muttering under his breath about the “evils of democracy” and a “ramshackle experiment.”
    â€œ He even went so far as to tell me that he hoped Edward Bingham would come from Connecticut for the reunion, so they could have a rousing debate,” she told Mr. Butterworth the next morning as he walked her to the door, after she had brought Andrew. “Mr. Butterworth, I believe he is having more fun with this than any puny wrangling over your lake.” She put her hand on his arm. “Do you really run your factories along republican lines?”
    â€œ Guilty as charged,” he replied cheerfully, as he tucked her arm through his and left the house with her. “We prefer to call them utilitarian lines, however. I’ll walk you to the edge of the lake, Miss Milton, provided Lord Denby has not mined it and posted a patrol to keep me off disputed boundaries.”
    She laughed. “Only because it has not occurred to him yet, sir!” She stopped to look him full in the face. “Mr. Butterworth, thank you for replenishing his supply of umbrage.”
    He inclined his head toward hers in a little bow. “What an odd compliment, Miss Milton. It will go right to my head.”
    â€œ I doubt that, sir,” she teased. “You have far more on your brain than frivolities.”
    â€œ Indeed I do, my dear,” he said, and started her in motion again. “I am only doing what others are attempting in Scotland and Birmingham. I do believe that kindness is a far more useful incentive than niggardly wages, overwork, and humiliation.” He looked at her. “Is this scary democracy? I prefer to think of such revolutionary ideas as Christian kindness.”
    â€œ Mr. Butterworth, you are a rare man, indeed,” she said.
    â€œ I know,” he replied, giving her a nudge when she laughed. “Miss Milton, your laughter is a tonic!”
    â€œ Oh, dear! Lady Carruthers claims it is unrefined.” She sighed. “Which brings me to a far less sanguine matter: We received a post from her yesterday evening.”
    â€œ And?” he prompted.
    â€œ And she and Cecil will be here in two weeks—two weeks!—to celebrate Christmas with us.”
    They walked along in silence