The stable masters son, p.3
The Stable Master's Son, page 3
His eyes scanned the crowd until he found the Duke of Larmont. Miss Carter had been speaking to him before the match. Were the two well acquainted? When the duke had left, he had indicated they had some sort of association. Could Miss Carter have any influence on the man?
Philip shook his head. What was he thinking? He had not even met with the duke yet, and he was already coming up with an alternate plan? What had happened to his confidence in himself? In his horse?
“I will meet you at home, Father.”
His father nodded and moved off in the opposite direction.
Philip strode toward Adonis. There was no reason to mingle any longer. The loss rankled most of the gentlemen. There was little need to visit with them. They would only come up with more excuses for their loss the more time they had to think on it. Then they would be unbearable.
Besides, if Philip left now, he could brush Black Thunder down once more and then change into more suitable clothing before the duke arrived. Not that he doubted his father had seen to everything before he left for the match.
But Philip liked to be certain. Seeing to Black Thunder now would be better for the sale than any conversation Philip could have with the man. He’d seemed less than impressed when Philip had introduced himself earlier. He would let his horse sell himself. Black Thunder was impressive enough for a duke, or anyone else. Besides, Philip needed the calming influence the brush strokes would bring.
He swung up onto Adonis and replayed the conversation with the duke for the dozenth time. Why had he gone over to talk to the man? Why had he not realized the duke was talking with Miss Carter rather than examining Adonis? Why could he not stop obsessing over this?
He swallowed. Because he needed this sale. What would he do if the duke did not buy Black Thunder? A whole new line of questions streamed through Philip’s mind. What had happened to his optimism of earlier? They had won the match. Should that not have given him even more confidence?
No. He knew how these gentlemen were. Most were a bunch of insolent pups. It would not surprise Philip to see a few of them exact their revenge by withholding their shillings from the local shopkeepers for a week or two. After all, what did they care if their servants should have to travel several villages over to purchase what was needed?
He flicked the reins, setting Adonis into a canter. The sooner he returned to Greystone, the better. His confidence would return the moment he smelled the hay in his stables. And it would only improve once he was with the horses.
Philip rode into the stable yard and hopped off Adonis before the horse came to a full stop. He strode purposefully toward the first building. He could always lose himself and his worries in the stables.
He shrugged off his tailcoat and draped it over the nearby railing, then set himself to it, losing himself in his work.
The hinge on the stable door creaked and a ray of light appeared, growing wider as the door opened fully. Philip squinted slightly. Had his father returned from the match? He was likely coming to tell Philip it was time to change into clothes more fitting for his meeting.
It was all for the best. He was nearly done here. Philip’s hand stilled mid-stroke before he pulled it down to his side. He took a step back, his chest swelling with pride. Black Thunder was impressive. Philip could only hope he would win over the duke.
Movement pulled Philip’s eyes from his pride and joy.
The duke moved down the aisle and came to a stop at the side of Black Thunder’s stall.
Philip swallowed. Where had the time gone?
Larmont looked at Philip over the rail. “I called for you at the house, but your housekeeper told me you were here.” He raised a judgmental brow. “You do not have a groom to perform such tasks?”
Philip’s grip tightened around the brush in his hand. Yes, he did have a groom. Himself. Philip was master, stable master, and groom. He also managed the cows and the sheep. Although, if he was being honest, he did not do the tasks on his own. His father shared in the duties. And he employed one stable boy. But he was young and still had much to learn.
He bristled at the slight. Why did the arrogance of the aristocracy still chafe? He had been raised in the stables, starting out as a mere stable boy. Never had the upper class shown him any deference. Yet standing here in his own stable, on his own estate, it made him angry to be treated with such disdain.
“I wished for you to see Black Thunder at his best. And what better way to ensure that than to do it myself?” He winced internally at the slight to his father, even though that was not his intention. “I did not want to leave anything undone.”
The duke shrugged, noting Philip’s appearance. “I suppose I can respect such a decision. Although, I might caution you that not all the ton will see it that way. Many will regard you as no better than a servant if you do a servant’s work.” He stepped into the stall and ran his hand down the side of Black Thunder. “Especially when you choose to play cricket on the workers’ team.” There was definitely accusation in his voice.
“Your team seemed to be represented well enough.” Philip sucked in a long, quiet breath. He had not been asked to play on the gentlemen’s team. It showed how he was thought of in his own neighborhood.
“It did not go unnoticed. I can assure you of that.” The duke kept his eyes on Black Thunder.
This man was infuriating. Although Philip supposed he should expect as much from a duke. The man had likely not lifted a finger in any kind of work for the whole of his life. He could not appreciate what Philip had accomplished here.
“I shall consider that in the future, Your Grace.” There was no point arguing or refuting the duke’s words. He likely was not even listening to Philip anymore. “Thank you for your wisdom.”
The duke walked around Black Thunder, squinting his eyes and rubbing at his chin. “Does his name have significance?”
Philip moved in front of the horse and pulled a carrot from his coat pocket. Black Thunder lipped it into his mouth and chewed. “Indeed, the night he foaled, there was no moon and storm clouds blanketed the sky, masking even the starlight. It was the blackest night I have ever seen.” He pressed his forehead against the horse’s. He would miss this horse once he sold him. But it was necessary if he was to make his estate profitable. “As he tumbled onto the straw, a clap of thunder ushered him into the world.”
The duke nodded. “And what of his bloodline?”
Philip grinned. He, himself, may not impress the duke, but Black Thunder’s bloodline surely would. “His sire is Two Shoes, and he is a direct descendant from the Godolphin Barb.”
Larmont looked around the stable. “How did you come to be in possession of such a horse?”
Black Thunder’s sire had been offered up as collateral in a game of cards. A game that had not gone the owner’s way. It was the only time Philip had considered himself lucky. But he was not about to tell Larmont of the tale. “His sire was given to me as payment for a debt.”
Larmont raised his brows but then turned his gaze to the horse. “Impressive, Mr. Jenkins. Very impressive, indeed.”
“If you wish to check his bloodline, he is in the General Stud book, Your Grace.” Philip's chin instinctively rose along with his shoulders. Indeed, Black Thunder was impressive. “Perhaps we should take the rest of this meeting inside to my study?”
The duke did one more circle around Black Thunder and gave a quick nod. “Yes, of course.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Elle placed the slates on the table in front of Katie and Winston. “It is time for your sums, Lady Katie.” She tapped Winston’s slate. “And for you, Latin. Your tutor will arrive next month, and we do not wish him to think you lacking.”
Winston grumbled but pulled his slate closer.
Katie bent her head over her slate and began adding numbers from the paper next to her.
“Lord Culpepper, the word is amica.”
Winston stared at his slate but made no move to write.
Elle repeated the word. “And do not forget to write its translation.” She looked up when she heard no scraping on the slate. “Lord Culpepper, is something the matter?” She had noticed he had been quieter of late. Something was bothering him, but he seemed determined to keep it to himself.
“There is nothing the matter, Miss Carter.” The terseness in his voice brought even Katie’s gaze up.
Elle raised a brow but placed a soft hand on his shoulder. “Very well, then the word is amica.” She tapped the slate again. “And when you are ready to speak of what troubles you, I hope you remember I am here to listen if you wish it.”
He looked up at her, and she thought for a moment that he may talk. But then his eyes flicked to the other children in the room—none of whom he knew well—and he clamped his mouth shut, returning his gaze to his slate.
Elle gave his shoulder a light squeeze before moving over to the window and looking out at the grounds where the cricket match had taken place earlier. The sunshine had given way to dark, threatening clouds, but as of yet, no rain had come. “Navis,” she said over her shoulder.
She sighed when she heard Winston scribble on his slate. Thankfully, the children had settled into their daily routine after the match. It was always difficult to get them to focus after an overly stimulating event.
She tilted her head to the side when her eyes strayed to the tree on the far side of the lane where Mr. Jenkins had tied up his horse.
Mr. Jenkins.
Elle did not know what to think about him. He had seemed every bit the gentleman when they were talking. And the way he had spoken to Sophia was completely unexpected. But then he had played for the workers’ team. Why would a gentleman stoop so low?
It baffled her.
As did the flutter in her stomach when she thought on him. Never, even in the two Seasons she’d had before Papa had died, had she ever had such a reaction to a man.
“Equus,” she called out.
The schoolroom door flew open, and Elle turned from the window. Nurse Jones came hurrying in—at least as much as Nurse Jones could hurry. She was aged and did not move so quickly anymore.
“What is it, Nurse Jones?” Elle moved over to the woman when she saw her distressed expression.
“It is Lady Sophia. She ran off after a butterfly and before I could catch her, she disappeared.” Nurse Jones wrung her fingers, her lip quivering slightly.
Elle placed her hand on the woman’s arm and gave it a soft squeeze. “Stay here with the children and see they continue their studies. I will go find Lady Sophia.” She lay the paper beside Winston’s slate. “Practice writing the words and continue to translate them, please.”
Turning toward the door, she looked back over her shoulder. “Which direction did she go?”
Nurse Jones pointed out the window toward the far side of the cricket pitch. “That way. I lost sight of her at the copse of trees.”
“I will be back shortly.” Elle put an extra lilt in her voice, hoping to ease Nurse Jones’s anxiety.
She hurriedly pulled on her spencer and bonnet, tying the strings as she left out the servants’ door. Her chest tightened, and her stomach twisted. What if she could not find Sophia and they had to ask Lord Ryecombe for help? What would happen to Nurse Jones? What would happen to Elle?
She did not think they would reprimand her for not finding the child, but she could not say the same for Nurse Jones. Elle had overheard Lord and Lady Kirtley discussing whether the nurse was too old to look after Sophia—a notion that had become clearer since Miss Babineaux’s marriage.
Miss Babineaux. Elle’s hands fisted at her side. She knew she should call her Lady Brinton now, but she found herself hard-pressed to do so, and she bit back the irritation that always accompanied those thoughts.
Miss Babineaux had spent a significant amount of time with the children, allowing Nurse Jones to play less of a role, especially with those activities out of doors. But since her marriage that was no longer the case, and Nurse Jones simply did not have the stamina to keep up with such a lively child.
Elle frowned. She liked Nurse Jones. They worked well together and got on tolerably well. Indeed, Elle would miss her if she left.
Hiking up her skirts, Elle quickened her pace. She must do everything in her power to see that Nurse Jones did not go anywhere.
Elle reached a stone wall that obviously marked the end of the Lord Ryecombe’s land. She placed her hand to her eyes and looked at the surrounding landscape. In the distance, she could see the stables and the manor house of the neighboring estate. Could that be where Sophia had gone?
It looked as if a groom was in the paddock, but his attention was on the horse he was tending.
She looked at the wall and frowned. Did she dare cross it? It was not very high. She could cross over it with little trouble. It would be very unladylike, and she would surely be trespassing. But Sophia’s safety justified it, surely.
She lifted her skirt up higher and placed her slippered foot on the rock wall, using one hand to brace herself while she hopped up on top. After straightening and readjusting herself, she jumped onto the ground on the other side.
She dropped her skirts and glanced around to see if anyone had seen her. The groom still seemed intent on the horse, though, from this distance, she could not be certain where he looked. But why should a groom take an interest in her? And more importantly, why should she care?
She glanced back at Briarwood. Being seen from that house seemed more troublesome than a groom she was unacquainted with. But fortunately, no one was within sight.
Running her hands down her front, she straightened her gown and then her shoulders. All was well.
Elle hurried through the field, her pulse picking up when she noticed the crushed ankle-high grass in front of her. The tracks were small and barely discernable, but Elle felt certain Sophia had made them. She glanced back up at the dark skies. If it rained, these tracks would surely be lost. Even so, Elle breathed a little easier. She was certain she was on the right course. She needed only to make haste and she would find Sophia.
Following the crushed grass, Elle moved toward the paddock she had seen from the wall. Only as she drew near did she see the tiny body perched atop the fence rail.
Elle’s breath hitched. What was Sophia doing up so high?
She rushed over and put her hands around the little girl’s waist. “Lady Sophia, what are you doing up there? You could fall and hurt yourself.”
Sophia let out a yelp and squirmed to watch the horse. What was it about these horses that had her so captivated? Their stables at Dovehaven had plenty of fine horses. What drew her to these?
The man in the paddock looked over. It was Mr. Jenkins? What was he doing out in the paddock with the horse? Did he not have a stable master or groom for such things? And why was he allowing a little girl to sit up so high on the fence? What if she fell, and the horse trod over her?
Elle’s heart pounded at the thought.
“Good day, Miss Carter.” Mr. Jenkins smiled. He strode slowly over to them, releasing the lead rope and giving the horse the chance to wander about.
Sophia wiggled and squirmed in Elle’s arms. “I watch the hosee!” she hollered, tears springing to her eyes.
Elle sucked in a breath to calm herself before speaking to the flailing child. “I did not say you could not watch the horse, Lady Sophia. I only want you to do so safely.”
Mr. Jenkins reached the fence and placed his folded arms on top. Seeing her battling with Sophia, he smiled.
Hot anger flared up inside her.
He was the cause of this tantrum, and all he could do was find humor in it? “Just what do you find so humorous, sir? What were you thinking, allowing her to sit so high? What if she had fallen?” The words came out haltingly and much sharper than she had planned.
He leaned back as if her words had physically assaulted him. “She climbed up herself. I thought little about it.”
“Yes, I figured that much out on my own,” Elle snapped at him.
He dropped his arms from the rail and took a step back. “I beg your pardon, Miss Carter. Perhaps it would have been better for me to shoo her away so no one knew her whereabouts. I was trying to be helpful, but I see now, I was not.”
Elle’s cheeks burned. She had allowed her fear for Sophia to make her behave poorly. Her mother had taught her better. She licked her lips. “No, it is I who should be apologizing. I am sorry for snapping at you. You did nothing wrong.”
Mr. Jenkins’s body relaxed slightly. “Perhaps we should start again?” He bowed to her. “Miss Carter, it is a pleasure to see you again.”
Elle smiled and dipped into an awkward curtsy with Sophia still on her hip. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Jenkins.”
He leaned against the railing and draped an arm over the top, staring out at the paddock.
Elle carefully placed Sophia on the top rung, but placed an arm on either side of her, just in case. “Congratulations on your team’s victory this morning.”
Mr. Jenkins grinned. “Thank you. It was a fine day for a cricket match.” His voice trailed off and his smile dropped away. He turned toward her. “How do you know the Duke of Larmont?”
Elle’s head tilted. That was not a turn she had expected the conversation to take. Why was the man interested in the duke? Or rather, her association with him? “He was a friend of my father’s.”
“You are not close, then?” He turned his face away from her.
Elle shrugged. “There was a time when I thought we were. We used to visit his estate in Cheshire when I was a girl, and his family would visit ours in Oxfordshire. But it has been many years since that has happened.”
He did not look at her, keeping his gaze on the horse. “I see.”
What did he see? Because Elle did not see. She did not know what had caused the riff in her family’s relationship with the duke. How had her few words given Mr. Jenkins an understanding Elle, herself, did not have? Was it merely their current situation? She had thought the duke kinder than that. She had thought many people kinder than they actually were.
