The stable masters son, p.5
The Stable Master's Son, page 5
Philip nodded, her words only adding to the weight already pushing down on him. They could not go back to those days. He would not allow it.
“I know you do not want my interference, Son. But things will turn around. You need only have faith.”
Philip pushed out a breath. Ah, his mother and her sermons on faith. Mr. Applebaum, the vicar, could take a note or two from her.
“You are the eternal optimist, Mama.” He moved over to the table and poured out the tea. She was right. The color alone told Philip it was weak in flavor. He sighed as he noticed the absence of the sugar bowl.
“You used to share that trait with me.” She raised her brows. “What happened?”
Philip sighed. “I may just be running out of optimism. It is hard to remain so when you have not a grain of sugar or a tea leaf to your name.”
A slight weight lifted at the admission. It was refreshing to share some of the burden with someone else. It did nothing to relieve the burden, of course, but knowing he did not carry it alone was something.
His mother tsked. “Philip, we’ll survive a few days without sugar and tea. We have done it before. Why should you think we can’t do it again?”
Philip shook his head. “But I had thought those times behind us, Mama. I expected it in the beginning when we were just starting out. But we have been at this for over seven years. The breeding should turn a profit by now.”
“It has been profitable.” She looked around the room before folding her hands in her lap. “And perhaps it should be more so. But no one could have planned for the bad luck we’ve had the last few years. Two colts breaking a leg only weeks into their training? And who would have predicted that Addie Mae would lose her foal just after delivery.” She stared at him. “But things are turning around. You will see.”
He sighed. “That was my hope, too. But I have one of the finest horses in England in my stables, and what good is it doing me?” He ran his hand back through his hair. “I have a stable full of fine horses and it is all for naught if nobody knows of them.”
“Patience, my boy. Your time will come.” She stood and moved toward the door. “You need only figure out a way to make the duke see he needs your horses.” She turned and left him to his weak tea and day-old cakes.
Philip picked up his cup and placed it to his lips.
His mother meant well, but she had no head for business. Philip could not simply wait until fate decided it was his turn. He needed to make his own fate. But currently, he was too frustrated to see how that was possible.
He needed a distraction to help clear his mind. Miss Carter’s handsome face appeared, and he replayed their brief discussion at the paddock.
She had been a pleasant distraction, he would give her that. Not that he would allow himself to think of her as anything more.
He smiled into his cup as he sipped. As far as distractions went, she was a lovely one.
He paused and set his cup back on the tray as a new thought settled in his mind.
Miss Carter.
She might be the key to all this. She had mentioned the duke was friends with her father. And anyone with eyes could see they had chatted amiably before the cricket match. She may not believe them close friends, but Philip had the impression the duke still considered her with some regard.
Could she possibly be the help Philip was looking for? Could she make the duke see what he would miss if he did not buy Black Thunder?
He bit absently at his cake. But how could he see her again? It was not as if the earl would invite Philip over to play a round of battledore.
No, Philip would need to concoct another reason for a trip to Briarwood. But even then, would Miss Carter be about, or would she be in the schoolroom with the children?
A knock sounded at the door, and Philip grunted.
Barnaby, the stable boy, poked his head in the door. His eyes were wide. “Athena is in labor, sir. Your father sent me to fetch you.”
Philip nodded. “Very good. I will change my clothes and come immediately. Please make sure there is fresh hay in the stall.”
“Yes, sir.” Barnaby ducked out of the door.
Philip grunted as he pushed himself to standing. It looked like his plans would have to be put off. At least for now. Athena needed him.
He strode from his study and up to his chamber, choosing breeches and a coat he had kept from his days as a groom in his father’s stable.
He retied his cravat in a simple knot as he hurried from the house, a new excitement pushing his worries away for the moment. If everything went according to plan, this was the first of four racers to be born at Greystone this year. It would be several years before he could train and sell the horses, but when he did? His pulse ticked up at the thought. Perhaps fate would not have to wait so very long.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Philip sat at the kitchen table, breaking off a piece of biscuit and chewing it thoughtfully. Athena had foaled a filly last evening. It was an event that brought hope, but also more worry. There was much that could still go wrong with the young horse, as he could attest.
Add that to the fact he still had not received a note from Larmont, and Philip was nearly bursting.
The duke had not outright declined buying the horse at their meeting, which meant Philip did not feel he could actively pursue finding another buyer. If he sold the horse and the duke came back to purchase Black Thunder, it would surely ruin any chance Philip had of becoming known outside of Somerset. Besides, one did not disappoint a duke and come out of the encounter unscathed.
He sighed and took a sip of his ale. It was only the first day without tea and already he was missing it.
But what was he to do? As the hours ticked on, he felt more and more desperate.
He had decided Miss Carter was to play a role in his plans with Larmont, he just had not figured out how.
Could it be he was focusing too much on Black Thunder when he should come up with a plan to sell the bays to Lord Ryecombe?
He could hitch up the pair and take a ride over to the Earl’s estate. Perhaps then he could at least complete that sale.
From everything Philip had seen of Ryecombe, the man was proud. He might buy the horses on the spot, just so his guests might see the exchange. It was manipulative, and under normal circumstances, such actions would be beneath Philip. But these were not normal circumstances.
Philip smiled and plopped the rest of the biscuit into his mouth. It was the best plan he had come up with so far. It was not great, but it would have to do.
And besides, maybe he would glimpse Miss Carter while he was there. If he did, perhaps she would come speak with him, and Philip could discover if she knew any information about the duke that could help Philip with that sale.
He took another sip. Now he need only think of a reason to visit Briarwood. One did not simply show up for no reason at all.
Brushing off his hands, Philip wiped the crumbs off the table and into his palm, dropping them into the waste bin. “Thank you for breakfast, Mrs. Heaton.”
She shook her head. “It was not much, sir.”
Philip waved her words away. “It was enough to give me the start of an idea. Do not sell your food short. It is very inspiring.”
He pushed the stool under the table. Now, what reason did he have to visit Briarwood? He tapped his thumb against his leg as he thought.
If there was someone else interested in the bays, would it not be polite to inform the earl? But it would be a lie and Philip did not conduct business based on lies. Unless . . . he could find someone to show an interest.
He tilted his head to the side. “Mrs. Heaton, do you have any interest in horses?”
She stared at him as if trying to understand where the shift in their conversation had occurred. “I suppose I am as interested as anybody.”
Philip smiled. “Oh? And what of the bays? Are you interested in them?”
She shrugged. “I can’t say as I have seen much of them.”
Philip led her over to the window and pointed to the south paddock. “There they are. Are they not two of the most beautiful creatures?”
Mrs. Heaton leaned forward and squinted. “They seem to be, sir.”
“Now that you have seen them, would you say you are more interested?”
She shrugged but eyed him as if he might be one step away from Bedlam. “I suppose so.”
He patted her on the arm. “That is all I needed to hear. Thank you.” He strode out of the kitchen, intent on currying the bays before he set off for Briarwood. He would see that they looked their finest.
If everything worked out as he hoped, he might just have to walk home and fetch another pair of horses to bring home his curricle. But he would not mind in the least. Not if it meant he had made the sale.
The bays’ coats gleamed in the sunlight as Philip secured them to the curricle. The conveyance itself was not much to look at, something Philip regretted. The bays would surely look better attached to a finer carriage, but that was beyond Philip’s control. If he could not afford tea leaves, he certainly could not afford a newer carriage. But it was not the carriage he was trying to sell, and he would do well to keep that in mind.
He led the horses out of the carriage house and climbed into the driver’s seat. His stomach hitched up into his throat. It was not the best-formed plan, but it was all he had.
The wealthy did not understand the plight of the working man. He did not have the luxury of waiting around for the elite to make up their minds. If the earl did not wish to buy these horses, perhaps Philip would at least have leave to sell them to someone else.
It did not solve his problem with the duke, but it would move him in the right direction financially. Then he might at least be able to afford some tea and supplies to mend a few of the tenant cottages.
He flicked the reins, and the horses set out.
If nothing else, this recent downturn in funds had made Philip see the importance of diversifying the estate more. He had spent too much time and money focused solely on the horses, when he should have been doing more to bring the estate up to a higher standard. That included fixing the tenant cottages and finding renters for them. He could see now that rent needed to become a priority.
He guided the horses down the lane. It would be faster to walk to Briarwood along the back path. Indeed, Philip could have done that and still had a conversation with the earl. But would the conversation not have more impact and meaning if the horses in question were there for Ryecombe to see and touch?
Philip knew he was using the bays—and the house party—to push the man into a decision. He should feel guilty about such actions, but Ryecombe had said he was interested in the horses months ago. When was he to make good on his word?
Philip obviously had to force the man’s hand. And if that meant appealing to his vanity and sense of superiority, then so be it.
Philip turned onto the lane leading to Briarwood as a brisk wind gusted, nearly taking his cap with it. He had taken his time in currying the animals, thus ensuring he did not arrive too early for propriety.
As Philip approached the house, he saw a group of people on the lawn where the cricket pitch had been the day before. They had set up several lawn games. Some people were playing battledore on teams of three or four, the gusts blowing the shuttlecock way off course, while others played pall-mall on the other side of the lawn.
Philip breathed in deeply. This was better than he could have hoped. How could the earl not buy the horses with everyone outside watching? But he had better make haste before the weather drove everyone back inside.
He guided the curricle around and stopped it at the side of the lawn. He looked out over the people, hoping to spot the earl among the players. Sure enough, he was there playing battledore. It looked as though Larmont was playing as well. Perhaps this was a better plan than Philip had realized.
He hopped down and tied the reins to a nearby post. Striding over, he stood on the side, waiting until there was a break in the action.
Philip’s brows rose. The earl was skilled at Battledore, something Philip would not have guessed. The man was rather portly and had not moved with such ease in the cricket match. Although, Philip noted, the earl did keep the shuttlecock longer than was proper. It should not surprise him the man seemed hesitant to share.
After bouncing the bird into the air nearly a dozen times, the earl finally tossed it high in another direction and several ladies ran after it, their heads tilted back and their eyes following the shuttlecock. The wind picked it up and carried it far behind them. It was an accident waiting to happen. But that was none of Philip’s concern.
Ryecombe looked over and saw Philip watching the game. The earl gave one last look at the shuttlecock and then strode over. “Jenkins. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” His voice held no pleasure and Philip was confident it had nothing to do with the discolored split of his lip.
Philip motioned with his head to his curricle. “Someone is interested in the bays, my lord. But you expressed an interest in them first. I thought it only proper to offer them to you before selling them to another.” Philip’s collar felt tight, and he had the urge to pull it away from his skin. It was not an outright lie, so why did he feel so uncomfortable? Manipulation was not the way he liked to do business.
The earl scrunched up his face and flicked his gaze to the mares on the lane. “They are a fine-looking pair.” He pushed his lips out and grunted before putting a finger to his injury. “They would be for my wife. Perhaps I should leave the decision up to her. I will bring her around to look at them soon.”
Philip sucked in a quiet, albeit deep breath. He was now using his wife as an excuse not to buy the horses? Why could the man not make a simple decision? Was the price the problem? Perhaps if Philip asked for less, the earl would make a decision.
He opened his mouth just as the front door opened with a whoop, and Philip looked over his shoulder at the house. A child streaked down the stairs, running toward the horses.
Miss Carter was not far behind, her skirts held up as she scampered down the stairs, calling after the child. “Lady Sophia. Please, stop. They do not know you, dearest.”
Philip grinned, deciding that if, for no other reason, seeing Miss Carter run after the child made his plan worth it.
And he loved seeing how much Lady Sophia loved his horses. Normally he would jog over and intercede, but those two mares were the most docile animals he had ever encountered—which is what made them perfect for a lady’s curricle. Lady Sophia would be perfectly safe with them, regardless of the ruckus she was making. There would be no surprising them with her approach.
A man Philip did not know but recognized from the cricket match stepped up behind Ryecombe. “I could not help overhearing your conversation. You are looking for a matched pair? I should wonder at your delay in deciding, Ryecombe. They are some of the finest horses I’ve seen. Even better than Tattersalls, of late.”
Philip puffed up slightly. He may not know the man, but he was inclined to like him if he could see the worth of the bays.
“And my daughter seems quite taken with the animals. Perhaps if you don’t purchase them, I shall.”
The girl was this man’s daughter? That would make him Lord Kirtley, and likely the one who employed Miss Carter as nurse to his children. She may prove influential with more than just the duke.
The earl blustered.
Could it be there was truly another interested party? Someone besides Mrs. Heaton? He licked his lips and looked between the two men. Both of them turned their gazes to the horses.
Philip followed suit, not at all disappointed that he had an excuse to watch Miss Carter and Lady Sophia.
Miss Carter held Lady Sophia on her hip as she held the child’s hand and ran it down one of the horse’s noses.
“Do you not have horses, my lord?” Philip asked. It was curious that a child who had horses at home should be so interested in Philip’s.
“Indeed, we do. She loves them, but I have never seen her act in such a way.” The stranger turned his eyes on Philip. “There must be something special about your horses, sir.”
Philip smiled. He thought that whenever a new addition was foaled. It was time someone else realized it. “Yes, my lord. I have always thought as much.”
The earl cleared his throat. “If you are through trying to buy my horses out from under me, Kirtley . . .” The older man narrowed his eyes at Philip. “I dislike discussing business in front of my guests. I shall come along and we can meet when the house party is over.”
Philip clutched his hands at his side. This is what he had been doing for the last two months. Why could the man not commit? “I understand, my lord. And I hate to put you in this position. But I am afraid I need an answer. If you do not wish to purchase them, I should like to sell them to the other interested party.”
Lord Kirtley took a step forward. “I should like a chance at them before you sell to someone else.”
The action was enough to spur the earl into action. “You said it would be one hundred pounds for the pair?”
Philip bit back the terse reply. The earl knew very well that was not the cost. They had discussed it on at least two other occasions. Philip cleared his throat. “No, sir. It was one hundred and seventy-five pounds for the pair, but—”
The earl blustered. “I am certain that is higher than when last we spoke. Are you trying to cheat me, Jenkins?”
Philip’s face burned as he glanced around at the faces of those pretending to still play the lawn games but were intently listening to the conversation. Would everyone think Philip a cheat? Such accusations could not be good for his reputation. “Of course not, my lord.”
He looked over at Miss Carter. Had she heard? For reasons he could not understand nor think on at present, that notion bothered Philip more than any other.
Lord Kirtley placed a hand on the earl’s shoulder. “Surely you can see those horses are worth at least two hundred. Look how docile they are. My daughter is handling them with no problems. It is difficult to find a horse like that, let alone a pair. They would be perfect for my wife’s curricle.” Lord Kirtley put a finger to his lips. “I will give you two hundred pounds for the pair.”
