by Donna Hatch
“I suppose not,” Emily said quietly. Her hands slid from the bars, but she made no further move to go. “I imagine it comes from the pace of life in London. He quite likes it there and has numerous tales of his adventures.”
Instead of sounding impressed or excited, she sounded melancholy.
“This concerns you?” Eli said quietly. He left the wall and walked carefully around Fortune to stand on the opposite side of the stall gate, facing Emily through the bars. A fitting metaphor. Just as in life, he was separated from her, perpetually on the wrong side.
She shrugged. “I am not certain the earl and I suit, but Father wants this match. He feared I’d become an old maid, so now to have Lord Rowley express interest...”
“An old maid?” Eli scoffed. “You are all of—twenty-two.” He pretended his uncertainty, though there was none. He was more than aware of her age, having noted her birthday each year for many years now.
“My coming out was five years ago. I am definitely an old maid—and quite content with my lot.”
“Content is good.” Eli chose his words carefully, wanting very much to lift her spirits. “But what if there is something beyond that waiting for you? What if marriage will bring you a happiness you’ve not yet known, or even imagined?”
Emily lifted her face so their eyes met. “I do not think that is possible with the earl. I do not doubt he is a good man, but I fear I will not be able to keep pace with him. London society and I did not complement each other, and it seems Lord Rowley is all for returning to London as soon as possible, both to be nearer his mother and because he is most comfortable in the city.”
That was all true. Sherborne had found little to satisfy his interest the two summers he’d spent at Collingwood, so after his thirteenth year, he had not been required to return. Instead, his family had moved their primary residence to London. Only the late earl had returned here somewhat frequently, and only Eli knew the reason he had.
“Perhaps London will surprise you the next time,” he said, wondering at his encouragement of this match. But Emily loved her parents, particularly her father, and when it came down to the question of whether or not she would marry Sherborne, Eli felt little doubt that she would agree, for the sake of pleasing them. “The theater is splendid—I’ve heard. And Hyde Park is a pleasant place to ride. I am certain the earl would not object to Fortune accompanying you to London.” No doubt Sherborne would be grateful to add Fortune and her foal to his possessions, his own stock having been depleted rather severely over the past few years.
“Thank you, Mr. Linfield. I appreciate your kindness. Thank you for taking the time to listen to the concerns of a silly girl.”
“You are not a silly girl.” He started to raise his hand, as if to reach through the bars and touch her, but remembered himself in time.
Emily appeared not to have noticed as she stepped back, her gaze on the stable entrance once more. “I believe I just saw the earl’s carriage pass. I had best go.”
Don’t. Don’t marry him. There is another option. Eli nodded, his throat thick with the words he could never say.
She turned from him and began walking toward the doors, a ray of afternoon sun guiding her way and shining upon her as if she was an angel descended from Heaven itself.
Eli pressed a hand to his heart, as if doing so might somehow keep it from breaking. All these years it had belonged to Emily, and she would never know.
She stopped suddenly, turning within that shaft of light to face him once more.
“Truly you shall be missed, Mr. Linfield. More than you may know. Father says you’re the best worker he’s ever had.”
Eli forced a smile and gave a curt nod as she once more turned away and retreated down the wide walkway between the stalls.
The best worker, but not nearly good enough for his daughter.
Chapter Five
Fortune’s bandaged tail switched with agitation as the mare struggled to her feet once more.
“Easy, girl,” Eli said in hushed tones. In the low lantern light, he watched Fortune carefully for signs of stress as she labored. “It shouldn’t be long now.” It had better not be. He was prepared—arm scrubbed, sleeve rolled up to nearly his shoulder—to help her if need be, but pulling a foal from within a mare was not his preference. It was always better when nature worked as it should and the mother took care of things herself.
A door creaked behind him, startling both Eli and the mare, who tossed her head and whinnied pitifully. Eli glanced over his shoulder, then gave a start himself at the white figure moving toward them.
“Is she delivered yet?” Miss Montgomery held a lantern in her hand, its light reflecting against her long, white dressing gown, making her appear even more angelic than she had earlier.
Eli shook his head and brought a finger to his lips. “Put out your lantern,” he whispered.
She obeyed and slowed her steps toward them.
Another contraction seized Fortune, and Eli’s attention was all for the mare, particularly her straining hind quarters. She was tiring quickly. It had been almost thirty minutes of hard labor. She needed to birth the foal soon, else they both would be in danger.
“Is she all right?” Miss Montgomery stood at the gate again, much as she had earlier. “I couldn’t sleep, for thinking of Fortune and her baby. Shouldn’t he be here by now?”
“Soon,” Eli whispered. “We must be very careful not to spook her. She’d prefer to be alone, though I’ve need to watch her in case.”
“In case?” Miss Montgomery worried her lip, momentarily distracting Eli.
“Sometimes a foal is not in the correct position and needs help to be born.” He waited, then watched as another pain gripped Fortune. Something’s not right. She was pushing, but no forelegs had appeared.
“You shouldn’t be here, Miss Montgomery.” Carefully he moved nearer the laboring horse.
“Please,” her voice wavered. “I can see she’s in terrible pain. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“She’ll be all right,” Eli said, as much to comfort the horse as to reassure its owner. “Run along to bed, and you can come see the new foal in the morning.”
“You speak to me as if I’m a child.” Miss Montgomery’s voice rose slightly, and the mare nickered her complaint.
“Sorry,” she whispered, sounding contrite. “Please, let me stay.”
Eli shook his head. “It’s not proper. You’re not even dressed, and what if you faint? I’d not be able to care for both you and your horse. Birthing is a bloody mess.” He was in position now, awaiting Fortune’s next contraction.
“You’ve no need to worry over me,” Miss Montgomery said. “I’ve a strong constitution. No one need find out I’ve been here, and no matter if they did. You are leaving by the week’s end, your new position already secured. And just today the earl offered for me. We are each secure in our futures, regardless of anything that might happen tonight.”
Anything that might happen. Eli did not like the sound of that or what it so readily conjured in his mind. Nor did he miss the tone of Miss Montgomery’s voice. She did not sound like a woman who had just been proposed to ought—happy and giddy, or at least pleased.
But he had no more thought for Miss Montgomery, or what was proper, as Fortune’s body convulsed with another pain. With tender care, Eli pushed his hand inside the birth canal, reaching for her foal. He found one leg easily. It was right there, ready to make its escape from the womb. But the other he could not locate and spent several frantic seconds searching for it, while his other hand held Fortune’s bound and twitching tail out of the way.
Where are you? Come on! Fortune’s contraction ended, and Eli still hadn’t located the foal’s other foreleg.
He withdrew his hand and used his other to swipe at the sweat dripping into his eyes.
“Try again. You can do this.” Miss Montgomery had entered the stall and stood beside him. She took Fortune’s tail and moved it out of his way, standing on
tip toe to keep it from his face.
“Thank you.” Eli worked his hand inside once more, as gently as possible, and began his search again, higher this time. He felt the foal’s nose, then an ear and then—hoof! He grabbed it and pulled, lowering the limb over the foal’s face, then forward until it was parallel with the other. He hooked his hand over both and tugged, just a little, then withdrew and stepped back quickly as Fortune and nature took care of the rest.
“Oh!” Emily exclaimed softly as she watched the foal appear between them.
Eli knelt to catch it, helping it safely to the waiting bed of straw.
“Let go of her tail now,” Eli instructed, and Emily, as if just realizing her hand was still aloft, released Fortune’s tail and moved back into the far corner of the stall.
The mare turned, so her head was nearer her baby, then lay down beside the awkward bundle struggling to free itself entirely from the sac.
“Good girl,” Eli whispered affectionately as he rose and backed into the corner opposite Miss Montgomery.
“Are you talking to me or Fortune?”
“Both.” Eli grinned, feeling extraordinarily happy, overcome once more with the miracle of life. He glanced over at Miss Montgomery, realizing she was on the wrong side of the mare—effectively trapped until Fortune either decided to get up or change positions again.
“Are you all right?” he asked with concern, guessing that most well-bred young ladies would never experience something so raw as a horse birthing.
“I am wonderful.” She returned his smile, and their eyes met over mother and baby, hers moist and shining. “That was—astounding. Beautiful.”
You are beautiful. “It is the same every time. I am glad you were able to experience it.”
“As am I. Thank you, Mr. Linfield.”
“Eli,” he corrected, meeting her gaze once more. He’d be gone in a few days. There seemed no harm in being more personable until then, or tonight at least, when they’d just been bystanders, if not complete participants, in one of the most intimate acts of life.
“Thank you, Eli,” she said, smiling warmly.
“You’re most welcome—Emily.”
She might have blushed at his forwardness, but he couldn’t be certain, as her face was partly in shadow. In either case, he looked away, somewhat abashed at his own behavior. He’d taken Sherborne to task for speaking of her casually. Yet here I am, calling her by name as we’re alone, in the dead of night, and her not even dressed properly. Eli realized it was a very good thing he was leaving soon. He wasn’t quite sure he’d ever be the same after tonight.
Forcing his attention back to Fortune and her new colt, he began carefully pulling the dirty straw back and replacing it with clean. After several minutes, Fortune, who appeared to have been taking a well-deserved nap, stood, severing the umbilical cord at the same time the afterbirth was delivered.
As she began cleaning her colt, Eli maneuvered around her to gather the rest of the mess. He made his way to the side, glanced at Emily once more, and noted all signs of her blushing had gone. Her face had turned a ghostly white, and she held one hand to her stomach.
“Miss Montgomery, are you we—”
She went down, falling almost gracefully into the straw. Eli jumped over the back of the colt, muttering an apology as Fortune nipped at him.
“Miss Montgomery.” He lifted her head, checking for injury, finding none, and thanking the heavens he’d spread the straw extra deep.
Not so immune after all. He might tease her about this later—or he would have if he was going to be around longer than the end of the week.
Emily’s breathing was even, so he laid her out comfortably, there not being much else he could do. Smelling salts weren’t to be found in the stable, and he didn’t think she would want him to alert someone at the house.
He knelt beside her, waiting for her to come to. Speaking each other’s names had seemed intimate, but this seemed even more so. He’d never been this close to her before and took the opportunity to touch her cheek once again.
Her skin was as soft as he’d imagined, as was her hair. He touched that next, with the excuse to himself that he ought to lay it over her shoulder to keep the straw from it as much as possible. Emily’s lashes were long and still, dark in contrast to her pale skin. Yet she didn’t appear fragile, but simply serene. She might have fainted at the last, but she’d witnessed the birth and found wonder in it instead of being repulsed.
The stable door squeaked for the second time that night. Instead of jumping to his feet, Eli froze, tension flooding his body at the sound of voices. The higher, female one he recognized at once.
Lady Grayson. She’d been in here a time or two before with various companions. Once, Eli had avoided being seen. The second time he had discreetly looked away and said not a word about it. She was a young widow. He would not fault her. No doubt loneliness and missing her husband had driven her to such behavior. Regardless, it was not his to judge. With any luck, she and her companion would not be here long, and no one would be any the wiser of his—or Emily’s—presence.
“The stable? Really, Lady Grayson, you surprise me. I would think a tussle in the hay far below your standards.”
Sherborne! Eli’s fists clenched.
Sherborne’s words were slightly slurred, as if he was foxed.
“Oh, don’t be such a bore,” Lady Grayson said. “I’m only speaking of a midnight ride to the pond. It’s so refreshing to swim after a hot day like today.”
“As refreshing as it sounds, I have just this day offered for your sister. I do not think—”
“Precisely,” Lady Grayson said. “Don’t think. Just feel. Soon enough you’ll be a tenant for life, and I promise Emily will never be one for doing anything adventurous at midnight.”
How little you know. Eli glanced at Emily, her dressing gown spread out around her, except for the one slightly bunched corner revealing an ankle. He quickly pulled it down.
“I do feel—you are a tempting armful.” Sloppy kissing sounds followed Sherborne’s equally sloppy sentence.
How dare he. If not for Emily’s presence, Eli would have put an immediate end to all Sherborne was feeling.
“Lady Grayson—perhaps—we ought not—there is your father to consider,” Sherborne managed.
Her father? What about Emily? Foxed or not, Sherborne had no excuse for such deplorable behavior.
Emily’s head moved slightly. She was still unaware of the drama around her, but probably not for much longer.
Eli gathered handfuls of the straw and tossed it over Emily, covering all but her nose and mouth. Then, grabbing the pitchfork, he stood and cleared his throat loudly, unwilling and unable to let Sherborne dally with his future wife’s sister.
“Quiet, if you please,” Eli said, his back to the front of the stable and their voices. “Miss Montgomery’s horse has just given birth and should not be disturbed.”
“Oooh. I want to see.”
Eli cringed, cursing silently. He ought to have realized his warning would have the opposite effect on the curious Lady Grayson.
“It’s not safe yet,” he called, his voice rising oddly as the straw at his feet shifted. “It was a difficult birth, and Fortune is not yet herself.”
“Just a small peek.” Lady Grayson’s voice grew closer.
“Need to clean up the afterbirth. No place for a lady,” Eli said as Emily’s hand emerged from the straw.
“You heard the man,” Sherborne said, his voice deeper as if he was attempting to disguise it. “Let’s be off now.”
Yes. Be off. The straw shifted once more, this time accompanied by a low moan.
“Is everything all right?” Lady Grayson called.
“It is now,” Eli replied. “Colt had a bit of a hard time. One of its legs was trapped. Fortune will take care of him, though. You can see them tomorrow.”
The stable door hinges squeaked a third time, followed by a loud gasp and the door slamming shut. Had She
rborne left? If Lady Grayson alone discovered Emily, her presence might be explained away. Lady Grayson, of all people, should know better than to cast judgment.
Eli’s hope was short-lived as both Lady Grayson’s and Sherborne’s heads appeared outside the stall.
“Oh, look at—” Lady Grayson stopped midsentence, her mouth open, even as Sherborne’s pressed into a serious line.
Eli glanced behind him as Emily sat up, straw falling away, one hand held to her head. She glanced at her legs, still buried in straw, then up at him, her brow wrinkled with confusion.
“What on earth—Eli?”
Chapter Six
“Emily? Eli?” Sophia’s voice and the earl’s echoed over one another in the cavernous stable.
Still feeling dazed, Emily looked to Mr. Linfield for some sort of explanation. Eli, he had asked her to call him, and she had been happy to do so, having tried out his name in her mind dozens of times before.
“Let me help you,” he said, reaching a hand down, pulling her from the straw. His other hand went to her arm, steadying her until she caught her balance. “You fainted,” he explained. “And then—”
“What is the meaning of this, Eli? What are you doing here with my fiancée?” Mottled with anger, Lord Rowley’s face appeared outside the stall gate.
“Seeing to her horse’s well-being, as I’ve already explained,” Mr. Linfield responded with a calm that belied the situation. He released Emily and stepped away. “What are you doing here, with Miss Montgomery’s sister?”
“Don’t take that tone with me.” The earl opened the gate and stepped into the stall. “Not when—”
“Sherborne, please.” Sophia put a hand on the earl’s arm. “We mustn’t disturb—oh—ooh.” Her hand flew to her mouth, and she backed up, away from Fortune and the palpable effects of birth.
Emily glanced down at her mare, careful to keep her own eyes averted from anything other than her horse’s face. The birth had all been so perfect, so completely amazing, until the last. She remembered feeling ill, and then the next thing she knew she’d awoken covered in straw. Perhaps Eli had covered her because he believed she was cold?