The Trouble with Saving a Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Emma Linfield

  “Back to it,” he made sure to have a cheer in his voice as he stuck the fork into the pile of wet hay. He was well aware that he was not skilled at this menial work, he grew ever wearier as he felt her stare at him from behind. After three loads of hay had strenuously made their way into the wheelbarrow, he turned.

  Sure enough, there she was. She’d pushed her straw hat up enough to where he could see her smirking as she stood.

  “Has George made you my keeper for the day?” He was only half joking for he felt rather self-conscious about his lack of stamina.

  “He has not. Although perhaps he ought. You have clearly never shoveled a stall in your entire life, Oliver Excalibur.” She grinned at him.

  “I would not know, Seraphina. However, I suspect you are right.”

  She shook her head. “I could have told you that you were no stable hand when I first laid eyes on you, but I did not wish to discourage you. Now,” she rubbed her hands together and pulled the straw hat down onto her face. “Let me show you.”

  She stepped toward him and took the pitchfork from him with one hand while removing the hat with the other, hanging it on a hook on the wall.

  Before he could protest, she’d sunk it into the wet hay and was shoveling so rapidly and with such strength, that he understood that this was a regular activity for her. She bit her bottom lip as she worked, causing it to flush red once she released it. He noticed how lovely and pert her lips were and how delicate her nose was, which turned upward slightly like a slope.

  He broke into a smile, totally forgetting to offer his assistance. He found himself charmed at seeing her with such concertation, doing something that was so far from an activity considered appropriate for a lady.

  “I thought you said you do not enjoy shoveling and prefer to be with the horses.”

  Without stopping or looking at him, she replied. “I will pick up a pitchfork when needed. The horses do need a clean stall after all. I much prefer cleaning hooves and brushing them, of course.”

  She was finished with the box in not even a third of the time it had taken him and then moved on to the next. Before she got started, she turned and pointed behind hm.

  “Now you’ve had your rest, mind giving me a hand? There is another.”

  He spotted the pitchfork, leaning against the wall and picked it up.

  “What did you mean when you said you knew I was no stable hand when you first saw me? Do I look like a weakling who cannot do physical work?”

  He began shoveling with as much vigor as he could muster, given that the activity still smarted his left side where the injury was.

  “Have you made use of the looking glass in Cynthia’s chamber, where you were when you were healing from your injuries?”

  He nodded as he worked.

  “Well, then you know what I mean. You have not the coloring for someone who works on the fields or out on the paddock. You have the coloring of an indoor merchant.”

  “Is that what you think I am, a merchant?”

  She shrugged. “I am truly not certain. Perhaps you are a merchant, or a vicar. You may be a military man! It could be anything.”

  He was silent and considered her words. She was right. He could be anyone, or anything.

  “Indeed, anything at all.” The thought lingered in his mind, occupying him entirely and they fell into silence. He thought back to his strange dream, the one with the young girl. He glanced at Seraphina, feeling the urge to tell her of his dream, and of the strange flash that had caused him to break the jug. He decided against it.

  I do not wish to lead her to believe my memories are returning, for they may not be. They may be nothing but wishful thinking.

  They finished the box quickly without speaking, but the silence between them was easy. Her mere presence made him feel at peace. When they were done cleaning, they put the fresh bedding down for the horses who were soon to return from their morning time on the paddock.

  “I thank you, for your help,” he said as he took the pitchfork from her.

  “No need to thank me. That is what friends are for, after all,” she grinned at him and he was taken aback but how fresh and beautiful she still looked. While he was drenched in sweat, and his white shirt stained, she looked as perfect and pristine as she had the day before. A few hairs had come out of the bun they’d been contained in. A tiny speck of dirt had found its way onto her pale cheek. Otherwise she was untouched by the strenuous work.

  “Well, it was kind of you, Friend. Perhaps next you could show me how to properly clean a horse’s hoof?”

  “Of course. But first, I have a surprise.”

  “A surprise?” he turned to look at her while hanging up the second pitchfork. Distracted, he missed the hook and the pitchfork slid down onto the stone ground with a clang.

  “Darn it,” he cursed and bent down to lift it. As he stood, he felt a sudden rush to the head and the world around him spun. His legs no longer followed his command to stay upright and he tumbled, dropping the tool once more.

  “Seraphina, I feel…faint. I…” he reached forward, his hands desperately grasping for anything he could hold on to but failing to make contact.

  “Oliver!” Her voice was full of panic. She rushed toward him, her hands reaching for his.

  Quickly, the world grew ever more out of focus and Oliver felt the light fading. The last thing he felt before slipping into darkness were her soft hands as they clasped his arm, but it was too late. He hit the ground, pain shooting through his injured side. Then, there was nothing.

  Chapter 10

  She rushed outside into the stable yard and spotted George returning with one of the horses, Maisely, trotting behind him on a rope.

  “George!” She rushed to him and the relaxed expression on his face faded to concern.

  “Dinnae flap, lassie. What’s wrong then?”

  She knew that she should not let a servant call her by such terms of affection, but she’d known George since she was a mere child. She considered him more than a servant. Not quite family, but a trusted friend. She knew well that her working in the barn, and him allowing it and even covering for her, could cost him his position if her father ever found out.

  “It is Oliver. He has fainted. Please, come and help!”

  Suddenly, she realized that she was not wearing her straw hat and her face, her person was exposed to any of the stable staff. Wearing a disguise had been a request of George’s that she’d always honored. She glanced around in a panic but found herself relieved at the lack of servants around.

  “Come, quickly,” George said and hastened toward the open barn door with the horse behind him. Seraphina rushed ahead, making sure she was out of sight.

  To her terror, Oliver still lay on the ground. His position hadn’t changed. He was utterly still.

  “Take her back to her stall. The one on the left, past the sick box,” George handed her the rope of the horse.

  “Will he be okay? Faith, George. I pushed him too much,” panic rose in her voice as she was consumed by fear. What if he didn’t wake up this time?

  “Keep yer heid, lassie,” George didn’t look at her and instead knelt beside Oliver. “Water. He needs a splash of water.” He rose and walked to where the jug had been. Stemming his hands into his hips he looked around at Seraphina who’d just returned Maisely to her stall.

  “It broke,” she confessed, causing George to sigh. “I’ll fetch water from the well,” she offered but he grunted and shook his head.

  “Cummoan, and have the stable boys see ye? Naw. Stay here, I’ll go.”

  He got up and hasted outside while she sat beside Oliver.

  “Please wake up. I am sorry I teased you so. You should not have exerted yourself in such a manner.” She stroked his sweat-drenched hair out of his face as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Please, Oliver. Or whatever your name. I had such fun with you, I all but forgot you were just recently injured. I am sorry.”

  His hand shot up and clasped hers then, a
nd his eyelids flickered open.

  “Oliver!” She exclaimed. “George, he is waking,” she hollered.

  The old Scotsman came rushing back, a rag drenched in water in his hand. When he looked down upon the waking man, he grunted and handed the rag to Seraphina.

  “On his forehead will do.”

  She nodded and placed it gently on his head while his eyes finally opened, and he appeared to see her.

  “The angel at my bedside,” he mumbled, and she blushed as the words registered in her mind. She stole a quick glance at George, concerned he’d heard. He had. He rolled his eyes at her and then shook his head.

  “I’ll leave ye to it, Lady Seraphina.” He used the proper salutation and bowed, closing the barn door slightly as he left so they would remain undisturbed.

  “Oliver? Can you hear me?”

  He blinked at her and it was as though a fog was lifting from his mind.

  “Sera? What has happened? I…” he reached up to feel the wet cloth on his head but instead placed his hand on hers quite by accident. To her surprise, he left it there for a moment too long and squeezed her hand gently before removing it.

  Then, he slowly pushed himself up.

  “Careful, you don’t want to make yourself ill again.”

  He nodded. “I will not. See? I shall sit here until I gather my wits about me again. Well. Some of them at least.”

  She tilted her head and remained seated. “What happened?”

  He shrugged. “I supposed I got up too quickly and then the world just spun.”

  “I think it was a lot of work, considering you’ve only just recovered. Well, not even fully yet. Did you not eat enough at breakfast?”

  He frowned at her. “Breakfast? I was not aware there was a breakfast being served.”

  “Heavens forewent, yes! The house maids and the servants in the Castle eat after we do, much later in the day, but the stable staff are served a breakfast in the common room, over there.” She pointed at a little house just beyond the stable. “George should have told you.” She glared in the direction the groom had gone but did not see him. “Have you not eaten at all then since supper?”

  He shrugged as she shook her head.

  “That won’t do. In the morrow, please be certain to go to the common hall. A maid brings a breakfast each morning. For now,” she pinched her lips together, not wanting to tell him the surprise she’d brought but feeling she had no choice. “Can you walk? It isn’t far. Just in the saddle room.”

  He nodded and allowed her to help him up. She took a hold of his arm and as she did, she felt the lean muscle beneath his loose, white shirt.

  Certainly not the arms of a vicar.

  He pulled his arm away from her gently. “I can walk. Do not fret too much. The saddle room, you said?”

  She nodded, hoping he could make it there without trouble. Truth be told, he was already looking much better; the color had returned to his face and he appeared steady on his feet.

  Perhaps it is only the lack of food that has made him faint. I certainly hope it is nothing more serious.

  “Please, take a seat,” she pointed to the bales of hay in the room and he sat as instructed while she retrieved her satchel.

  She’d stashed a small satchel in there earlier in the morning, intending to find a quiet moment to share the contents with her new friend. Now, she carried it back with her and sat on the bale of hay beside him.

  Untying the knot, the white muslin cloth came open, revealing her treasures.

  “It isn’t much, but I wanted to give you something that would make the beginning of your new life easier. I suppose first…” she took ahold of an item that she’d carefully wrapped once more and handed it to him.

  She watched as his long, slim fingers undid the tie, revealing a freshly baked loaf of honey bread she’d commissioned from the cook.

  “According to George, the honey bread is the only reason he allows me to sneak into the stable yard to work with the horses.” She grinned and picked up another package much like the first.

  “This is his. His bribe for the week.” Noticing the way he stared at the bread, the way a wolf might look at a stray stag, she chuckled and handed him a small container. “Elderberry jam. The very best.”

  “You truly are a miracle, My Lady,” he did not look at her when he said this, but instead broke a large piece of bread off the loaf, taking a large bite which he chewed with his eyes closed.

  A rush of joy flooded through her, for the look of contentment on his visage made her more than happy. Suddenly she found herself reminded of the term he’d called her while waking from his brief stupor. ‘Bedside angel.’ Her heart swelled as she remembered it.

  “You have a lovely smile,” his voice broke into her thoughts.

  “Thank you, you are very kind.” Feeling her face turn red, Seraphina avoided eye contact and instead pushed the contents of the satchel toward him. “It isn’t much. I procured a change of clothes for you, as I am sure you must need one. Also, a comb, and two beeswax candles. They are brighter than the tallow candles Papa provides for the staff. I have found some writing paper, ink, and a feather. The physician said that sometimes writing down one’s thoughts helps to unearth memories.”

  She grew quiet then, afraid she’d overstepped. She liked him. Liked him a lot. And she was certain he felt the same. Yet, she had to remind herself that she was a lady of the ton and her father one of the best-known dukes in the Realm. And he? Well, for now he was a stable boy and she would do well not to encourage inappropriate relations between them. It would not end well.

  And yet, she could not help herself.

  He hasn’t a soul in the world he can call friend or family. Someone must be there for him. And I feel it should be me. Indeed, I am certain.

  He sat the bread down, having already wolfed down more than half, and inspected the pile. The corners of his mouth twitched and she saw the glimmer of impending tears springing into his eyes. He wiped his eyes gruffly with the sleeve of his dirty shirt and blinked before looking up at her.

  “I am truly ever so grateful. This is…wonderful. I have nothing. Not a past, nor a future. Only the present, and even that is void of so much. But not of kindness. Thanks to you.”

  Their eyes locked then and they gazed at one another. It was as though they were under a spell. From the corner of her eyes she saw his hand rise toward her face, and she was certain he would touch her. She braced herself for the tenderness the gesture promised when—

  “It ain’t here, Calvin. I will check again, but I’m telling you…By Jove! You darn near gave me a heart attack.”

  A young boy appeared in the room. Seraphina recognized him at once. Thomas, the son of the under butler, Mr. Procter, who’d recently begun his employment at Oxshire. As quickly as she could, she took her straw hat and placed it back on her head.

  “What’s all this then? What are you lads up to? Don’t let ole George catch you in here, he’ll—”

  “He’ll what, ye louse? Dunnae assume to speak for me. Skaddadle aff, before I put me boot up yer hiney.”

  The young boy rushed out of the saddle room and down the cobbled walkway while George looked from one to the other.

  “My Lady,” he shook his head. “It is mid-morning and Her Grace has sent for the carriage.”

  Seraphina gasped and jumped up. Her mother had intended to take Seraphina, Mary, and Cynthia into town to purchase new gowns for the upcoming ball. She’d forgotten all about it.

  “I must go,” she looked at Oliver who still sat with the package of gifts on the hay. “I…” she turned her gaze to George who looked at her with his eyebrows raised, clearly uncomfortable with the entire situation.

  “I am sorry, Oliver but I…”

  “No need to be sorry, Lady Seraphina. It was kind of you to think of me and bring me these supplies from your family. Please thank His Grace, the Duke, for his kind thoughts.”

  Relieved that he’d been quicker to think up an explanati
on for the situation than her, she simply nodded.

  “I shall. George, I suppose there is no way that the carriage could be delayed a little? Just so I may return in time and change?” She motioned to the clothes she wore, and the old man grunted.

  “I suppose so. Ye best be on yer way, My Lady.”

  “Yes, George, and thank you.” She rushed out of the saddle room, stopping outside the door when she looked over her shoulder. Before her, Oliver quickly gathered his new belongings into the satchel. He raised his head then, and their eyes met once more. She flashed him a bright smile before departing.