Mistaken Kiss: A Humorous Traditional Regency Romance (My Notorious Aunt Book 2)

by Kathleen Baldwin

  He clucked his tongue at the horse to quicken its pace. “As it turns out, I may stand in need of your assistance. Squire Harley has several mares of his own ready to foal. If he is right about the full moon, we may find ourselves excessively busy this evening.”

  The Squire’s stables were as lovely as any Willa could imagine. They were very modern, built of a lovely light buff-red brick. Three large menacing cats guarded the arched entry. A gray-striped feline ventured forward to inspect Willa, winding around her skirts and crisscrossing her path as Willa tried to follow Alex.

  They walked down a cobbled passage between the rows of stalls. Although the building was cool and shadowed, she could see that Squire Harley required it kept extraordinarily clean. Buckets and shovels stood neatly stacked at regular intervals, fresh straw lay on the floor of the stalls, but was brushed out of the walkway. Several of the compartments were empty. The horses occupying the remainder shuffled toward their wooden gates to scrutinize the visitors.

  Alex whistled softly through his front teeth as he strode purposefully to one of the enclosures on the right hand. There was an eager answering whicker.

  A tall red horse stuck her head over the wooden gate and tossed her head at him as if scolding him for being late. When the mare caught sight of Willa, her eyes rolled back, her ears pricked up, and she pulled her head high and away from the opening.

  Alex signaled for Willa to halt. “She’s afraid. Let me calm her down before you come any nearer.”

  Willa edged away and watched with interest as he crooned to his horse.

  “Ho there, girl. Steady now. It’s me. Your best beau.” Darley’s Lass tossed her head and came warily toward him. “That’s it.” Alex stroked her muzzle. “What’s wrong, eh? Aren’t you ready to let this youngster see the sunshine? Must do it sometime, old girl.” He quietly lifted the latch. “Let’s check your progress, shall we?”

  The stable lad stood beside Willa in the dim light of the corridor. She held her breath as Alex eased into the box with the skittish mare. He left the door ajar. Alex moved very slowly, standing tall and erect with one hand on her at all times. She nuzzled his shoulder and made a low moaning whinny that even Willa recognized as a sound of discomfort.

  Alex nodded. “Yes. Any time now and it’ll be all over. I wish I could make it easier for you, Darley.”

  She pawed the ground and turned toward him, which prevented him from inspecting her hindquarters more thoroughly. The mare followed the sound of his soothing voice and nudged at his coat.

  He opened the pocket. “No apples or carrots today, I’m afraid. You wouldn’t want one anyway. Not in your condition.” He patted her side and slowly wended his way toward her thighs. “That’s my girl, hold steady.”

  He smoothed one hand down her underbelly and checked her teats. “Soon, very soon, eh?” He gently lifted her tail. Darley shifted her weight and pawed the straw again. “Easy, girl.” Alex moved back to her neck. “You’re in fine fettle.” Patting her, he reassured the pregnant mare as affectionately as a parent would an ailing child.

  Willa smiled wistfully. She could not remember such moments with her mother or father. Had her mother’s voice soothed her to sleep when she was ill? Had her father calmed her fears after a bad dream? Surely, they had. But she could not remember.

  Alex’s compassion for Darley resonated deeply, opening a Pandora’s box in Willa’s heart. She’d never realized how much she yearned for that kind of tenderness. Someone to dote on her. But that was silly. Preposterous. A selfish desire. She banished it back into the box from which it had escaped. Trouble was, now she knew the yearning hidden there.

  Alex dusted off his hands as he walked toward them. “Well, she’s no longer waxing. She’s dripping. This is her fifth foal. I suppose it’s not uncommon.”

  Tommy nodded in agreement. “Seen it afore, sir.”

  Alex studied the cobbled bricks on the floor for a moment. “Even so, it doesn’t seem quite right. She didn’t do this last time. When did the farrier say he would return?”

  “Dunno, sir. He’s tendin’ his Grace’s mares. Squire is right. Seems like every mare in the county ’as decided ’er time is up.”

  Alex exhaled loudly. “Very well. Keep a close eye on Darley. I’ll show Miss Linnet my other horses. Then I’ll introduce her to Mrs. Bennet.” He turned to Willa. “The squire’s amiable housekeeper. I fear you won’t be very comfortable waiting with me out here in the stables.”

  The stable boy shuffled impatiently and glanced down the hall toward another stall. “You’ll find Midnight and his brothers running in the pasture just north of the gardens. I’d best be checkin’ on t’other mares, sir.”

  “Certainly. But don’t forget to find me immediately if there’s any change. Any change.”

  The boy pulled on his forelock and hurried off.

  Willa accepted Alex’s arm as they walked out. “Alex, it is kind of you to think of my comfort, but I really don’t wish to go to the house. I would much rather stay here with you and see Darley’s baby born. I’ve never watched a horse give birth. I should like it very much.”

  He sighed and shook his head. “No, we’ve pushed the bounds of propriety nearly out of reach as it is. I ought not.”

  “Oh, Alex. It isn’t as if I’m some prize debutante on the marriage mart afraid of ruination. All these cumbersome rules are for silly girls in white dresses. It’s enough to strangle the life out of a sensible woman. I’ve done as I pleased, gone anywhere I wished since I was out of leading strings.”

  “Ah, yes, rational, logical Willa.” He smiled crookedly, and she felt he was mocking her. “Do you not realize how well you were protected within the confines of St. Cleves? The whole village played nursemaid to the vicar’s baby sister. Surely you see the difference? This is London. One must follow the rules or face censure.”

  “I hardly think anyone will censure me for observing a horse give birth.”

  He patted her hand. “Unfortunately, I’ve heard of young ladies censured for less.”

  Willa sniffed indignantly. “Well, this is the country. No one with any common sense will care.”

  “Ah, there’s the rub, my dear Miss Logical. We may hope for good sense, but sadly, there is very little to be found.”

  She decided a change of subject might be her best tactic. Nothing short of an edict from Prince George would compel her to leave Alex’s side and miss out on the prospect of new life. “What lovely gardens.”

  “Hhmm.” He peered at her suspiciously. “Yes. Lovely.”

  “It looks amazingly hardy, does it not?”

  “Very neatly done. Nevertheless, you are still going up to the house later.”

  She smiled cheerfully. “You must tell me how he achieved such phenomenal growth. My brother, and yours, would be most interested.”

  He chuckled softly. “Very well. Harley idolizes Thomas Coke. Indeed, he proses on endlessly about Coke’s brilliant innovations in farming. Very efficient. The good squire has remarkably productive harvests. His fields yield twice that of any of his neighbors.”

  They came to stile at the far end of the garden. Alex climbed to the top and stood for a moment looking out to the east.

  The lowering sun outlined his profile in gold as he studied the horizon. “Can you see it then? The fire?” she asked.

  He reached down to help her up onto the top stair beside him, and stepped down on the opposite side so that they were of the same height. “There.” He pointed, directing her gaze, his cheek next to hers. “Through that gap in the trees. Down the hill. Do you see the flames and smoke?”

  “I can’t,” she whispered, loathe to disturb their closeness with speech.

  “There’s a flicker of orange down there. And a gray cloud rising just above the copse. Can you not see the smoke?”

  His hair brushed against her cheek. He smelled perfectly wonderful, like brandy and soap and... and vaguely of fish water from the river. That didn’t matter. He smelled perfect. Just
as a man ought. “Uh-hum,” she murmured happily, absurdly, as if they weren’t discussing a fire. Fires were horrid things that destroyed lives and property, but just now she felt completely unalarmed. “That’s smoke? I thought it was just a cloud.”

  “Yes.” He straightened.

  She missed the feel of his face against her cheek. “Does it look bigger than it did before?” Her foolish heart shouted commands. Don’t leave my side so quickly. Come back. Show me. Lean close.

  “No. Thank God.” He stepped down the stile. “They must be keeping it under control.”

  “Yes,” she murmured, trying to sound pleased.

  He held her hand, helped her down the old stone stairs, and led her into a vast sea of tall, still grass. Every slender stalk stood at attention, waiting for a wind to blow it, a noise to move it, an insect to bend it, but there was none. They all stood waiting.

  Alex whistled, a sharp, commanding trill. She heard the sound of galloping long before the moving wraiths became distinct shapes. The grass vibrated at their coming. Three horses, shaking the earth as they ran, one black as pitch and the other two fiery red blazes in the setting sun.

  At least these brilliant flames she could see. They ran with tails streaming behind them, and the nearer they came, the more Willa could feel the joy with which they ran. Alex smiled like a proud parent as they galloped toward him and circled around like children eager for his attention.

  The big black reared up, staving off his brothers before he trotted up to Alex, claiming his portion of attention first.

  “Lord of the pasture, eh, now that Mercury is off to the races?” Alex patted the black and turned to Willa. “Allow me to introduce you to Darley’s children.”

  The feisty stallion nudged him in the shoulder for turning away from him.

  Alex responded by smoothing his hand down the big black’s nose. “This ornery fellow is Midnight Streak. Midnight because that is the hour he was born, and Streak because we hope that is all one will see of him when he runs.”

  As if Midnight understood he was the subject under discussion, he tossed up his head and whickered.

  Alex laughed. “I must warn you, his pride knows no bounds. He thinks he is the fastest and finest buck in all of England. Don’t you, my boy? And perhaps he is.” Alex pushed on Midnight’s nose, backing him away from Willa and returning him to his brothers.

  Alex brushed his fingers through the red mane of the larger of the two chestnuts. “This handsome lad is Fire Star. He’s only two years old, but, he’ll soon be putting old Midnight through his paces, won’t you lad? There’s a small star here on his nose.” Alex ran his fingers lovingly over the slender white mark. “His coat is the reddest I’ve ever seen. See how, in this light, he almost appears to have a halo of fire?”

  Alex’s voice poured out rich with caring, flowing gently over the horse, falling softly on the meadow grasses, bestirring them with his affection. Willa felt an intruder. Then, he looked over at her. “You have the same halo.”

  A fiery halo.

  The compliment washed over her, bathing her for one golden moment in his divine tenderness. A light breeze sent waves rippling through the grass.

  Behind them, at the edge of the garden, Tommy ran toward them, shouting a breathless warning. “Sir! Sir! Come quick! She’s got a red bag! I saw it.”

  Alex swore under his breath. He pulled Willa swiftly behind him. They ran up and over the stile. “Forgive me. I must leave you with Tommy.” With that, he bolted toward the stables.

  Willa held out her skirts and hurried after him, but she may as well have tried to keep up with Fire Star or Midnight. Alex far outdistanced her.

  She slowed down and tried to catch her breath. “What’s a red bag?” she asked Tommy, who had matched paces with her.

  “Oooh, it’s bad, that’s what it is, miss. It’s the wrong part coming out first. The foal will drown if we don’t get it out in time. And the mare, she could bleed to death.”

  “No. No! We can’t let—” The desperate plea died midsentence as she charged down the garden path as fast as she could, praying and running. If Darley died, or the foal, what would it do to Alex? She didn’t want to think of it. There must be something they could do. “There must be!” She begged the Almighty.

  Chapter 14

  Ride A Dying Horse to Banbury Cross

  THE STABLE WAS ominously quiet except for the thumping of Tommy’s boots on the bricks as he and Willa hurried down the passageway. The cats sat in the shadows outside the entrance of Darley’s stall like mourners guarding a tomb. They did not stir at her coming. Even the birds in the rafters had gone elsewhere to sing.

  Darley lay on her side, breathing heavily. The pressure of the foal’s weight against the tired mare’s belly made each labored breath sound like a groan. Alex knelt at the mare’s head, soothing her. When Willa entered the box, the poor horse didn’t react, but merely followed her movements with wary, pain-glazed eyes.

  Alex glanced up. Willa had never seen him look so grim, so soldier-like. “Get a knife, boy. A knife or anything sharp. Hurry!”

  The lad ran off to the rear of the stables and disappeared.

  “Willa. Take my place.” Alex summoned her in hushed tones. “Talk to her. Rub her like this. Keep her calm.”

  But as soon as Alex got up and Willa moved toward Darley’s head, the mare rolled her eyes back, showing the whites like a beast on the verge of madness. She lifted her head and thrashed, struggling to rise. She neighed, a pitiful cry for mercy.

  Willa backed away.

  “It’s no good.” Alex raked his hand through his hair. “She doesn’t know you.”

  Tommy ran in carrying a fierce looking blade. “Should be sharp enough, sir. We use it to cut the leather. But Goliath’s Dame is foaling. I got to see to her. Squire would hang me by my thumbs if ought ’appened to her.”

  “Go then,” Alex ordered, studying the shadows on the back wall as if they might be hiding some solution to his problem.

  His gaze moved to Willa. She read his desperation. He grasped her upper arm, as if she might run away or abandon him. “I need you to help me cut open the birth sack.”

  Cut it?

  She cringed. But he needed her. She nodded and briefly studied the haphazard pattern of straw strewn on the floor. What she needed just now was a predictable set of lines and squares. Something she could count on. Next time, she would be more specific when she prayed for help.

  “Good.” Alex swallowed hard. “I’ll keep her lying still. Stay well back from her legs. You must slit the bag when it bulges out next time. Try not to cut the foal. But the important thing is to cut all the way through the membrane. Can you do it?”

  She nodded, hoping.

  Alex pressed the knife in her hand and wrapped her fingers around it. He held her hand in both of his as if he could transfer some of his strength to her, stilling the ever-so-slight tremble. He took a deep breath, looking intently into her eyes. “That’s my Willa. Never afraid of anything.”

  He left her standing there, the blade heavy in her fist. He knelt beside Darley’s head, blocking the horse’s view of her would-be surgeon.

  You’re wrong. I am afraid.

  Willa’s lips moved in a silent plea to her maker as she edged against the rough walls of the stall toward Darley’s tail.

  “That’s my brave lass.” Alex stroked Darley’s neck. Willa wasn’t sure if he meant her or the horse.

  “Go gently,” he coaxed. “Now, wait for it to swell out. The front hooves may be inside it. Try to cut between them.” His voice was low, soothing. “That’s it.”

  Willa’s heart banged so hard against her chest that even if the mare kicked her she doubted she would feel it. Her hand shook crazily as she extended the knife and waited, waited for the crimson pouch to puff out.

  The velvety red bag of veins and fluid swelled out. Darley snorted, a doleful rumble that curdled Willa’s strength.

  “Do it, Willa.” Alex’s voice was eve
n and soft, but the urgency was unmistakable. “Do it now.”

  She pressed the knife against the bloody sack. The blade slid off to the side without making a mark. “It’s slippery. I can’t—”

  “Use the point. Please, my love. Do it. You must or she’ll die.”

  Willa plunged the knifepoint into the bag. Blood oozed down the steel and onto the wooden handle. She pushed it in further. Water squirted out, cleaning the knife and gushing over Willa’s hand. She pulled the blade downward, slitting the bag further. Then she saw them, two sodden legs pushing their way out of the darkness.

  “The hooves. I can see the hooves!”

  “You’ve done it. Oh, my sweet, you’ve done it.” Alex’s shoulders relaxed.

  The broken joy in his voice allowed Willa’s shoulders to relax.

  Alex leaned over and kissed Darley’s cheek and patted her neck. “You’re going to be fine, old girl. Fine.”

  In answer, Darley grunted unappreciatively.

  Willa returned her attention to the miracle unfolding in front of her. “Oh! Oh my. A nose.” She forgot to keep her voice low. She corrected it to an excited whisper. “Alex, I see a nose.”

  She beamed at him and didn’t give a thought to the tears leaking down her cheeks. It was all too marvelous. Darley almost died, and now—now here was a new life.

  The foal came out in surges. Its head poked out, partially hooded in the red sack and a blue-gray skin. Willa scooted back to make way for the emerging horse.

  “Make sure his nose is clear.” Alex strained to see while still pacifying Darley. “Check the nostrils.”

  Willa gently touched the warm, wet muzzle. “It’s as clear as old Euripides’s nose ever was.” She smiled happily. “That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Unless your ornery old mule always had a cabbage stuffed up his nose.”

  “Cabbage for brains. But not in his nose.” Willa watched, mesmerized, as more and more of the baby escaped from the stretched-out opening.