Dance With Me At Midnight (Regency Fairy Twists Book 3)

by Samantha Holt

  She sucked in a breath and turned on her heel. “I had better return. I have more to do, no doubt.”

  There was a flash of something in his eyes. Not disappointment, surely? Something else perhaps. Annoyance that she doting on her honored guest perhaps. Yes, that had to be it.

  “I see,” he said tightly. “Good day to you, my lady.”

  As she walked back down the hill, she sensed his gaze upon her. It made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, and not in the most unpleasant way. She shook her head to herself. It was wishful thinking most likely. If she fell for him and he fell for her, most of her problems would be solved. Of course, she still had the animals to worry about either way and they were far more important than some earl.

  Chapter Six

  Charles could not decide whether to be happy or annoyed he had hardly seen anything of Eloise over the past two days. After their encounter during his walk, she had successfully avoided being alone with him or even uttering more than a few polite words. He hadn’t even seen that damned bird.

  He paused his mount to take in the views of the park surrounding Hanbury. Naturally, his gaze fell to the folly on which they had stood. The day was clear, much like that day had been, with the eager spring sun trying desperately to warm him through his riding jacket. Nothing was different. The fields remained the same colors and the trees were still slowly budding their leaves.

  But something was missing, and to his astonishment, he suspected it was Eloise. Surely not, though? He had not enjoyed her company that day, had he? It had been all awkward silences and disagreements. Heck, she certainly did not approve of his love of thoroughbreds.

  He gave the horse a pat as though she might have sensed his thoughts. “Simply because Miss Eloise Cinclair does not think much of you, does not mean I don’t,” he assured the gelding.

  She gave a little grunt of acknowledgment and Charles turned her to head down toward the barn from which Eloise had emerged two days prior. What had she been doing there? Seeing to that old nag of which she had been speaking? According to her brothers, she spent more time in the barn than anyone else but they did not know why. Of course, all of this had been said with a sly smile from both of them, so he was certain they did know.

  Damn. He needed to stop caring what Miss Eloise said or did. She had proven enough times now that she was not suitable countess material. Before the end of his stay, he would apologize to the viscount, let him know that unfortunately he could not make an offer for Eloise and he would take to Town during the season to find himself a wife.

  The mere thought made him shudder. He urged the horse into a canter. The many guests at Hanbury had been enough to force him out on his own several times since his arrival. Simply going to Town made him feel suffocated and annoyed. Imagine what it was going to be like once it was known that he was on the hunt for a wife. There would be hundreds more Miss Blythes and their mothers.

  Not any Eloises though, he reckoned.

  Shaking away the thought, he continued down to the large barn. As he came to a stop, a stablehand stepped out, wiping his hands on a cloth. A little younger than himself, the man was strapping with sandy hair and a wide smile. He gave a quick bow.

  “My lord, can I help you?”

  Charles shook his head then paused. “Have you seen Miss Eloise today?”

  The man’s smile widened and Charles could not quite be sure why. “Indeed I have. You might catch up with her if you ride fast enough. In fact, I would say you definitely would. Eloise is taking the old nag out for a little walk.” He pointed toward the east side of the house.

  The familiarity in the man’s tone made Charles’ gut tighten. Eloise? Why the deuce was a stablehand being so familiar with the lady of the house?

  Charles gave a quick nod. “Thank you, uh…”

  “Bennett,” the man replied.

  “Thank you, Bennett. I shall catch up to her and keep her company.”

  No flicker of jealousy revealed itself on the man’s face. Perhaps Charles was simply being foolish. Or perhaps he was not. Eloise would not be the first woman to fall for a stablehand. In fact, ladies of ranking seemed to do it with uncommon regularity. What it was about such men, he did not know, but he would have to keep any eye on this Bennett.

  No. He turned the horse away from the barn and began a trot in the direction Bennett had pointed. No, he would not be keeping an eye on the stablehand. It was not his place. Eloise was not going to be his bride and what she did was none of his business.

  The tightness spasming in his gut once more told him otherwise.

  True to Bennett’s word, he caught up with her with ease. She was not even sitting astride the creature as she led it along a straight graveled path that curved around the house and toward the stream and back again. The nag was a scruffy, ancient horse that moved so slowly, he had to dismount and walk alongside.

  “My lord, what are you doing here?” she asked when he approached, horse in tow.

  “I stopped by the barn, expecting to see you there but Bennett said you were riding the nag.”

  She flushed a little and Charles could not help but focus on that color in her cheeks. Was it the mention of the stablehand that had done it? Were his instincts right?

  “Not quite riding, as you can see. Phyllis can’t quite take my weight but she still likes a little exercise.”

  He considered Eloise’s weight and concluded the horse had to be old indeed to be unable to carry a slender woman like her. In truth, he considered Eloise’s figure a little too long. The willowy column of it was perfectly adorned in a pale yellow gown. Sprigged with flowers and trimmed with lace, it was not an overtly glamourous dress but suited Eloise’s golden hair and pale eyes. He had to admit, he rather liked that she did not ornament herself with feathers and jewels and silks all the time, unlike many of the ladies in attendance. Those sorts of things reminded him a little too much of his mother and as much as he loved the woman, he did not want to see his mother in a prospective bride.

  Not that Eloise was one any longer. No. Certainly not. It took more than a fine figure and delicate, petal-like lips to entice him. He had a duty to his family and the estate and that was to find the best wife possible.

  “I know what you are thinking.”

  He glanced at her, surprised. “What is that?”

  “You are wondering why Phyllis has not been put out of her misery yet.”

  “Actually, I was not. She seems content and healthy enough even if she is aged and not the prettiest of horses.”

  “Do not listen to him,” Eloise told the horse with a twinkle in her eyes.

  “You talk to your horse?”

  “Of course.”

  Charles chuckled. “They make excellent confidants I find.”

  She paused and peered at him. “You talk to yours?”

  “Certainly. I can get far more sense from Ace here than most men.” He gave the horse a pat.

  Eloise’s expression softened, as did her stance. It was as though the idea of him talking to his horse softened her defenses. He was well aware Eloise had not taken to him, particularly after he had been rude about the parrot but it had taken him by surprise and he had been out of sorts. Meeting strangers was one of his least favorite things to do at the best of times, let alone when one is being attacked by a flying ball of feathers.

  The half-smile on her lips did odd things to his insides. Bunched them up and twisted them around. He drew in a breath. “Eloise, may I—”

  “Eloise! Yoo-hoo, Eloise.”

  He heard Eloise groan as her stepbrothers approached. Both men were dressed perfectly—if one cared about high fashion that was. Which he certainly did not. Buttons were polished so brightly that the sun reflected off them and made him wince. As were their boots. His own were likely mud-splattered from the ride and his cravat had definitely loosened. While he could not claim to be completely careless about his appearance, he could certainly think of better things to do than to copy all the highest
fashions and spend all of one’s time on one’s appearance. Charles had little patience for dandies.

  “Eloise, there you are,” said the taller one. Charles thought that one was David but he could not quite recall.

  “We have been looking for you,” added the other.

  “And now you have found me, what can I do for you?”

  “You are needed in the kitchens.” The tall one flicked an imaginary speck of lint off his shoulder.

  The short one sniggered. “Yes, best get your apron on Eloise. I am sure there is much to be done.”

  Charles caught her rolling her eyes. “Did the chef send for me?”

  The one he thought was David waved a hand. “He said something about a cake and how many tiers…oh I don’t know. It is bad enough that we should have to play messenger. You cannot expect me to remember.”

  “I suppose I had better see what is happening. Will you excuse me, my lord?”

  “Do you want me to take Phyllis to the barn?” Charles offered.

  “No!” She smiled. “I mean, no thank you. I would not ask such a favor of you. Please continue your ride.”

  Jaw tense, he tried to ignore the sharp pang in his stomach. She did not want him near the barn. Was it because of Bennett?

  “Hurry along then, Eloise,” her taller stepbrother urged. “Mustn’t keep Chef waiting.”

  As she turned away from the stepbrothers, Phyllis jolted. She reared and tugged from Eloise’s grasp. Charles made a grab for the reins but the horse moved swiftly away. Charles had not caught what had happened to Phyllis to make her bolt suddenly but one look at the brothers’ faces and he was certain they had done something to her.

  “Oh no,” Eloise exclaimed as the horse careened toward the ornamental gardens. Though not in full bloom, there were plenty of daffodils, tulips and winter plants neatly lined up. And Phyllis trampled all over the first line.

  Charles stuffed Ace’s reins into Eloise’s hands and raced after the animal. She had already begun to slow considering that was likely the fastest she had moved in a long time. He caught up with her as she caught her hoof in a small box tree.

  Hands lifted, he approached slowly. “Phyllis,” he said softly, taking one step, then another. “Come on, girl, calm down. We won’t let those bastards near you again.”

  He stepped closer, all too aware she could rear and mow him down if she startled again. She twitched and stamped her foot through the box tree.

  “Phyllis,” he repeated, softer still.

  She gave a grunt and made eye contact with him. He inched forward and took hold of her reins.

  “This way, girl.” He gave a light tug on the reins and she didn’t resist. Emboldened, he took a step away. “Come on, follow me.” Another tug on the reins and she began to follow him obediently.

  Once out of the formal gardens, Eloise approached, cautious not to race forward though Charles could tell she wished to. The twins had vanished.

  “Thank you,” she breathed. “Oh, thank you. If she had destroyed the gardens, she surely would have been shot.”

  “Surely not?”

  She nodded. “The viscount would like an excuse to be done with her.” She glanced at the garden. “I can repair the worst of the damage.”

  “You?” He passed over Phyllis’ reins and took back those of his own horse. “Can you not get the gardener to?”

  “I would hate to inconvenience him, and I do not mind getting my hands dirty. Though I must speak with Chef first.” She blew out a breath. “I must make haste, I have lots to do it seems. Thank you again for calming her, you clearly have a way with horses.”

  “Not at all.”

  The warm look in her eyes had him nearly doing cartwheels like a giddy schoolgirl. For whatever reason, he liked that she liked that he liked horses.

  “Well, good day to you, my lord. See you at supper.”

  He watched Eloise lead the horse back to the stable. Though he was beginning to admire Eloise’s work ethic, there were still many problems with the idea of her being his wife. The first one was that he strongly suspected she was dashing off all the time to see the stablehand. If there was anything he did not look for in a wife, it was having an affair with another man.

  Chapter Seven

  “Only two more dinners to go,” Eloise told Albert.

  “Fool,” the bird squawked.

  “Since when am I the fool?” she asked.

  “Go to hell!”

  She arched an eyebrow at the bird but he ignored her. She suspected he was feeling neglected after all the work she was putting in looking after their guests and was taking it out on her.

  “Not long now,” she muttered.

  Soon all their guests would vanish back to wherever they came from and she could get on with life as normal. Well, that was if her stepfather did not try to rid the barn of her animals. Whatever happened, somehow she would ensure their safety. Somehow.

  However, there would be no marriage proposal as he had hoped. Although she had found something to like in Charles, simply because someone was good with horses did not mean they would make a wonderful husband. Of course, she doubted he had changed his mind either and it would certainly not be changed in the course of two dinners and a ball.

  Eloise checked her evening gown in the full-length mirror and tucked in a stray lock. She would rather be in her muslin than silk and she cared little for the ruby necklace around her neck or the gems in her ears but she had to admit, she did enjoy wearing little blossoms in her hair.

  The door burst open abruptly and stopped her moment of vanity.

  “Go to hell!” Albert told the intruder.

  “Milly, what is it?”

  The maid’s cheeks were red and flushed. She drew in a long breath. “Oh dear, my lady, oh goodness, ‘tis a disaster. You would not believe it. Oh, what terrible luck we seem to be having.”

  Eloise held out her hands in a placating manner. “Calm down. What is it? What has happened?”

  “Chef has burned his arm. Oh, it’s terrible. A great big burn. He cannot finish dinner now. It’s disastrous.”

  Eloise pinched the bridge of her nose. If Chef could not finish dinner, this could indeed be disastrous. “I had better see what can be done.” She pointed to Albert. “Be a good boy while I am gone.”

  “Fool! Go to hell!”

  She shook her head, closed the door and followed Milly downstairs. The kitchen had been thrown into chaos. How that had happened in the short space of time since the chef had hurt himself, she did not know, but kitchen maids were dashing about and the scullery maid was sitting with Chef, nursing his burned arm. Pots and pans were left abandoned and something was bubbling over on the stove. The acrid scent of burning pastry hung in the air.

  Eloise scurried over and put out the oven and the stove. Then she pushed open one of the high windows to let in some air.

  “What happened, Gustave?” she asked the chef.

  He grimaced and lifted his arm that the scullery maid was gingerly laying damp cloths over. “A mere burn, nothing to worry about.”

  Gustav’s long pointed moustache twitched as he spoke. His perpetually rosy cheeks and wide smile had always made Eloise feel at ease with him but today that smile was gone—he was in more pain than he was letting on.

  She looked to the scullery maid who shook her head. “It is bad.”

  Eloise nodded. “We must get you to the doctor.”

  Gustav tried to stand but Eloise pushed him back down with a gentle touch on his shoulder.

  “Or else you go to bed and we send for him.” She lifted the damp cloth to see a sizable burn, at least half a foot long. It would need tending to properly. “Go to your room, Gustav. I shall send one of the boys to fetch the doctor.”

  “But the food…” He motioned to the mess about them.

  “Will be fine. We can manage.” She nodded to the scullery maid. “Will you ensure he goes to his room?”

  She nodded and urged the chef to go with her. Relu
ctantly the big man did as he was bid. Eloise curled a finger toward one of the kitchen boys.

  “Will you send for Dr. Ellis for me, please? Tell him to make haste.”

  The boy nodded and hurried off. Now that Gustav was dealt with, she turned her attention to the food. “Hettie, Harriet.” The two kitchen maids turned their attention to her. “Do you know what still needs to be done?”

  They nodded at the same time. “The soup…” started Hettie.

  “And the dessert,” said Harriet.

  Hettie nodded. “Chef was finishing the pie crust. I think it is burned.”

  “The pheasant was in the oven.” Harriet motioned to the empty bowls. “The sauces still need finishing and the custards.”

  “Are you able to do them without Chef’s guidance?” Eloise asked.

  They exchanged uncertain glances.

  “I can oversee. I know the menu well enough,” Eloise offered.

  “We can do it,” they said simultaneously.

  Eloise allowed herself a long breath. She would have to spend time in the kitchen instead of overseeing the footmen in the dinning room to ensure the table was laid correctly but hopefully, there would be no problems there. She would just pop up now to let them know.

  “I will not be long. Let me make sure everything is going as planned upstairs.”

  Eloise hastened up out of the kitchen, skirt in hand. As she barreled out of the door to the kitchen stairs, she smacked straight into a solid something.

  “Oof.”

  A solid something that turned out to be a man’s chest. More specifically, Charles’ chest. He put his hands to her arms and eased her back from him.

  “Eloise?”

  It was the first time he had called her by her first name alone. There was something rather appealing about it. She gave him an apologetic smile.

  “Forgive me, I was in a hurry.”

  “What is the matter? I saw that lad dash off on horseback. Has something happened?”

  She pushed aside a strand of hair and tried to ignore the fact that he was still holding her arms. “The chef burned his arm quite badly I am afraid. It has caused a bit of trouble in the kitchen but it is all under control.”