My Fair Groom (The Sons of the Aristocracy)

by Linda Rae Sande

  Feigning embarrassment, which wasn’t difficult given the situation, Sarah waved a hand at the barmaid. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. He’s an earl. I … I run an inn. I used to be a barmaid …”

  “You’re sweet on him.”

  Sarah froze, one hand pressed against her midriff. She knows, she thought, a bit panicked at the thought that the odd relationship she shared with Gabriel Wellingham was apparent to a barmaid. “He is a rather handsome man,” Sarah finally admitted. “Hard not to be … attracted to the man,” she added lamely.

  “True,” Margery agreed as she made her way to the door. “Do give him some consideration, Miss Cumberbatch. If you remember, I occasionally read those gossip rags from London. The Earl of Trenton didn’t do well with those blue bloods last Season. I hear the man is in desperate need of a wife.” With that, Margery took her leave of Sarah’s room.

  Chapter 14

  Clothes Make the Man

  Wallings, Viscount Cheltenham’s valet since Julia’s brother was out of short pants, regarded Alistair with a raised brow. “I do believe I can find some suitable clothes,” he murmured, stepping back and regarding Alistair from the side. “And, if not, I can have Holdwalter pay a call. We can have something custom made in a day or two.”

  Alistair cocked an eyebrow, certain the valet was baiting him. “Perhaps that would be best, seeing as how Lord Cheltenham is shorter than I am. I will, of course, pay for the clothes myself,” he stated as he regarded his reflection in the cheval mirror.

  The two had been in Charles Mayfield’s bedchamber for the past half-hour, Wallings providing a steady stream of waistcoats and topcoats for Alistair to try on. The waistcoats, although a bit on the flamboyant side, fit well enough, but the topcoats proved a problem in that the shoulders were far too narrow and the sleeves were too short.

  At the comment about paying for the tailor’s services, Wallings’ allowed an expression of surprise. “Begging your pardon, sir, but I rather doubt you can afford Mr. Holdwalter’s fees given your position,” he said, sotto voce.

  Pulling on a pair of breeches, Alistair groaned as it became evident he would be unable to secure the buttons on the fly. Although the superfine wool had some give, it didn’t give enough. Not only would every muscle in his thighs show in relief, so would everything in his nether regions. “I have a bit of blunt,” Alistair assured the valet, quickly divesting himself of the formal attire. And if it wasn’t enough, he might be able to ask Holdwalter’s son-in-law for a loan.

  Edward Seward, apparently happily married for nearly two years now, had just returned to London from an extended Grand Tour with his bride, the former Anna Holdwalter. The two were currently on the hunt for an appropriate residence while staying with the Cunninghams in their terrace on Grosvenor Square.

  “Very good, sir,” Wallings replied. He angled his head to one side and sighed. “That is all that Viscount Cheltenham has in his clothes press at the moment,” he said with a shrug.

  Alistair turned to take in the neat pile of waistcoats and topcoats that lay on the bench at the end of the bed, a bit of panic settling over him. He’d have to pay a call on Seward just as soon as he had some free time, perhaps later that night, after the servants’ supper.

  For the first time since he’d left Aimsley House, he found himself missing the services of a footman. “Holdwalter, it is, then,” Alistair murmured, wondering at the irony of borrowing money from the husband of the daughter of the tailor to pay the tailor. Like robbing Peter to pay Paul, he thought without feeling any humor at the irony. “Thank you for your help in all this,” he said as he waved his hand over the discarded clothing.

  Wallings nodded. “Of course. May I ask, sir, why you are in need of formal clothes? Perhaps if I knew the … event, I could better dress you for the occasion.”

  Alistair had to suppress a grin. He wondered how long it would be before the valet could no longer hide his curiosity. “Lady Mayfield’s ball,” he replied in a whisper. “I am not at liberty to explain the details, but it is imperative that I present myself as a gentleman. No one in attendance can know that I am truly a groom,” he whispered, leaning in as if he was concerned they might be overheard.

  Wallings’ eyebrows lifted to a new high. “Are you … crashing … the ball?” he wondered, obviously distressed by the news a mere groom would attempt to attend a ton ball.

  “Oh, no!” Alistair, replied quickly, his head shaking from side to side. “I have an invitation … to be a guest,” he clarified when Wallings gave him another look of disbelief.

  “Rather unusual circumstances then,” Wallings commented, his brows having descended to their normal location.

  “Indeed,” Alistair agreed with a nod.

  “I’ll see to the appointment, then,” Wallings said, moving to put away the discarded clothes.

  “Thank you,” Alistair said. “Would you like me to help with those?” he wondered, suddenly embarrassed that he was the cause of a good deal of work for the valet.

  “I can see to this,” Wallings said with a nod.

  Feeling dismissed, Alistair made his way out of the room. He almost headed for the main hall staircase when he remembered his status in the household. Making a quick turn, he hurried to the servant stairs at the back of the house and made his way to the stables by way of the back garden.

  Chapter 15

  An Earl Wakes Up to Reality

  Gabriel Trenton stretched and turn on his side, expecting to open his eyes to find Sarah staring back at him. Instead, he found himself staring at empty bedclothes and a goose feather that wiggled with his every breath. Lifting himself onto one elbow, he glanced around the room. Damnation! Where had she gone?

  His sleep addled mind remembered her parting words. I have probably already been missed, she’d said. Indeed, you are missed, he thought lazily, enjoying the way his body felt after their afternoon lovemaking. He gave a thought to how he might entice her to return to his bed later that night. And stay in it so he could wake up next to her in the morning.

  Finally rising, he realized the luncheon dishes had been cleared, but a pot of hot tea and a cup and saucer had been left in their place. Helping himself, he poured a cup and downed it one gulp. He dressed quickly and left the room, intent on taking a ride. At some point, he would have to find the inn’s manager before the supper crowd arrived. Once the locals started filling up the public room, there would be no chance to get Sarah by herself until late into the night.

  Gabriel found Margery in the taproom, her hands in sudsy wash water and a collection of mugs sitting out on flannels. “Good afternoon,” he said by way of greeting.

  Margery smiled, giving him a curtsy. “And to you, my lord. Would you like an ale?” she asked, holding up one of the newly washed mugs. “Or, were you looking for someone?” she wondered, one eye winking as if she was teasing him.

  Shaking his head, the earl declined. Had Sarah said something of their afternoon tryst? he wondered. “Actually, I’d like to take a ride about Stretton,” he said. “Whom do I see about saddling my horse?”

  The inn’s owner, John Bristow, came from the public room just as Gabriel made the query. “I’ll see to it right away, my lord,” he said with a bow.

  Nodding, Gabriel took his leave of the taproom, glancing down the hall to where he knew Sarah’s office was located. Although he was tempted to pay her a quick visit, he thought better of it. He had already monopolized her time that afternoon, and given the amount of work there was to do to prepare a supper and rooms for the night, he dared not take more of her time.

  He made his way out the front door of the inn and around to the side yard, admiring how much better the coaching inn looked compared to the days before he’d inherited the earldom. Back then, he had only stopped at the inn to have an ale and a tumble with a barmaid named Genevieve. Although she was pleasant enough, she was nothing like Sarah – not nearly as pretty and certainly not as beddable. He could barely remember what she looked like.


  How time had changed him! He’d gone from a boy who lived in constant fear of his father to a young man at school and university who learned from other sons of the aristocracy that it was acceptable to be an arrogant ass. And now, now that he’d had a Season in London behind him and was about to start another, he’d come to realize that none of the trappings of an earldom meant a damn thing without someone to share them with. And arrogance was not a trait easily abided by those who worked on his – or his earldom’s – behalf. Far better to be a more humble man.

  His mother still lived at Trenton Manor, a situation that would have to change once he took a wife. There was a dowager cottage on the grounds near Wolverhampton, and she would no doubt stay there until Gabriel was married and had heirs she could brag about at ton events. If she appeared in any London drawing rooms now, she would only be barraged with questions about her son’s apparent failures in Parliament and in the Marriage Mart.

  “Your horse is ready, my lord,” Bobby, one of the stableboys, said as he led Jupiter toward the front of the yard.

  “Thank you,” Gabriel said as he took the reins. He tossed the stableboy a coin. “If you would, let the innkeeper know I shall return. I did not see her on my way out,” he said as he mounted Jupiter.

  Bobby nodded. “I will. She was probably just taking care of the baby,” he commented before giving the earl a quick bow and hurrying back to the stables.

  Gabriel blinked. And blinked again as he watched the boy run off.

  Baby?

  Chapter 16

  A Groom Asks for Help from an Old Friend

  Once supper was done and he had bid his fellow servants a good night, Alistair signaled to Mr. Grimes that he wanted a word. “I need to pay a call on a friend this evening. Do you suppose I might be allowed to borrow a horse?” he wondered. “I won’t be gone long,” he added, hoping the head groom would agree.

  Mr. Grimes gave Alistair a knowing grin. “If yer off to see your ladybird, you best plan to be gone a bit longer,” he said, jabbing an elbow in Alistair’s rib.

  Alistair gave the groom a look of surprise and then grinned as if he’d been caught in a lie. “Does that mean I can borrow a horse?”

  The head groom shrugged. “Take Perseus. He’s better in the night,” he said. “But don’t be staying out all night. Lady Mayfield is planning a trip to Horsham in the morning, so we’ll have to hitch up the coach.”

  Alistair nodded and hurried off to the stables. Horsham? He wondered who her ladyship would be visiting. Viscountess Cunningham, perhaps? Alistair could think of no other ladies of the ton in Horsham proper, although there were several nearby. The Duchess of Chichester? Or perhaps the new Lady Bostwick was in Sussex?

  Perseus seemed glad for the exercise when Alistair led him down the alley to the street. He mounted the beast, happy to have the opportunity to ride a horse more suited to his height and skills than the nag he’d been riding in the park earlier that week.

  Although the sky was already darkening, gas lamps lit up one after the other as he made his way down Park Lane toward Grosvenor Square. When he arrived at the townhouse featuring a set of dark green double doors flanked by elegantly trimmed topiary, he dismounted and tied Perseus to a post near the stairs to the front door. “Don’t eat anything,” he murmured, giving the horse a quick pat and a carrot he found hidden in his trouser pocket.

  Mounting the steps two at a time, he grimaced when he realized he still wore the clothes he had worn to muck out the stables just before dinner. He was about to turn around and head back to Mayfield House to change clothes when the front door opened suddenly.

  “Oh!” came a pair of feminine gasps as he was revealed under the lamplight from the vestibule.

  Alistair, nearly as startled as the two lovely women who stood before him with their hands over their mouths, immediately bowed. “I beg your pardon, my ladies,” he apologized, straightening and then reaching for their hands. The habit was so ingrained, he already had his lips halfway to the taller woman’s gloved hand when she pulled it back from his grasp. She also took two steps back, pulling her companion back with her. And then a butler managed to make his way between the two gels to regard him.

  “Deliveries can be made through the back garden,” he stated with his nose elevated a bit.

  Alistair sighed, realizing he had arrived just as the two women in residence were about to head out for a walk. “Alistair Comber. Jeffers, I’m hear to see Mr. Seward,” he stated with a nod, hoping that by calling the butler by his name, the man might recognize him.

  The butler eyed him with suspicion. “Mr. Comber?” he replied uncertainly.

  “Yes,” Alistair stated. “I apologize for the lateness of my call.”

  The shorter of the two women stepped forward. “Olivia Cunningham,” she said as she held out her hand. “And this is Anna Seward. Our husbands are enjoying their cheroots and port in the library. I can take you there,” she said as she stepped aside, giving the butler a nod.

  Alistair regarded the woman who was obviously the mistress of the house. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Cunningham, Mrs. Seward,” he stated in turn. “I fear I was unaware Michael had married. I’ve been off …” He was about to say something about killing frogs, but caught himself. “On the Continent for a time,” he managed to get out. “And, I apologize for having missed your nuptials,” he said as he turned to Anna.

  The tall brunette blushed a bit at their visitor’s words. “You and everyone else,” she said with a smile. “Edward and I were married by special license with only two others in attendance.” She turned to Olivia and shrugged. “About the same as Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham.”

  Not sure how to respond to this bit of news, Alistair nodded his understanding, and then found himself wondering how at least one confirmed bachelor and another who constantly pined for his childhood sweetheart had managed to land such beautiful wives.

  “Have you known our husbands long?” Olivia wondered as she turned to lead her guest toward the library.

  Alistair thought it charitable that Olivia Cunningham would accord him more than a passing comment. He thought a moment before answering. “Since our time at Eton, I suppose,” he allowed.

  The two women gave each other knowing glances. “And Oxford, too?” Olivia guessed then, pausing as she reached the library door. She could swear the oddly dressed gentleman was blushing at her guess of which college he attended.

  “That obvious, huh?” he answered. He stopped in front of the door.

  “We’ll leave you gentlemen to your drinks. Do enjoy your evening, Mr. Comber. It was very good to meet you,” Olivia said again, hooking one of her arms into Anna’s. “Let’s try this again, shall we?” she said as she and Anna headed down the hall to the vestibule.

  “And if we meet another handsome gentleman on the doorstep, we shall have to join them all in the library for a drink,” Anna said, knowing her comment would be overheard by their visitor.

  As Jeffers moved to open the library door, Alistair heard Anna Seward’s comment and had to suppress a smile. He moved to the threshold and stood very still as Jeffers announced his presence.

  Edward Seward, tall, lean and blond, was already standing – or leaning, rather – on the fireplace mantle while Michael Cunningham sat in a wingback chair. He was on his feet in an instant, though, upon hearing Jeffers’ announcement. “Thank the gods, you’re back!” he said with a huge grin. He hurried to where Alistair stood in the doorway, grabbing the man’s hand to shake it.

  “We feared the worst,” Edward managed to say as he gripped Alistair’s shoulder.

  Heartened by his friends’ welcome, Alistair nodded. “I am back and with all my limbs and faculties about me.” After a slight pause, he added, “Well, most of them, anyway.”

  Michael had moved to the sideboard where several bottles were lined up. “Name your poison.”

  Alistair made his way into the library, taking in the comfortable surroundings. “Whiskey, if
you have it,” he replied, suddenly glad he had made the trip even if it was to ask for monetary help. He silently cursed his father for having put him in this position. Most fathers would be happy to have their sons back home from the war, commission or no commission.

  “Thanks to Edward, we have a steady supply of the stuff,” Michael said as he poured a generous amount in a glass and gave it to Alistair. They all held up their glasses.

  “How long have you been back?” Edward wondered, pointing Alistair to the floral settee he normally used while enjoying after dinner drinks.

  “A few months, actually,” Alistair replied. “I was at home for a time, but …” He paused, wondering how much to tell the two men he had known since their time at Eton College.

  “Tell us everything,” Michael encouraged him as he silently wondered about Alistair’s mode of dress.

  Taking a deep breath, Alistair let it out and then told his friends a bit of what had happened in Belgium as well as the events since his return from the Continent. He almost didn’t include the information about Lady Julia wanting to make a gentleman of him, but realized he had to if he was going to ask for a loan. “I’ve been in dance lessons with a dance master for the past week. I thought it would be easy since I was sure I had learned all of them as a youth, but apparently I’m making a cake of it,” he said with a shake of his head.

  “Dance lessons?” Edward repeated. “Christ, I wouldn’t last an hour with some Frenchie telling me how to hold my partner’s hands and how to step and dip and … ” He pantomimed an exaggerated version of the quadrille.

  “Which explains why he cannot dance,” Michael said, sotto voce.

  “I can, too,” Edward countered, returning to his drink at the mantle. “I just prefer the waltz.”

  “Don’t we all?” Michael replied, hoisting his glass into the air.