by Tinnean
“Of course not. Should I have?”
“And how will I find their mouths?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. Much about me could be maligned, but I would not sit for having my driving impugned. “Their mouths are in the same condition as when you left them here, sir: soft and undamaged. If you do not wish to take my word for it, we can go to the stable right now.” I threw my napkin onto the table and pushed back my chair.
“Pax, Ashton, pax. I was merely funning you.”
“Well, I do not appreciate it. I would never harm one of my animals, nor put it in jeopardy.”
“Would you not? In that case, stop combing my hair and finish your breakfast. I did the same with your greys, you know, and you’re right, they’re very sweet steppers.”
“Not mine; Sir Eustace’s. You’ll notice their tails were docked.”
“Barbaric fashion! However, they’ve created quite a stir in Town. I let it be known that they might be had for a respectable offer. I think you should be hearing from Lord Bainbridge before too long, and possibly from Lord Wittenby.”
“Truly?”
His expression relaxed in a smile. “Truly.”
“Well, then. I’m quite finished. Shall we go?”
AS WE entered the stable yard, Geo looked casually ’round and said, “I must say I’m impressed by the excellent condition in which this is kept.”
“It’s Mr. Ruston’s pride and joy.”
“And yours also, I think.” He smiled at me.
“Yes,” I agreed, returning his smile. “Mine, also.” Mr. Ruston was leading out a black gelding. We’d discussed the possibility of providing a mount for my… guest, and decided that a mild-mannered animal might be best until we saw his ability. “Do you ride, sir?”
“Of course. I’m an Englishman, aren’t I?”
“Perhaps I should have said, do you still ride?”
“Not as much as before.” He gestured to his leg.
“I’m sorry. I had hoped….”
“You’d hoped what, Ashton?”
“That you would ride with me.”
“Thank you for asking me. I believe I should enjoy it. It’s been too long.”
“In that case, allow me to introduce Onyx. He’s easy-going, and he’ll do whatever you ask of him.” I wasn’t certain if Geo would be angry that I’d selected a mount for him. “He’ll be at your disposal.”
The corner of Geo’s mouth crooked in a grin, and I half expected him to say, As you will? As you are? Instead, he asked, “You mean he’s a slug?”
I flushed. “Not at all. He’s simply….” In truth, he was. Fireworks shot off under his tail on Guy Fawkes Night would not get a rise from him. However, until I could see how Geo sat a horse, what with the injury to his leg, I was reluctant to give him a mount with more ginger. “He won’t jounce you around.”
He limped to the gelding and held his hand out, palm up. “Hello, my fine fellow.” Onyx snuffled the proffered palm, lipped it curiously, then bobbed his head a time or two against Geo’s chest. “Perhaps it’s for the best. It has been some time since I’ve thrown a leg over a… horse.”
“Then I hope you’ll find the time while you visit with us at Laytham Hall.” I overlooked his mild innuendo and breathed a silent sigh of relief. “If you like, you can try him out today. After I’ve given you a tour of the stables, perhaps?”
“Yes, that would be delightful. It’s such a fine day, after all.”
“It is. Mr. Ruston, please see Onyx and Blue Boy are saddled. An hour?” I cocked an eyebrow at Geo, and he nodded. “In an hour.”
“Very good, Sir Ashton.”
“Where are Mr. Stephenson’s bays?”
“In the paddock by the apple orchard.”
“We can ride out there.”
“An excellent suggestion, Ash. And perhaps Cook will be so kind as to make some sandwiches for us as well.”
“Oh, yes!” An opportunity to spend a good portion of the day with him? I leaped at it. I’d bring along some lotion on the chance I could persuade him to dally with me in the dappled shade of an apple tree. The ground might be knotted with roots, but the saddle pads would make a decent enough bed. Or perhaps he might take me up against a trunk….
My mouth went dry, and I felt overly warm at the thought. No one else, not even John, whom I’d loved, or at least thought I had, had ever made my body sing as Geo did.
He linked his arm through mine, and as we slowly made our way between the long row of stalls, inquisitive heads appeared at the doors and followed our progress.
THAT SEEMED to set the pattern of our time together. During the week, he stayed in Town, taking care of whatever needed to be done for His Majesty, and at week’s end, he would tool himself down to my estate, Kincaid up on the groom’s seat behind him.
He proved to be a crack shot, and we hunted—pheasant, quail, rabbit, partridge—to Cook’s delight.
I was surprised to discover he was not familiar with the use of a rod and line, and so I taught him how, and we fished while the weather was still mild enough, bringing home strings of trout that again pleased Cook.
We even rode to hounds a time or two when his leg was up to it, joined by Aunt Cecily and Arabella, who were both bruising riders. However, since the sight of blood made her squeamish, Arabella tended to avoid the kill.
In the evening, we played card games: Speculation or loo when the ladies joined us, piquet when it was just Geo and I, and I’d been tempted to offer stakes of an article of clothing a point, but in the end hadn’t brought it up, fearing he might think me sluttish.
Geo would chat with Aunt Cecily, who had quickly forgiven him for dashing her hopes of getting Arabella wed; he’d bring her news of his father and the latest on dits from Town.
Afterwards, Arabella would pester him to teach her the latest dances. I’d protested at first, shamelessly using the excuse of his leg, although truthfully not liking the idea of my lover twirling about with the chit in his arms, but Geo had laughed and done as he’d wanted.
Subsequently, he had taken me aside and pinched my chin, saying, “Since nothing will persuade me to marry her, the least I can do is see to it she has enough of the social graces that someone else will take her off your hands,” and I’d been mollified.
I’d been even more mollified when he took my right hand in his left, placed his right palm on my hip, and began to waltz me around the room, his movements smooth in spite of his injured leg.
On occasion we would retire to the billiards room. I had told the servants we were not to be disturbed since that tended to throw my guest off his game, and Geo had smiled knowingly. I won the game, to his surprise, and my prize was to have him take me over the green baize.
It would have been enjoyable to take him on occasion, I thought wistfully, but I never dared bring that up.
Once Geo suggested chess, having come across Sir Eustace’s set of ivory and onyx, but I’d never had the brains for it, and rather than have him learn this, I brusquely refused and stalked out of the room.
Later, after everyone had retired, he came to me. “It doesn’t matter, Ash,” he whispered in my ear. “You have much else to recommend you.” And his clever fingers explored my body.
He spent a large portion of the night in my bed, and I hoped I gave him as much enjoyment in the act as he gave me.
It became easier and easier for me to believe that he did indeed like me, and I… well, I….
I took the greatest pleasure in his company.
I LEARNED through various ways that Geo’s birthday fell on February 25th.
Over the years, birthdays had become less than memorable for me. Of course I was given gifts—after all, I was not like that girl in the fairy tales who sat by the fire and raked out the cinders—but they were the utmost in practicality, things like handkerchiefs or neckcloths, not the puppy I’d always wanted and which was given to John instead, until Sir Eustace came home and learned of it, and insisted it be kept with his small hunting pack, or
the fancy waistcoat that Robert was given, or the penknife that William received.
This year, however, I had already been given something better than puppies or waistcoats or penknives, and I could barely contain my anticipation of celebrating Geo’s with him.
It was unlikely he would spend the day with me, for it fell in the middle of the week. However, I was certain he would be here at Laytham Hall at the week’s end, and I had something very special waiting for him.
In the stable was the chestnut colt I’d had from Colonel Whittemore.
“THE COLT’LL not be up to m’weight,” the man had grumbled. “Can’t think why I shelled out the blunt for a two-year-old.”
I rather thought I could. Word had it that he had an eye to wed one of the Petre sisters. No doubt he imagined the handsome colt would give him the added dash he would need to win the lady.
“Why bring him to me?”
“Lord Hasbrouck thought you might be interested. Should tell you the colt ain’t been under saddle yet.”
“Indeed.” I was more than interested, although I concealed that fact. The colt had the dish face of an Arabian. His eyes were bright and inquisitive, and there was a spring in his step. “What’s his temperament like, Colonel? The last thing I need in my stables is a troublesome animal.” The last thing I wanted was an animal who would throw my lover, further injuring his leg.
“The colt’s mettlesome, but I swear he ain’t got an ounce of vice in him.”
“Hmmm. Mr. Ruston?”
Mr. Ruston examined the colt’s mouth and feet, studied him in motion, and then gave a slight nod. “He’s sound enough, and he’s a smooth, easy gait.”
“How much were you thinking of asking?”
“I paid a hundred guineas.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, that’s too rich for me.”
“Don’t be so hasty, Sir Ashton. He’s got excellent bloodlines!”
“But he hasn’t been broken to saddle, and it will be some time before he can be ridden.”
“Well, yes. But—”
“And he’s also eating his head off in your stables,” Mr. Ruston murmured, earning himself a glare from the Colonel.
By the time the deal was completed, the Colonel had grudgingly dropped his price by almost half, and had agreed to buy a dappled mare he’d seen me take over some fences during the previous fox hunting season. I was reluctant to part with her, but realized I’d need to sell a horse from time to time if I hoped to make a name for the stud.
“Well done, Sir Ash.”
“I didn’t come across as a cent per center, did I?”
“Not at all, although you squeezed the Colonel good and proper. What do you plan to call this handsome lad?”
“I think I’ll wait and see.”
“Good notion, sir. If one but waits, an animal will often name himself.”
The chestnut bobbed his head as if in agreement. In fact, I rather thought that Geo might want to name him.
Mr. Ruston rubbed a palm over his muzzle. “I’ll put him up then, shall I?”
“In the shed behind Mrs. Nye’s cottage, if you please? I’ve… I’ve a mind to gift Mr. Stephenson with this colt, and I want to surprise him.”
“Ah. A very handsome gift, if I may say so. You like him then, do you, Sir Ash?”
“I… yes.” I was reluctant to speak of my lover, lest I give away my deepening feelings for him.
Mr. Ruston nodded. “You’ve been needing a friend of your own class, sir, and he seems a good man.” The colt began to dance, impatient at being in one place for such a while. “You’ll want to get this lad gradually used to a man’s weight on his back.”
My thoughts went to how I bore Geo’s weight on my back, and my prick twitched. Fortunately, Mr. Ruston didn’t notice, since he was fussing over the colt. I cleared my throat. “Yes. I’d like to see him ready for Mr. Stephenson to ride when he comes down the last week in February.”
“If the ground isn’t too hard and it doesn’t snow. Wouldn’t want this lad to stumble and break his knees.” Mr. Ruston grinned around the pipe stem in his mouth. He tugged on the colt’s halter rope. “Come along, my handsome lad.”
IT LACKED little more than a fortnight until the end of February. Geo had left for London earlier in the day, the temperature had dipped, and it was too cold to do anything of an evening but sit by a fire.
We were in the rose sitting room, Arabella at the piano, stroking the ivory keys. I recognized the tune as something she was wont to play while William turned the pages of the music.
“It’s been six months since….” Her lower lip trembled. No matter how she might protest the suggestion that she was missing William, it was obvious to any who knew her that she was.
“I know, dear child.” Aunt Cecily paused in setting stitches into her needlepoint. She, as well, appeared melancholy at times, and I knew she was grieving not her widowhood, but the absence of the Hoods.
I, on the other hand, found I thought of them, even John, only in the odd moment. There was too much to do, and on those rare occasions when I had some leisure, Geo kept me pleasurably occupied, and not always in bed. We had discovered a jigsaw puzzle of the Battle of Waterloo in the attic one Sunday after church and had taken to working on it.
As I studied the odd piece—was that smoke or a lowering cloud?—I wondered once again if Geo would spend his birthday here at Laytham Hall. However, he never disrupted his schedule.
And word was his father was also once again in England. Perhaps he would rather spend the day with him than with me?
“Ashton?” Aunt Cecily’s voice drew me out of my musings.
“Hmm? Yes, Aunt?”
“I was going to ask if….”
The door to the sitting room opened, and I looked around to see the butler enter.
“Yes, Colling?”
“Begging your pardon, Sir Ashton. Mr. Stephenson is here.”
“Geo?” But he had just left! Could it be that he’d been missing me as much as I missed him? Had he turned around to come back to me?
“No, sir. Mr. Stephenson, senior.”
My stomach curled into a knot.
“Oh!” Aunt Cecily’s cheeks pinked, and her hands clasped under her chin, and she appeared the lovely girl she had once been. “Where is he, Colling?”
“In the study, m’lady.”
“Why did you not bring him here?”
“As to that, m’lady, Mr. Stephenson said he was desirous of having a word in private with Sir Ashton.”
“Oh?”
“Oh, Aunt Cecy!” Arabella jumped up, knocking the sheet music to the floor. “How absolutely wizard! He’s going to offer for you!”
“We really don’t know that, dear child.” But the sparkle in her eyes made it evident that that was her belief also. “You mustn’t keep Mr. Stephenson waiting, Ashton!”
“Of course not.” I didn’t remind her that in light of her recent bereavement such enthusiasm was not seemly. After all, I missed Sir Eustace as little as she did.
“And you’re to come back and tell us his exact words as soon as may be!” Arabella’s order followed me down the hall.
I made my way to the opposite side of the house to the study. This was what I had been dreading that day shortly after Sir Eustace’s death, that I must needs tell a gentleman old enough to be my father I had to deny his suit, at least at this time. The family was still in first mourning, although Arabella had declared she couldn’t fathom why Aunt Cecily was required to remain in black bombazine for more than a year, while if the situation had been reversed, Sir Eustace would have left off after three months. Aunt Cecily had simply told her to hush; that was the way of society.
I entered the study. “Good evening, Mr. Stephenson.”
“Sir Ashton.” The man standing before the fireplace was my lover’s height, but a good deal stockier. His brown hair was peppered with grey, and his eyes were a cool blue. Geo must have got his eye color from him. “I apologize for
my untimely visit.”
“Not at all, sir. You must know Aunt Cecily is always pleased to see you.” He actually appeared uncomfortable. “That is to say, we keep country hours, and so your visit doesn’t discommode us in the least. Have you dined?”
“Yes, I stopped in Chertsey, at the Whistling Pig. My son recommended the food there. It was quite good.”
“I see. Well, may I offer you a sherry?”
“Delighted.”
I went to the small table that held a tray, decanter, and glasses, and poured him a glass. After giving it a moment’s thought, I poured one for myself. “To your health, sir.”
“Thank you. And to yours also.” We sipped the sherry. “Did your uncle put this up?”
“Yes. Sir Eustace brought home a number of bottles after one of his wine buying trips to the Continent.”
“I will say this for the man,” Mr. Stephenson said grudgingly. “He did know his wines.”
“Indeed.”
He finished his sherry and nodded agreement when I held up the decanter.
I recalled his mention of Geo recommending the Whistling Pig. “I’m sorry to tell you that you missed him.” I refilled his glass.
“Eh? Missed who? I thought the blighter—” He abruptly cleared his throat. “That is to say, your uncle’s been in the ground these past months.”
“He is.”
“Then about whom are you talking?”
“Your son.”
“Good God, George was here? Whatever for?”
“Why… er… to keep Aunt Cecily abreast of your progress, of course.”
“Ah, yes, of course. The boy would have no other call to be here.”
I choked on my sherry. Should I say something about Geo and I becoming friends? I couldn’t see Mr. Stephenson being best pleased about that. But if I said nothing, and Aunt Cecily did…. I wiped my mouth and set my glass aside, feeling a headache coming on. So occupied was I with my thoughts that I missed his next question.
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Has he… has he behaved well toward Cecily?”
“He is always all that is most courteous. Could you doubt that?”