by Dawn Brower
“You could help me groom Oro. I promise he won’t hurt you. There’s no better animal to become acquainted with on this estate than him.”
“I really couldn’t. I should keep an eye on Bethany.” She gestured weakly toward the paddock. “It’s kind of you to offer.”
He took her hand. A warm, firm grip. The touch shocked her.
“Come on.” He gave her hand a gentle tug.
“Oh, very well.” Only because she didn’t want him to let go yet. She so seldom got to hold a man’s hand. And less frequently, the hand of such a handsome man.
Oro pricked his ears when they approached. A low nicker left his throat.
She stopped a few feet away. “This is probably close enough.”
“I’m surprised you’re so afraid. You came here all alone, but you’re going to let a little horse scare you?”
Mr. Nash’s voice had a teasing quality, but it wasn’t enough to send Jayne’s fear away. “That’s different. It was for a job. Horses are another matter. Who can say what goes on inside their minds?”
“That’s easy enough. It’s a trick of learning body language. See Oro? Right now he’s wondering when I’m going to either get back in the saddle or turn him out again. He’s watching us. Curious about our intentions.” Mr. Nash spoke softly. “He wants to meet you.”
“I doubt it.” A slight tremor took over. “You’re being silly. Next you’ll tell me that he told you that.”
“He might have.” Mr. Nash guided her closer. “Let him smell your hand.”
Please don’t let me lose any fingers. Jayne closed her eyes as Mr. Nash pushed her hand close to the horse’s muzzle.
Warm breath and poky whiskers grazed over her skin.
Jayne opened her eyes a fraction. “Is he finished?”
Soft lips wandered over her fingers. Oro snorted, leaving a fine spray of discharge behind, then he pulled his head away.
“Horse slime.” She shook her hand as Mr. Nash laughed.
He pulled a red kerchief from his back pocket. “Here, let me help. Sorry about that. One of the small hazards of introductions.” He cleaned each of her fingers individually.
The small act of kindness made Jayne’s heart race. He was only attempting to help, but the gentle touch made her skin tingle. “Um, yes. We’re introduced. That’s enough for today, don’t you think?”
“Stay there. Let me untack him, then I’ll get a brush. Before the end of the day, I’ll have another suitable groom on my hands.” Mr. Nash proceeded to remove the saddle from Oro’s back.
The horse shook himself when the blanket and the leather came off. He stood patiently, head lowered, ears twitching a bit as he listened to the sounds around the stable yard.
Mr. Nash carried the saddle back to the barn. He returned with brushes, then handed a rectangular one with a smooth handle to Jayne. “This is the curry comb. It loosens dirt from his hair and picks up the hair he’s shedding.”
It weighed heavily in her hand. “He’ll bite me if I hurt him.”
“How many times have you brushed your own hair? It’s the same idea. You’re going to do fine. Start up here by his ears. We’ll do his mane separately with a different brush.”
She gingerly put the curry comb up by Oro’s ear and stroked down. He didn’t fuss, so she repeated the action while Mr. Nash inspected Oro’s hooves. “Should I move on to his shoulders and back?”
Oro perked his ears up at her voice and huffed out a sigh.
“He says yes.” Mr. Nash grinned at her over the animal’s back.
Dust and hair swirled in the air as she progressed and stuck to her plain grey dress. Whoever washed it would likely be furious with her for making such mess. Too late now. She already reeked of horse.
“You’re a natural.” Mr. Nash admired the job she’d done. “Do his hindquarters, and then you can start on the other side.”
“I’d rather not. I don’t like his legs.” She took a step back. “He’ll kick me.”
“Put your hand on his rump. He can see you. He knows you’re there. The hand is a reminder for him. Oro wouldn’t kick unless he was startled or he thought he was in danger.”
She’d have to trust them both. “All right.”
But the gelding barely moved as she took the brush over his hips and down his legs.
She laid her hand on Oro’s rump, then quickly stepped around him.
Mr. Nash nodded at her. “Well done.”
“My skills leave a lot to be desired. I’m better indoors than out.”
“You’ll learn.” He took the curry comb from her and made short work of Oro’s other side.
“I never thought my duties would include learning to groom a horse to please a little girl’s riding instructor. Life is peculiar.”
“That it is. We both wound up here.” Mr. Nash gave her a hard brush. “Set this horse to gleaming.”
“Polish him now.” She laughed. “I thought my station above shining things like silverware and…even horses.” She liked it, a bit. The leather, hay, grassy, sunshine-y, and slight dusty scent of the horse. He looked like a ray of living sunshine with his beautiful golden coat and his whitish mane and tail. Better still, Mr. Nash’s smile made her heart race in a good way. That specific organ might be in a great deal of trouble if she didn’t curb her desires to see him. He would never wish to court a woman like her. Impossible anyway. She couldn’t be courted by a man if she wished to remain here as Bethany’s governess. The lord and lady would be furious if they thought they brought her here and she was only seeking a beau instead of their child’s best interests.
Feelings any deeper than friendship with Mr. Nash were forbidden.
He worked on Oro’s other side with another hard brush. Brows drawn together in concentration, though his olive-colored eyes were soft. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, displaying tanned forearms. Beneath the checkered pattern of his shirt, was the rest of his upper body so tan and muscled?
Her face burned and she ducked her head. She had no business wondering. But what would it be like to have a man look at her the way he looked at his horse? The way Lord Ivers looked at Lizette the day of their wedding?
You’ll be fine as a spinster. When Bethany is old enough to graduate from a governess—and you’ve done your best with her, something to be proud of—you’ll find another governess position. A husband is not necessary for happiness.
“You all right, Miss Strange?” Mr. Nash stared at her, the little furrow between his eyebrows creased. With concern.
“Yes. Very much so. I’m thinking about how best to get Bethany back into her lessons today. She’s a sharp pupil, but easily distracted.”
“Make them all about horses. She’ll be thrilled.”
His rich laughter sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine.
“Did you always love horses, Mr. Nash?”
“I suppose so. My daddy often took me riding before I could walk.” He knocked hair and dust from the brush. “What did you grow up loving?”
Jayne turned her free hand palm up. “Books. They were a rare privilege. I didn’t learn to read until I was almost Bethany’s age. The ones with pictures were my favorites until then. Even an illustration could take me away from the…”
“From what?” He held her gaze.
“I grew up poor. Books helped me forget my empty stomach or the cold or the rain and worst of all, the teasing.” Angry, she backed away from Oro. “I know what I look like and I suppose it’s fortunate I wasn’t born a great beauty, because I would never have earned my place within Lord and Lady Easton’s household. It’s foolish to be upset about it.” Yet, it still hurt.
Mr. Nash stopped grooming Oro. “Who told you that you’re not a great beauty?”
Tears blurred her vision. “I don’t know. Everyone, I suppose. It’s obvious in the way men overlook me. Women have a way of looking at other women—the ones they are not impressed by—and I’ve been subject to those looks in some of the most beautiful ballrooms in Lo
ndon.”
“Measuring worth by beauty is a stupid way to do things. Oro is beautiful, but he wouldn’t be worth a lick if he didn’t perform the duties I taught him.” His mouth tightened. “You really believe what those trussed up peacocks think has any bearing on the kind of person you are?”
“I am what they made me. Educated, thank heavens for that. If I can’t be a wife, at least I don’t have to be a chambermaid.”
“Remember, you could be out on the street.” Lady Easton’s sharp voice was like a pinprick. “Disease-riddled, dead, or worse.”
Even from a young age, she’d known if she’d remained at the orphan home, she might have been forced into prostitution eventually. No matter how cruelly the peerage treated her, she hadn’t been forced into that.
“But would you be happier if you’d never been introduced to the masters who trampled you and told you that you were only there to make their daughter seem prettier?”
Defeated by the conversation, her shoulders slumped and her spirit flagged. “I don’t know.”
“Camprich hired you sight-unseen. He did it because of the letter Lady Easton wrote. Not because he saw plainness. To be honest, he likely didn’t care what you looked like as long as you were capable of teaching his daughter. They might be off on holiday doing whatever the wealthy do, but make no mistake, they dote on Bethany. They want the best for her, no matter the cost. You were the best they found. Lady Easton handed you a weapon—that education you’re so proud of. Perhaps she didn’t buy you a beau as she did for her daughter, but you ought to thank her for that.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re free to travel England earning a wage and doing whatever you want with it. You’re not tied down with some boring English aristocrat. Forced to go to balls where you know people aren’t impressed with you.”
“I think you’ve missed the point.”
“What?”
“I would like a family. I don’t care for being alone. It would be nice to have someone to share my life with. A husband, children, family. Don’t you miss yours?”
His expression darkened and closed in. “I don’t have a family.”
“No one left in Texas to return home to.” She’d forgotten. “Don’t you get lonely?”
“I have work here to keep me busy. Excuse me. I’m going to turn Oro out.” He left the brush by the tying post, then released the knot holding his horse there. The pair left for the paddock.
She’d offended him. His loose lifestyle without ties meant something to him that she couldn’t fathom. Where she’d give anything to get the family she wanted, clearly he chose to run as far from close connections as he could get. So far, that he’d left his own country to escape.
I’m no better. She’d taken a job away from everyone she knew to leave behind what the peerage thought of her. She’d exiled herself to the country for fear of being called ugly. Whatever reasons had caused Mr. Nash to leave America—reasons he chose not to disclose—must be even worse than hers.
Chapter 4
The Highwayman's Club was tucked away off the main road through Upper Enggate, a squat, dark building where men went to drink without worry their womenfolk would come searching. No decent woman would come near the place. The old scents of beer, wood smoke, and tobacco were evident long before a patron reached the door.
Once, it might have been a quaint building with scroll work trim that had long ago lost its paint. The windows were covered in years of grime and mildew had settled where the paint wasn’t gone. Overgrown holly bushes nearly obscured the doorway on both sides. If not for the glow of lamps within, it might have been mistaken as an abandoned house.
Not a pleasant place to look at, but the drinks were plentiful. Fletcher slid onto a stool at the bar. The wood was worn smooth from years of visitors. He’d been here often enough to feel as though he wasn’t an outsider any longer.
Ade Clark, The Highwayman’s Club owner, nodded at Fletcher. “Get you a beer, mate?”
“Sounds good.” Fletcher removed his hat, then laid it on the bar. The smell of horse surrounded him, but was muted by spilled beer and the cloy of tobacco. “How’s your missus, Ade?”
“Cranky as a bear. Going to have that fourth little one any day now.” Ade grinned. “We’ll all be glad when it’s here.”
Fletcher dug his short nails into his palm. “Good luck to all of you.”
“How are the baron’s horses comin’?” Ade, six and a half feet tall if he was an inch, loomed behind the bar like an oak. He wore the build of a man better suited to shoeing horses than draped in an apron. Hair trimmed to a sheen of fuzz on his big skull had gone grey, but the goatee he wore still ran solid black. An anchor tattooed on his forearm led credence to time in the navy. The tattoo on the opposite arm was a woman’s name, blurred from time, though readable. Marion, it read in fancy script.
“About half of them are still lousy. It’s almost as though he bought the ones that don’t want to learn. They want to eat grass all day and would as soon kick you as look at you. I’ve never seen such stubborn beasts.” Fletcher ran his hand through his hair. “Why anyone would leave horses to their own devices for years is beyond me.”
“Because that simple-minded jackdaw Camprich hired before you sat back and drew his wages. Without the lord watching over him, he let the whole place run into the ground. Horses included. Never thought I’d see the day when the lady talked Lord Camprich into leavin’ again.” Ade slid a mug of beer to Fletcher.
“After only a year. She must be persuasive.” He waited for the foamy head to drop down before he took a drink.
“Lady Camprich gets what she wants. That comes as no surprise. She’s strong-minded. It says a lot about you that he left you in charge of his stables.”
“He picked me out, I didn’t come to him.” Why on earth Camprich had selected him from all the men in the world to manage a bunch of unruly thoroughbreds was beyond him. But the decision had probably saved his life.
“Heard he hired a new governess for the little poppet.” Ade wiped dust from the bottles of liquor on the wall. “You meet her yet?”
“Impossible not to. Bethany’s down at the stables every day. The governess tags along like a lost dog. Probably doesn’t realize she’s not there to guard Bethany day and night.”
“Keeps both of them out of trouble.” Ade laughed. “She pretty?”
Fletcher started. “Pretty? Not like Camprich’s wife. There’s nothing aristocratic about her. She dresses rich enough, but she’s only slightly above a servant.”
“That didn’t tell me a damn thing, mate.”
“Why do you care? You’re married.”
“Just curious. She pretty enough that you’ve got an eye on her and don’t want to tell the rest of us?” Ade winked.
He took a long drink of beer, emptied the mug. Once he’d tried to drown his sorrows in it. The effort had only made him sick and mean and useless. “Not in the market.”
“Some people are better off as bachelors. Don’t blame you for enjoyin’ the baron’s hospitality while you can. No hassle of runnin’ your own place. Just do your work and draw your wages. Easy as pie.” He gestured at the empty mug. “You want another?”
“Whisky.”
Ade’s eyebrows went up. “You sure?”
“Tonight, yes. I may regret it in the morning.”
Ade shrugged. “Very well. I’ll leave the bottle, eh?”
“Sounds good.”
Ade dropped a small glass and a bottle on the smooth bar. “You need anything else, give me a shout.”
Fletcher needed less time alone with his thoughts. Less time to recall his past. Miss Strange offered a respite. Her story about the kind of people who’d essentially hired her to make their daughter look pretty rubbed him wrong. Who could be so cruel to a child? To give her the ultimatum of standing in another girl’s shadow or end up on the streets?
He poured himself a shot. He spent far too much time dwelling on Miss Strange’s
problems. The drink burned as it went down his throat. Warmth exploded in his middle. Though Miss Strange wasn’t a great beauty, she intrigued him. Her face lit up when she smiled. Plain in appearance, she hardly had a personality to match. She’d grown bolder around his horse and it was clear she enjoyed the simple task he’d given her. Someday he might actually get her on Oro’s back.
His next shot went down smoother. He turned the shot glass between his thumb and fingers. The few remaining drops of liquor in it were the color of Roslyn’s eyes.
His Rosalyn, she’d never been afraid of horses. Of anything. She would wholeheartedly approve of his journey to England—even if it was to forget rather than to enjoy a new place. Like Miss Strange, Rosalyn would have loved Bethany and her fearlessness when it came to the horses.
“You all right, Fletch?”
He jerked his head up at Ade’s voice. “Hmm?”
“You been starin’ into that empty glass for a good ten minutes.”
“I should get going.” He dug in his pocket for change, then dropped it on the bar. “See you.”
Ade made no move to collect the change. “You all right to find your way home?”
“I’ll be fine. Oro knows the way.” The journey wasn’t long. Less time than he’d spent drinking tonight. All he had to do was get his leg up over the horse’s back. Oro would take care of the rest. He stumbled outside where the horse waited.
Oro snorted and gave him a long look, but didn’t move as Fletcher fumbled his way into the saddle.
He let Oro have the reins, but the horse walked along the road at a slow pace. Roslyn and Miss Strange flitted in and out of Fletcher’s mind. They’d both be disappointed in him for drinking. It solved nothing and only served to make him tired, nauseous, and cranky in the mornings.
He shouldn’t have left Miss Strange in the stable yard so abruptly. Her sudden mention of family upset him. The moments when he couldn’t control his grief were few and far between, but her whimsical wish for someone to share her life with were too much for him today. She meant well, but he’d taken it poorly. His fault, not hers.