Two sturdy footmen wheeled chairs occupied by the Earl of Rutledge and his countess into the dining room. Miles crossed immediately to Lady Rutledge, acknowledged the Earl of Rutledge with a nod, “Lord Rutledge,” and offered Eleanor’s mother his arm. “Good evening, Lady Rutledge. I’m pleased you and Lord Rutledge will be joining us. I was disappointed not to be able to stay previously but…business called. May I help you to a chair at the table?”
She offered him the sweetest of smiles. “Good evening, Lord Miles. Rutledge and I are delighted you are back in residence.” She patted his forearm and confided, “We have decided to take dinner with you and Eleanor as often as our health allows.” She indicated an armchair at the end of the cozy dining table set for four persons. “Just there, please.” Miles helped her into the chair while a footman assisted the Earl into his place at the opposing end.
“Eleanor?” He offered her an arm and seated her before a footman pulled out the remaining chair for him.
As the dinner courses were served and removed, the Earl directed the conversation to Fairwood with an initial inquiry. “Eleanor tells us that you have been attending to a recently purchased property in Newmarket.”
“Yes, I acquired the old Woodward farm from Lord Marlburl. Perhaps you know of it? Lord Marlburl is one of your contemporaries, I believe.”
The Earl harrumphed. “Know the property and him well. The old fox got the better of me…” and marched off into a humorous complaint about how Marlburl had refused to sell Day Dreamer back to Rutledge. Miles looked across the table at a stricken Eleanor.
When the Earl ended his story, before Miles could draw a breath, she blurted, “I don’t suppose you ever got my letter thanking you for your exceedingly thoughtful and much-appreciated bride gift.”
He shook his head with a slight smile.
“I wrote to you immediately, but…” Her face transformed with demonstrable joy. “I adore her. I don’t know how you could have given her up. Would you like to join me for the morning workouts? Watch her and the rest of the mob train?”
“It would please me greatly.”
“We keep very early hours. We try to have the horses out by 6:00 a.m.”
“I will require coffee. Large amounts of strong, black coffee.”
Eleanor’s eyes lit with humor. “I’ll tell Cook.”
The Earl regained Miles attention by asking, “Is it your intent to stay permanently at Rutledge? Or will you take up residence at the Woodward farm? I should call it Fairwood, I suppose. Eleanor says you have renamed it.”
Miles glanced at Eleanor, but her intense engagement in tearing an innocent dinner roll into dozens of pieces of a size to feed a love bird gave him no indication as to how she wished him to answer. “My intention is to reside at Rutledge Manor for the foreseeable future.”
“Excellent. I would like to share some of my thoughts on the operation of the estate and prospective changes I had wanted to implement going forward.”
“I will welcome any insight you can provide, Lord Rutledge,” Miles said. Lady Rutledge sat quietly and beamed—as she had done from the beginning of their meal.
Eleanor considered him from across the table, the beginnings of apprehension in her gaze.
“Eleanor has done a capital job of administering Rutledge, but now that she is married, it is natural and appropriate that, you, as her husband, should assume the administration of the estate. That said, you will need assistance conducting the affairs of a property this large. As you take on the burden of the day-to-day operations of Rutledge, don’t hesitate to lean on Eleanor. She will be of the greatest help to you. Won’t you, m’dear?”
“Ummm… yes, of course, Father.” Eleanor shot Miles a wary glance and then dropped her gaze to her plate, stabbing fitfully at a Brussels sprout.
“I suggest you and I meet several times a week in my study to review existing practices and potential areas for improvement. We can begin tomorrow at 2:00.”
“I will place myself at your service, Lord Rutledge,” Miles said.
After the Earl’s announcement, Lady Rutledge directed the conversation to a multitude of innocent topics. They chatted politely until the dessert course was finished and both the earl and his countess pled fatigue and retired to bed. Miles had risen out of politeness as Lady Rutledge left the dining room. Afterward, he rounded the table to help Eleanor from her chair, and as she stood, she addressed him from over her shoulder.
“My mother is high in alt because you are here. Does every woman who crosses your path fall in love with you on the instant?”
With a crooked smile, Miles returned Eleanor’s sharp question with an equally direct response. “No. Present company a case in point.” He pushed her chair back to the table as she turned to face him.
Eleanor visibly wilted. “I’m sorry. I deserved that set down. I didn’t mean to sound so… snappish.” She sighed. “It must be nice to woo total strangers to your side so effortlessly. It’s not an ability I’ve ever had.” Her expression softened. “I envy you. You’ve not been here twelve hours, and you’ve already won over my both my parents.”
Both his eyebrows rose. “I’ve won over your father?”
“Oh, yes. He grumps and huffs, but he respects you. As you heard, you will have the management of Rutledge.” She appeared stricken.
“Eleanor,” he paused thoughtfully. “I win people over because I must. Until your unexpected offer, my continuing welfare depended upon my being universally agreeable. It was an attribute I took pains to cultivate, but it is not easy to hold onto one’s self when you must always contort your speech and behavior to what is most pleasing to those around you. You say you envy me? Well, I envy you.” At her surprised expression, he smiled wryly. “When was the last time you withheld your opinion because speaking would offend those in your company? When was the last time you had to give any thought whatsoever to your speech? You say you are blunt to a fault as if that were always a bad thing. I should rather say that you lack pretense, and you don’t dissemble. You are honest and genuine. In my eyes, those are admirable qualities.”
She frowned as though the concept was foreign to her. “But your circumstances have changed dramatically, and you are still…” Her arms made vague gestures in the air as she searched for words.
“I have fallen into the habit of being congenial. Civility does smooth one’s way.”
“Then I am doomed to a rocky path.” She sighed. “Would you like to adjourn to the library? I can offer you ink and paper to write to the Prince Regent’s agent and also give whatever directions you think necessary to your steward at Fairwood. I’m certain you will want your man here with the rest of your things.”
His lips canted in a crooked smile. “I am practicing certain economies and have not engaged a valet at Fairwood. I would like to continue with Mr. Hopwood if it does not create inconvenience.”
“Of course, if he suits.”
“I will need my clothes, and I suppose I should tell Maman to run the house as she wills and to send me the accounts. My steward, Mr. Weldon, is wholly competent to carry on without me and if truth be known, would prefer not to see me at present.” Miles answered Eleanor’s look of inquiry with a wrinkled brow and a twist of his mouth. “He took the loss of Day Dreamer rather hard.”
“The poor man. I sympathize completely, but you cannot have her back.”
“I’m glad you like her, and thank you for keeping Jemmy.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course I kept him, as you well knew I would. I should have felt as if I’d devastated his young life for all time had I separated the two.”
Miles threw his head back and laughed. “Heinous indeed… and Eleanor… I agreed to meet with your father as it was the respectful thing to do. It is not my intention to supplant you or interfere in your management of Rutledge.”
She looked vastly relieved.
He offered his arm. “Shall we go compose letters?”
“It seems your schemes and machin
ations might come to fruition, Rutledge.” The Countess lifted her eyes from the letter she read and gazed at her adored husband across the width of both their beds. “Julia writes that Eleanor’s affections are decidedly engaged, and she is quite certain, as evidenced by the gift of the three-year-old filly, that Miles is far from indifferent.” She turned to face him fully. “Now we must make them see it.” Her aged face saddened and her eyes welled with unshed tears. “I absolutely forbid you to die before we see Eleanor and Miles settled happily. I forbid it. Do you hear me, Rutledge?”
“Yes, Lady Rutledge, I hear you.” Her husband closed his eyes and released a long sigh. “I shall speak with the Almighty about accommodating you.”
She settled back with a shaky breath and a small sniffle. “I can’t think why He wouldn’t. It’s a small thing to ask.”
Chapter Fourteen
“H
ere they come! Dreamer and Cinsyr! Oh! Look! Look! She has him by a nose!” Eleanor so forgot herself in her excitement that she grabbed Miles’ upper arm and shook him as she jumped up and down. “Isn’t she splendid, Miles! Isn’t she simply splendid?” His rich laughter met her ears, and she felt him take her hand, but she didn’t dare take her eyes from the two horses streaking toward them, urged on at every step by the slight men on their backs.
Sleek coats and rippling muscles thundered by not six feet from where they stood; clods of turf the size of her palm flew at them, sliced from the earth by the Thoroughbreds’ churning hooves. Within moments the black tail and the chestnut tail disappeared in the heavy morning mist that obscured anything beyond a quarter mile. She could hear the faint voices of the exercise boys pulling up the filly and the young stallion with steady, “Whoa there, missy…whoa,” and “Easy there, lad… go easy.”
“Yes, she is glorious. They both are. Tell me about the black,” Miles said.
As she watched for the two horses to reappear, she gave Miles chapter and verse on the two-year-old Rutledge stallion that had made such a name for himself in the short time he’d been racing.
“Impressive record.”
“Yes. Cinsyr is one of the last of Absalom’s foals. We lost the old man this past fall to colic. He will be hard to replace, but I’m hoping one of his sons, Dare To Dream, will be Rutledge’s future.”
“Well, if Day Dreamer is any indication of the quality of his offspring, I believe he will stand to a full book. It would be useful to see if you could find more of those Old Codger mares.”
Eleanor nodded. “I’ve been trying. So far, I only know the whereabouts of two, the mare at Fairwood and one in Scotland, of all places. I’ve meant to ask you about a re-breeding.” She chattered happily with Miles about other possible crosses on Dare until a chestnut and black materialized out of the fog followed closely by Charles Fedder mounted on his familiar brown gelding.
From their equine perches, the two exercise boys were laughing and jabbering back and forth.
“Don’t get all top lofty, ya little toad. Cin woulda had ya in another eighth of a mile.”
“You’ve daft and blind, Henry. The lass led him by a head and was gaining ground afore we pulled up.”
Eleanor laughed along with them. “Well, I doubt we’ll match them again anytime soon. Fedder wanted to see them together to give Dreamer a challenge, see how she’d react to being pushed.” As she spoke, her gaze flew to her unsmiling trainer. “Well, Mr. Fedder?”
His gaze swung to the two exercise boys walking their charges in circles around their small group. “You lads get Cin and Dreamer cooled off and put away right. I’ll be by to check on them later.” He returned his attention to Eleanor and held up his stopwatch. “Time tells the tale, my lady.” She detected an air of satisfaction about his sober person. “I believe we should run her in the Welborn Cup as a prep race for the Derby.” His gaze settled on Miles. “If you concur, my lord. You’ve more experience with her than we do.”
“Two months more experience.” Miles laughed. “I still find it hard to believe you want her in the Derby where she’ll have to run against colts and not the Oaks where she’ll run against her sex.” Miles shrugged. “As a rule, at three years old, stallions have greater physical development than fillies, but Dreamer has given me no reason to think she couldn’t hold her own. Strength does not always equate to speed, and her times indicate she could win against colts. The distance at the Welborn Cup is good for her, and the field shouldn’t be too challenging.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “She could use the extra practice at the starter’s tape. If you are set on that, I see no reason to object.”
“I’ll see to it, then. My lord. My lady.” Fedder tipped his cap, and she and Miles watched him trot after the two youngsters, barking a continuing stream of instruction to their riders before she returned her attention to Miles and responded to his question.
“I am set on it. The Derby is more prestigious and for a filly to win against colts will capture the race world’s attention. Dare will have the highest quality mares for his book. Besides, she’s one of the rare females who could win the Epsom Derby. She deserves the opportunity to put her name in the history books.” Exuberance welled inside her, and she wrapped her arms around herself to contain her joy. Her gaze found and held that of her handsome husband. The upwelling of happiness expanded to include the facilitator of her joy. “Miles, thank you—again. It has been my most longstanding and heartfelt desire to win the Derby with a homebred filly.”
She looked away, somewhat embarrassed by what she planned to confess to him. “My father named me after a horse.” At Miles’ bark of amused disbelief, she looked back quickly and held up an admonishing finger while holding in check a smile of her own. “But! She was a very special horse, the only filly ever to win the Epsom Derby. Her name was Eleanor.” She hemmed and hawed. “I have never told that to anyone other than you for the very reasons writ large across your face.”
“I admit to initial shock that your mother agreed, but upon further thought... your father is horse mad and your mother adoring.” His grey eyes sparkled with humor as he shrugged. “Your secret is safe with me, Lady Eleanor.”
She linked her arm through his, thoroughly happy with the world at large, and sauntered toward the top of the rise, pulling Miles’ solid body along with her. Not even the thought of another night lying stiffly next to him, attentive to his every twitch, could ruin her mood. “Come along, Lord Miles, we have some two-year-olds to observe. It will be the first time for them to run in company and then it’s on to the broodmares and foals. After lunch, I believe Father expects you. I’ll change and leave the two of you to maunder on while I go into the village to speak with a man about drainage tiles. He wishes to establish a business making them in Stelton. Apparently, we ‘have good dirt.’ As his landlady, I must attend to estate affairs.” She crossed her eyes and made a face. “Such is the elegant life of a lady of leisure.”
His arm shook with silent laughter. “A lady of leisure? Indeed, I thought some young lad, the son of a gamekeeper perhaps, had wandered into our rooms this morning. Imagine my surprise when upon further inspection that youth turned out to be none other than my lady wife.”
“I find breeches and boots practical when out in the fields, and I vastly prefer riding astride. It is a more secure and balanced seat.”
“I was not voicing criticism, merely making an observation.”
She slowed and eyed him sideways. “So, you’ve no objection to my masculine attire?”
“None whatsoever. You needn’t wear a pretty frock for me to find you a desirable woman.”
She came to a halt and stared at the back of his head as he kept walking. He thought her desirable? She stumbled after him. For the second time in twenty-four hours, he’d stripped her of speech. Happily, by the time they reached the observation point for the two-year-olds, she’d recovered her wits and could tell him about each of the horses that worked out below.
Eleanor and her accompanying groom rode back into the courtyard o
f Rutledge Manor by the light of the moon set high in the sky. It seemed there was much more to drainage tiles than she had first assumed, and her appointment had run until considerably past dinner. As she’d been in the village closest to her home, she’d sent a message to advise Miles and her mother and father not to wait dinner on her.
Swinging her right leg off the horn of the sidesaddle and kicking off the left stirrup, she faced sideways and slid lightly off her horse. With a twitch of her long skirts, she handed Mouse off to Toby with a smile and a nod of thanks. “See you in the morning, Toby. Sleep well.”
“My lady.” Toby tipped his cap and walked off, leading both their mounts.
She stood in the courtyard, skirt in hand, and gazed at the entrance doors to the manor both eager and hesitant to enter her own home. He was there. No light shone from either the first or second floor, but she couldn’t ascribe too much to that as her apartments were in the rear. Drawing in a deep breath, Eleanor straightened her spine, put her shoulders back and climbed the steps to the oak doors. As if possessed of some higher magic, the door on the right opened for her, and she swept in.
“Thank you, Jeffers.” She paused. “Still on Lady of the Lake?”
“Yes, my lady. I must confess I find the poetry hard going. I prefer Ivanhoe.”
“So you said. Well, persevere.” With a smile, she proceeded to climb the stairs to the second floor and nodded to the night hallboy seated there. “Good evening, Rowland, has Lord Miles retired?”
“Yes, ma’am. Shall I ring down for Miss Conway?”
“Yes, I would appreciate that. Thank you.”
She slipped into the sitting room and closed the door quietly behind her. The door to the bedchamber that she now shared with Miles stood ajar. A faint gold glow outlined it in the door casing. He was still up. A light rap alerted her to Sally’s entrance. Her personal maid bobbed an abbreviated curtsy and moved to her. “My lady?”
A Husband for Hire (The Heirs & Spares Series Book 1) Page 14