Granted, Mr. Whitworth wasn’t a true gentleman like the ones she would be considering for marriage, but he was a man who, from all appearances, had been raised in a similar fashion. Would he have advice she could use? “Has Mr. Whitworth departed yet?”
“No, ma’am,” Owen said with a shake of his head. “Haven’t seen Lord Stildon yet this morning either.”
Owen expertly guided Hestia up to a fence and leaned down to open the gate into Hawksworth’s fields. “Mr. Knight says to act like he’s always there, since he could come in at any moment.”
He shrugged as he backed up his horse to allow Bianca and Odysseus through the gate first. “Doesn’t make any matter to me, as I do my best by the horses anyhow.”
Bianca smothered a grin. Owen might do his best by the horses, but his other work could certainly be questioned. He always seemed to do more lurking than working. “You do a fine job with the horses, Owen.”
It was all she could do to keep her horse at a walk as they made their way back to the stable. Now that she had a glimmer of hope that there was a solution to her problem, she was anxious to get back to the stable and put her idea in motion.
Mr. Whitworth might not be willing to help her, but he was her best chance. She’d offered to help Lord Stildon accustom himself to English traditions, but that had been more to give her a reason to seek him out and spend time with him than any true intention to help him.
If Mr. Whitworth could tell her how to use that time more wisely, she might be able to still attain her original goal.
“What sent you tearing across the Heath this morning?” Owen leaned forward in the saddle to look beneath the brim of Bianca’s hat. “I know the others think I don’t understand people, but I know a ride of frustration when I see one.” The man straightened, and deep grooves formed around his mouth as he pressed his lips into a grim line. “I don’t like seeing you frustrated. I like you. You always treat the horses well, even when you’re upset.”
“Thank you,” Bianca mumbled. She could hardly pour her heart out to Owen. Though he was male, he wasn’t even on the fringes of propriety. At least Mr. Whitworth had attended schools and knew how to behave in polite society.
“Roger says when a man rides a horse hard, there’s usually a woman behind the whip. Is it the same for women? Have you got a man causing you grief?”
Imagining the gruff, grumpy groom muttering such a quip through his scruffy dark beard made Bianca smile. “No, Owen, there’s not a man causing problems for me.”
It was the lack of a man that was causing her issue.
“Oh.” He looked at somewhat of a loss. “What is it for women, then?”
“I think,” she said slowly, trying to give the man’s question honest consideration, “that a woman would probably ride hard to get away from another woman as well. The problem is in a different capacity, of course, but that doesn’t mean we don’t know how to make trouble for each other.”
Another woman was the crux of Bianca’s issues anyway. Mrs. Snowley had the ability to make Bianca’s life truly difficult. Until this morning, Bianca’s life had been a well-ordered, easy existence. She avoided her stepmother as much as possible, which allowed her father to continue in the blissful belief that everything was as it should be, and Bianca herself then ordered her days in a most enjoyable manner. Even her decision to marry had been her own.
All of that was now threatened.
“Makes you women sound like a great deal of trouble,” Owen said with a tone of bafflement as they arrived at the stable. He smoothly dismounted before tying Hestia to a post and then assisting Bianca down. Once her feet were on the ground, he gave her shoulder an awkward pat. “I think you’re one of the good ones.”
But was she good enough to get a husband quickly? She knew plenty of gentlemen, and none of them had ever offered for her. Still, she managed a smile for Owen’s benefit. “Thank you.”
He flushed red from his neck to his fuzzy, mussed hairline and then took Hestia into the stable for a rubdown. Bianca took Odysseus by the reins and followed with a slow shake of her head.
She tied Odysseus in his stall and rubbed behind his ear. He gave a brief whuffle and bumped his head into her shoulder. At least she knew what this male wanted from her.
“Good morning.” Mr. Whitworth appeared in the stable, approached Odysseus’s stall, and began unbuckling the saddle. “Did you have a good ride?”
“Hmmm.” Bianca scratched behind the horse’s ear once more. She should question the manager as to why he’d spent the night at Hawksworth, but she had something else to ask him before she lost her nerve. “Have you ever been courting, Mr. Whitworth?”
“I don’t think we’d suit that well, Miss Snowley.” Mr. Whitworth gave her a crooked grin, though the face around it looked somewhat hardened. “But I’m flattered you’d think about it.”
“Not courting me.” She shook her head, trying and failing to find a bit of indignation. Surely he’d thought to turn that charm on a young lady at some point, hadn’t he? “I meant, have you ever considered courting in general?”
He shrugged and adjusted his hold on the saddle. “I suppose every man’s thought of it in a general sense, but I’ve never met a young lady worth changing my life over.”
Bianca frowned. “Is that how you view it? Is that how all men see it?”
For her whole life, marriage and family had simply been an extension of the life she was already living. If men saw it differently, though, she had more of a challenge before her than she’d thought.
“I can’t speak for men of your ilk, Miss Snowley.”
Bianca snapped her gaze from where her finger was tracing one of Odysseus’s spots to take in Mr. Whitworth’s countenance. Had she inadvertently insulted him? Did she owe him an apology?
The man was grinning at her, though, and this time it looked far more natural than it had moments before. “There’s a fair difference between me and, say, Lord Stildon. Why don’t you ask him?”
Ask Lord Stildon when previously she’d been plotting how to become his choice of bride? She thought not. She shook her head and turned her focus back to Odysseus. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to ask Lord Stildon.”
“Ask me what?”
Fourteen
Hudson glanced from Miss Snowley to Aaron and back to Miss Snowley again, a sense of unease crawling up his spine with each passing moment.
Aaron was looking at the ceiling, a saddle held to his chest and his lips pressed tightly together, while Miss Snowley’s face grew ever pinker as she stared intently at the horse’s black mane.
“Ask me what?” Hudson repeated.
Aaron’s attention dropped from the ceiling to Hudson as he gave a small shrug. “Miss Snowley wants to know how men decide it’s time to court a woman.”
Her head snapped up, the flush on her cheeks growing to a bright red. Hudson was rather afraid his face might be heating to match.
“I did not say that,” she muttered.
Aaron gave another shrug. “It’s what you meant. I’ve never courted a woman, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t spent any time around them.” He edged past Hudson and out of the stall. “I think I’ll put this saddle away now.”
Oh no he wasn’t. The man was not going to drop this on Hudson and then slink away. He stepped sideways and blocked Aaron’s exit. “I think one of the grooms could manage that, don’t you?” He flagged down one of the men from the previous day’s dancing lesson and gestured to the saddle. Without a word, the young man nodded and relieved Aaron of the burden.
Aaron sighed but leaned against the stall dividing wall, one booted foot crossing over the other at the ankle, while his arms crossed over his chest.
“Now.” Hudson cleared his throat and tried to look like he was in charge instead of utterly confused. “What is going on here?”
Aaron nodded toward Miss Snowley. “Your courting expert has questions.”
“I taught him to dance. I never said anything ab
out courting.” Miss Snowley snatched up a currycomb and began working it along Odysseus’s side.
“One’s part of the other.”
Hudson picked up another comb and slid into the stall opposite Miss Snowley to work on the horse’s other side. Perhaps if he were busy this would be less awkward. “Why the sudden need to know about . . . courting?”
In his exceptionally limited experience, men decided to court a woman because it was advantageous to do so. Cold, perhaps, but true as far as he knew it.
She dropped backward to lean against the feeding trough. The horse nudged her shoulder before returning to the hay. “My stepmother has decided I need to marry. My father has noticed his daughters don’t get the same treatment and admonished her for it. I fear she’s afraid other people will think ill of her if my sister marries before I do. My stepmother can make my life difficult if I don’t follow her wishes.”
Aaron grunted. “I never thought having no one care about me could be a blessing. I do know something of being the unwanted older half-sibling, though.”
“Oh my, I’m so sorry,” Miss Snowley said, straightening away from the wall. “You’re right, of course. My situation really isn’t all that bad. I should be grateful.”
“I think that’s the opposite of what I said,” Aaron murmured, taking the comb from her and working on the horse. He looked over the horse’s back and met Hudson’s gaze. “And women think men are confusing.”
Hudson didn’t know what to make of the entire conversation. Something about it bothered him on a very personal level. That he should feel even a mild anger on this woman’s behalf confused him. Yes, Miss Snowley had been one of the first people he’d met in England, certainly one of the first who had been anything of a friend, but he didn’t really know her well.
“Has she indicated that she has someone in mind for you?” Aaron asked.
“Mr. Theophilus Mead.”
Aaron froze, the comb mid-circle on the horse’s back. “You would die married to that man.”
The low rumble of anger spiked within Hudson, and he leaned closer. He vaguely remembered meeting a man of that name but couldn’t remember any sort of particular impression. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing,” Miss Snowley said quickly, just as Aaron said, “Everything.”
Aaron shook his head. “You’re a top sawyer when it comes to riding, Miss Snowley. You respect the horses, so you could never respect Mr. Mead, and he would never forgive you for that.”
“I’m well aware,” Miss Snowley said, a smile pushing at the side of her lips and a brassy note to her voice that clashed in Hudson’s ears. “That’s why I’ve decided I need to find another man to marry.” She gave a delicate shrug. “Problem solved. We can stop discussing it now.”
Aaron smirked. “If that decision solved the problem, you wouldn’t have asked about courtship in the first place.”
“I could help you.” No one looked more stunned by Hudson’s statement than he himself. He was the last person who could help Miss Snowley. Not only was he completely out of his element while navigating English society, he didn’t even know anyone not currently standing in this stable.
Still, he couldn’t allow her to be forced into a terrible match, could he? He rubbed harder at the horse. “I mean, it is only fair that I help you since you are helping me.”
“I’m not helping you.” She straightened, her thin nose pointing higher into the air. “I helped you. We have no ongoing agreement.”
“Perhaps we should.” The more he considered it, the more the idea had merit. “I’m sure to rub shoulders with some of the men you say are going to be coming to town to try to gain Lady Rebecca’s attention. Perhaps I could steer a few your way. Once you find one you like, you can ask Whitworth if he’s worthy of riding a carriage pony.”
“How did I become part of this?” Aaron asked.
“I certainly don’t know which men she should avoid.”
“I’m beginning to think ‘all of them’ is the appropriate answer,” Miss Snowley muttered.
Aaron looked hard at Hudson before turning his attention to the woman next to him, whose head was bent so that all Hudson could see was the plumes of feathers extending from her riding hat.
When Aaron’s attention came back to Hudson, there was something in his expression that Hudson couldn’t identify. “I’ll do it.”
“What, exactly, is it you are doing?” Miss Snowley asked, trying to cram her hands onto her hips in the tight confines of the stall but bumping an elbow into Odysseus instead. She patted the horse and murmured an apology.
“You keep me from making a social misstep and I drop your name in conversation.” Hudson thought it a rather perfect plan.
“I’m not socially inept, you know.” Miss Snowley’s glare narrowed at Hudson, her brown eyes almost disappearing. “I rather think you need me more than I need you.”
“That’s true.” Hudson shrugged.
Aaron chuckled.
Miss Snowley jerked back. “Have you no pride?”
Probably too much, which was why he wanted so badly to prove to everyone that he could and would make a success of this stable. It wasn’t enough to know his own abilities. If everyone else knew them too, his life would be easier, and he would have far more respect in town.
And he would be able to go to sleep knowing he was living up to the legacy his father had raised him for.
Sometimes it was necessary to choose where one gave his pride away in order to salvage it elsewhere.
Still, he had enough pride not to want her to know that. “I believe I dropped it in the ocean on the way from India.” There was some truth to that. He’d certainly been humbled while casting his accounts overboard. “I’ll add to the purse. Not only will I help you find a respectable gentleman to marry so you can thwart your evil stepmother, but if you help me marry the woman I need, at the end of the racing season, I’ll let you ride Hades.”
“What?” she breathed.
“What?” Aaron nearly yelled.
The echo of the word through the stable was not simply the manager’s yell bouncing off the stone walls. Hudson really needed to remember that no discussion in this stable was truly private.
Miss Snowley licked her lips and wrapped a hand in Odysseus’s mane. “You’re proposing that I spend time with you, teaching you about Newmarket society?”
Hudson nodded. That was a strange way to phrase it, but it was the same idea. “And I’ll help you know what men are thinking.”
She swallowed hard. “I’ll do it.”
“Excellent.” Finally Hudson felt like he was taking control of his life here in England instead of simply floundering from one confusing encounter to the next. “We can begin tonight.” He thought of the invitation Aaron had separated from the pile of mail. “Did you receive an invitation to the Wainbrights’ card party?”
“Mrs. Snowley probably did.”
Hudson glanced at Aaron.
“Don’t look at me.” He held both hands up. “I don’t get invited to anything.”
It briefly crossed Hudson’s mind to wonder if the lack of invitations bothered the man, but he’d said he had friends, so perhaps he just led a different social life than Hudson’s should be. Could be. Would be.
“You’ll come riding with us tomorrow, then.”
“I will?”
“He will?”
Honestly, why did these two question each of Hudson’s statements? Didn’t they see the obvious? Was he the smartest of the three of them?
“Yes. You mentioned that it’s public knowledge that Miss Snowley rides here, so it will draw no concern if she’s seen riding with us. I may not know everything about English society, but I do know three are more proper than two.”
Aaron snorted. “And you think I make a proper chaperon?”
“I think I trust you.” A truer statement might never have been uttered. Hudson was placing his trust in these two people for nearly everything. If they steered him w
rong, it was possible Hudson’s reputation would never recover and he’d spend the rest of his life on the outside looking in.
He prayed he wasn’t being foolish.
BIANCA SPENT THE ENTIRE WALK home alternating between pondering the wisdom of this new agreement with Lord Stildon and contemplating how she was going to invite herself along to the card party without making Mrs. Snowley suspicious.
By the time she passed her father’s small, mostly empty stable, neither subject had come to any sort of satisfactory conclusion. She was hardly the best person to guide Lord Stildon’s social life, and now that she’d had some time to calm down and think, she didn’t think her stepmother’s threat to push her into marriage so quickly was all that dire. What could the woman really do?
“There you are.” Mrs. Snowley looked her up and down as she entered the house, her lips curling into a sneer as if Bianca had dressed as a maid instead of in a perfectly fashionable riding habit.
Bianca said nothing, merely stood where she was, waiting for Mrs. Snowley to finish whatever she was determined to say.
“Marianne and I are going out tonight.”
This was hardly anything new. The only difference on this day was Mrs. Snowley’s feeling the need to inform Bianca.
“I’ve instructed the staff you are eating in the dining room tonight instead of having a tray sent up to your room,” Mrs. Snowley continued.
Bianca’s eyebrows lifted. “And if I don’t?”
“The door to your room will be locked from seven this evening until ten, and no food is to go anywhere other than the dining room or your father’s study. Anyone disobeying the order will immediately be dismissed without a reference.”
A stunned chill lifted bumps along Bianca’s arms, and her mouth dropped open slightly. “What?”
“Your father intends to meet with Mr. Mead tonight, and his son will likely come with him. If you are available, it improves the chances that he will make an offer.” Mrs. Snowley cast her gaze down Bianca’s wardrobe once more. “I’ve already selected the gown you will wear. I suggest you make the most of the opportunity.”
Vying for the Viscount Page 12
