The Stablemaster's Daughter (Regency Rendezvous Book 11)

by Barbara Devlin

  “It is all right, Hen, as it is not your fault my sibling seems to have forgotten his manners.” Barrington gently set aside his bride and frowned. “But I believe it is past due for me to have a word with him, in your defense.” He claimed another kiss from Florence. “Please, excuse me, darling, because it appears I must beat some sense into my little brother.”

  “Give him an extra swift kick in the arse, for compassion.” Flo giggled, but she sobered when she met Henrietta’s gaze. “In the meantime, what say you and I return to the drawing room and enjoy our refreshments?”

  “I am not sure I can do this. As of this moment, I am not even sure we can succeed.” Adrift on a sea of indecision, Henrietta grasped Florence’s hand and shook her head. “I love Ernest, and I always have, but I am not sure I can give him what he wants, as I know not how to be anything other than what I am—a stablemaster’s daughter.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Late the following morning, Ernest turned up his nose at the untouched breakfast on the tray, stood, and strolled to the windows overlooking the garden. After a night spent tossing and turning, his mood had improved little since Henrietta’s unfortunate revelation, because he could devise no way to mitigate her admission to the Dudleys.

  While he would happily marry Hen in the stables, with naught but horses in attendance, his position in one of England’s most estimable noble families required he observe the proprieties associated with his station, and he would do anything to protect his future wife, even if it meant surrendering his character and her personal history.

  He was that desperate.

  “Brother, you have avoided me long enough, and I will not be ignored.” When Ernest peered over his shoulder, he discovered Barrington, looming in the middle of the sitting room. In his grasp, he clutched a large bundle of what appeared to be envelopes. “I must admit I never fully comprehended the depth of your attachment to Henrietta, and how much it mirrored my own for Florence, until now. I honestly thought it a child’s fancy, but I know it is much more, so in some respects I owe you an apology.” He handed Ernest the parcel. “When you told me of the letters Hen claimed she wrote, I remembered our father collected all of his correspondence, and I searched the heap and located her unopened missives, hidden among the stores.”

  “You found them?” With trembling fingers, Ernest reached for the treasured mementos. After untying the twine that bound them, he flipped through the franked dispatches, marked from Tunbridge Wells, Kent. As tears welled in his eyes, he hugged the notes to his chest and shook his head. “So she did not forget me, and I was never alone, as I imagined.”

  “How could she forget the love of her life?” Barrington rested a palm to Ernest’s shoulder. “The simple answer is she could not, any more than Florence could forget me, because women possess incomparable strength and devotion, and that is doubly so when it comes to their heart. And I spoke with Graham, regarding your letters to Henrietta, and he has the entire lot, which she has never seen. It would appear our father franked but never posted them for you. Instead, he compiled the collection and sent them to our stablemaster, with instructions to burn them.”

  “So she bore the same excruciating silence, believing, however wrongly, that I needed her not. And I, so ignorant in my assumptions, doubted the constancy of her affection, when I heard nothing from her, because I presumed my entreaties fell on deaf ears.” Ashamed, Ernest wiped his cheeks and gazed at the floor. “It was easier to assume she erased me from her memory, than to suspect, even for a second, she suffered the same agony and emptiness of our separation.”

  “I sympathize.” Barrington eased to a high-backed chair, rested elbows to knees, and propped his chin in his hands. “Florence and I endured only five years apart, whereas you and Hen tolerated twice the estrangement, yet you remain joined at the hip, owing to your love, so I am confused by your tack and your treatment of her.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Ernest set the letters on a table and faced his irritating elder sibling. “If there is any chance for Hen to survive in society, we must redefine her. We must remake her into something more acceptable, else the ton will destroy her, and I shall be moved to violence if that happens.”

  “Are you sure about that?” In an annoying affectation, Barrington inclined his head and arched a brow. “Because our friends will never abandon us, which we learned when I returned to London as a wanted pirate. While there will always be those who shun you, what do they matter, when they are nothing to us?”

  “They matter, because I want to give Hen everything. Power, prestige, and money. I would make her a lady, that she spends no more days with her nose pressed to the glass, watching our world from the outside, as a beggar, because she belongs with me. It is my dream, and I will have her by my side.” Ernest would not allow the nobles to treat his bride-to-be with anything less than the respect that was due, when she far surpassed them in every way. “Once it is all said and done, and Henrietta and I are wed, she will understand why I acted as I did.”

  “And what of yesterday? What of her dreams? Are you certain hers are aligned with yours?” Barrington just had to bring up the minor quarrel, when Ernest wanted to pay it no heed. “If anyone else treated Hen with such incivility, you would have challenged them to a duel, but you have yet to apologize, and she is hurt and confused by your behavior.”

  “I lost my temper, because I did not anticipate a visit from those meddling Dudleys, and I will make it up to her.” He recalled her hurt expression and cursed himself, because he would rather sever an arm than injure his lady, thus he would make amends. “But she jeopardized everything, with her careless admission, as the Dudleys are trouble, and you know it.”

  “That is the point. Aside from Graham, Hen enjoys no close acquaintances in Derbyshire, and she is wholly unspoiled. In Kent, she was sheltered by her aunt and uncle, to her detriment, as she knows not how to dissemble, but I would argue that is a much sought after quality in a wife, so what happened was not her fault.” Barrington scratched his chin and frowned. “You told me you met the Dudleys in Chesterfield, when you took Henrietta shopping, which was an exercise in lunacy, and I still cannot believe you were so reckless with her reputation. What did you think would be the outcome of the chance encounter? And what do you expect in London, because you cannot be everywhere at once? There will be occasions when Hen must feign for herself, sink or swim, and you will have to comfort her when she falls—and she will fall, as it is inevitable, which you would do well to admit.”

  “Not if I prepare her.” Pondering various options, Ernest composed a script, of sorts, in his mind. And he would work with Hen, to ensure she made no mistakes, with none the wiser. They would create a catalogue of answers, from which she would not deviate, and they would win the day. Then they could retire to Derbyshire and begin their life, together. “And I will apologize for my odious behavior, but I was shocked by the unfavorable development, and you know my temper. But I want this, brother. For so long, I have wanted her, and she is within my grasp.”

  “Still, that is no excuse for rudeness, and you know better, especially when it comes to Henrietta.” Barrington wagged a finger. “Hers is a gentle soul, and I will not permit you to mistreat her, however good your intentions. And another thing, you upset Florence, and that I will not abide, under any circumstances, so you will make your apologies, else you will deal with me.”

  “What are you going to do, spank me?” Ernest took offense at his brother’s interference. “Take the lash to my back? Or will you lock me in my room, without dinner?”

  “I am not our father, and you would do well not to insult me, when I am on your side.” Barrington compressed his lips. “But you must use care with Henrietta, and before you rip at me, I caution you not because I consider her low, as I would assert she is anything but low, but because she is my friend. Where she is concerned, I hold no illusions, and calling her naïve is putting it mildly. While Hen is not stupid, she is unfamiliar with the ways of the world and the di
ctates that govern our set, and you hurt her with your criticism, which she did not deserve. Do not abuse her again, because I will defend her, and you do not want to face me under those circumstances.”

  “I told you I would apologize.” In that moment, Ernest checked his tone, because he needed an ally, thus he could ill-afford to alienate his brother. “What more would you have of me?”

  “I would have you atone for your boorish behavior.” Folding his arms, Barrington sat upright. “I would have you offer her a treat she has yet to sample and, in the process, spend some time with me, as I would mend our differences.”

  Curious, Ernest narrowed his stare. “What have you in mind?”

  “I just purchased a pair of handsome bays, and I would like to have them put to, that I might try out their paces.” Lowering his chin, Barrington smiled. “Care to race those pretty blacks of yours, with your future wife at your side?”

  “Hen would love that.” In seconds, Ernest assessed his appearance. “Give me a chance to change my coat, secure her forgiveness, and join you in the stable yard.”

  ~

  For the second time in as many minutes, Henrietta measured the length of a sleeve, before pinning the swath of wool to the top of the garment. Surrounded by various swatches, organized with precision, she scrutinized her fledgling creation and groaned. In a failed attempt to distract herself from the uncertainty of her situation, she designed, cut, and assembled a new gown, but she struggled to sew a single straight stitch, and she resolved to rip out the inferior work and redo the entire lot.

  “May I come in?” When she peered over her shoulder, she met Ernest’s troubled stare, just as he stepped forward, and she winced. “Am I intruding, dearest and sweetest Henrietta?”

  “You may suit yourself, sir, as this is your home.” And never had she felt more unwelcome, since their heated exchange the previous afternoon. “I am just a visitor.”

  “I suppose I deserve that, after the shameful way I treated you, yesterday.” Was that genuine remorse she detected in his words? “May a humble beggar grovel at your feet, that you might forgive his breach in proper decorum, given you are more than a visitor?”

  “You require no permission to do as you please.” As tears welled, she gave him her back, if only to spare her pride, because his caustic remarks still stung. “And you owe me nothing. Indeed, I should be able to fashion enough garments to repay you for the textiles. As for the jewels, I collected the entire lot on the vanity, and I hope you can return them. If you wish me to remove to my father’s cottage, I can do so, at once, and continue my labors, there.”

  “Actually, I owe you everything, and you are going nowhere.” When he rested his hands on her shoulders, she flinched. “I am so sorry I yelled at you, Henrietta. There is no excuse for my behavior, and I have no defense, except to say that I was wrong, pure and simple, and I cannot apologize enough.”

  “When the Dudleys arrived, I did not know how to respond, and I was unprepared to answer their questions. In truth, I wanted to avoid them, but Florence said that would only inspire gossip, which we could ill-afford, so I made the best of it.” And she wondered just how much else she was not equipped to handle, in regard to his scheme. “I was only trying to help, and I never meant to undermine your plans.”

  “I know that.” Gently, he rotated her and pulled her into his arms, and she did not resist. Instead, she nuzzled his chest and inhaled his sandalwood scent. “Please, Hen. I am your most humble servant, and I would rather cut off my most prized appendage than ever cause you pain, but my criticism was born of fear, because we are so close to achieving our dream. Can you not comprehend my reaction, with so much at stake? Can you not forgive me?”

  “Yes, I forgive you, but I wonder if we should rethink our future.” He tensed, as she shifted to meet his gaze. “What if we reach for the impossible? What if we embark on a fool’s errand, only to be destroyed in the end?”

  “Would you surrender me so easily, because I would never sacrifice you without a fight.” The anguish in his expression gave her pause. “What happened was entirely my fault, because I should have anticipated Agnes Dudley’s attack, given her exploits are well known, from London to Derbyshire, and we would do well to guard against her. In any case, I am to blame, and I should not have yelled at you.” He bent his head and claimed a whisper of a kiss. “But I am afraid, Hen. Now that you are back in my life, I am terrified of losing you. So, should I kneel? Should I prostrate myself at your feet and beg your forbearance?”

  “That is not necessary.” Beneath the weight of his contrition, her fit of pique vanished, but the pain remained, and she had serious reservations about his proposal. “I was thinking I could return to Papa’s cottage, in any case, as I do not require a London season, and perhaps we could marry when you retire to Derbyshire for the summer.”

  “Frightened, my little bird?” How well he read her thoughts, as he caressed her cheek.

  “Yes.” She nodded, as she cherished his dream. Petrified.”

  “Please, do not worry, and let me give you a season, as a prelude to our nuptials, that you might persist in society as my bride.” With his thumb, he toyed with her lower lip, until she caught him between her teeth. “Ah, but you tempt me, Henrietta, and I adore you. Trust me, I will not let you fall. Together, we shall compose a story and a collection of responses, so you will never again find yourself in a position of indecision or weakness. And I will remain firmly entrenched at your side, so there is no doubt as to the constancy of my affection and your place in my family.”

  “What if I do not want to go to London?” Given what she knew of the capital, she had no interest in venturing there. “I am a provincial, and I am proud of it. Is that not enough for you?”

  “Sweetheart, do you not see? I am a man of wealth and position, and my wife must fulfill the duties expected of her, regardless of personal preference. That includes the annual trek to London, the journey through the ballrooms of the ton, dinner parties at home, and evenings at the opera, the theater, and Vauxhall.” Cupping her chin, he brought her gaze to his. “Would you have me take another, when my heart is set on you?”

  “No.” In fact, she gulped at the prospect. “The mere suggestion makes me want to be violently ill.”

  “Then give us a chance.” Again, he claimed her lips in a scorching kiss. “Please, my little bird. Do it for those two children who dared to dream of something more and now stand in a position to claim the prize.”

  “You know I could never resist you or your charming pout.” When he exaggerated his forlorn countenance, she laughed. “All right, we will do it your way.”

  “Wonderful.” In a flash, he lifted her in his embrace and twirled her about the room. “Now, what say we take a ride in my phaeton? My brother wagers his new bays can outpace my blacks, but with you in my box seat, I cannot lose.”

  “It sounds like fun, but I should put on a warmer gown.” In her mind, she sifted through a selection of options and decided on the lavender wool, with a matching pelisse and bonnet. “Give me five minutes, and I will meet you in the foyer.”

  “Do not make me wait too long.” With a cat-savoring-cream grin, he let her slide down the front of him, and what should have been a harmless act struck her as quite illicit, thus she peered at the floor, until he took her hand in his and nibbled on the tips of her fingers. “You are mine, Hen, just as I am yours. Regardless of what anyone says or what happens, never forget that.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Once he exited her chamber, she raced to the armoire, located the lavender gown, laid it on the bed, and then initiated a strange tug of war with her laces.

  It was in the solitude of her room that she reflected on her situation and what she was willing to surrender for Ernest. While she doubted not her ability to play the part of society lady, in public, she would still be naught but the stablemaster’s daughter, in private. No matter how many stories her beau concocted, he could not recreate her, but she would wear the mask he contrived
, because she loved him. But could they survive on love, when they lived so perilously on the edge of exposure? Would his attachment outlast her unveiling, if and when it happened?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Yaa!” Ernest flicked the reins, and his team soared across the meadow, with Barrington just keeping pace. Holding tight, Henrietta squealed, as they rounded the curve, and when he let the blacks have their heads, his phaeton left Barrington in the dust. The pair charged forth, veering from left to right, and Ernest’s heart pounded in his chest. By the time they reached the rise in the lane, which marked the end of the race, there was no question as to the winner, and Ernest beamed with pride.

  “Oh, my lord, that was thrilling.” Shifting, Hen momentarily rested her palm to his thigh, and his loins went up in flames, before she flinched and snatched free. With an arresting blush in her cheeks, she glanced toward the rear, as she clasped her hands in her lap, and he vowed, then and there, to maintain her breathtaking smile for the rest of their lives. “Apologies.”

  “Little bird, never apologize for touching me, because I belong to you.” He leaned close and whispered, “How I look forward to the day you know me intimately.”

  “Ernest, stop.” Despite her reproach, she grinned, and he could not resist baiting her. “You, sir, are a reprobate.”

  “Only with you, and do you not wish to know me?” As Barrington neared, Ernest winked. “Are you not curious?”

  “You know I am.” When she fixated on his mouth, he tensed. “And I—”

  “Well, that was a miserable debut, and I am rather disappointed.” Barrington pulled alongside, drew rein, and frowned, as he assessed the bays. “They need a bit of work, so enjoy your victory, however brief.”

  “I challenge you to a rematch, any time.” Ah, it was as days of old, as Barrington baited Ernest. “Perhaps, you would like to continue to the bluffs? You may have more luck.”