by Blue, Andie
“I’m John, the groom.” He leaned confidently on a rake, his sky blue eyes smiling as he spoke.
“Hello, John,” she said warmly. “I’m Samantha. I came to convince Lord Chattel to mentor me so I could enter a Chattel contest,” she admitted, waiting for his shocked reaction. To her surprise, he just continued to smile at her.
He handed her the rake. “Aren’t those contests for men?”
“I would be disguised as a man,” she said sheepishly. “You won't tell anyone, will you? It would ruin my plan, and I desperately need to win the money to save my farm and care for my mother.”
“I won't tell,” he assured her. “Lord Chattel has very strict rules about gossip. No one gets to work for him that would do such a thing. Besides, I wouldn't want to stand in the way of saving your farm.”
Samantha took the rake and looked closely at John. “Do you really think it's possible and not a crazy harebrained idea?” she asked him. He was the first person she’d spoken to about this who hadn’t tried to talk her out of it.
“It's harebrained, all right, but anything is possible,” he said with a smile that showed off his dimples. “I started out as an orphan in Cheapside who didn't know anything about horses. I never dreamed I’d end up in a place like this, working with such beautiful creatures in the sunshine and fresh air. A little bit of luck, a lot of prayer, and hard work is all it takes.”
“Thank you, John,” she replied, with a smile of her own. She liked him already. “I really needed to hear that right now.” His words truly did make her feel a little better. Just because Lord Chattel had refused to mentor her didn’t mean she still couldn’t enter the game. She was confident of her abilities. Look how long it had taken the master of the game to beat her!
“Well, let me show you around and introduce you to the horses. Then I’ll go get some grub while you do my work.” He looked sidewise at her while they walked. “You must have made him angry,” he said with a laugh.
Samantha said nothing but thought about Lord Chattel blindfolding her.
After John showed her where everything was and explained what needed to be done, he took off with a jaunty wave, obviously happy for the unexpected break. She was glad at least one person was benefiting from her stupid mistake.
She grabbed a shovel and headed for the chestnut’s stall, leading her out into the paddock so she could thoroughly muck out the large stone room. After a few moments, she fell into a rhythm, her muscles falling back into the repetitive work she’d done all her life.
Her mind drifted once more to the hours she’d spent with Lord Chattel. What an interesting and intimidating man he was. She’d expected someone completely different, someone far more like Henry and his friends. What she’d found was a serious, handsome genius who she desperately wanted to get to know better and not just so he could teach her his game.
She’d been so sure he was going to kiss her while she was blindfolded, and truthfully, she had been wishing that he would. She wanted to know how that hard mouth of his would feel against hers.
If she hadn’t chosen to lie to him, and then become so entranced by their time together that she’d forgotten the lie, who knew how this afternoon would have gone? Now she’d made him so angry she’d probably never see him again.
* * *
Nico leaned against the barn door, watching the lovely Mrs. Blake muck out his stalls. She’d accepted his edict with surprising grace and didn’t seem to mind the work at all. Her silky auburn hair had come free of most of its pins, tumbling around her shoulders and face in a bright nimbus of color. With every thrust of the rake into the old straw, her trousers lovingly cupped her bottom and her shirt strained across her chest.
He could gladly watch her work all day.
“I know I can still win the contest. I don’t need him to do it. I have to win,” she said aloud as she dumped a large rakeful of hay into the wheelbarrow.
He smiled at her determination, his anger all but gone. Lovely little farm girl. Whatever was he going to do with her? He thought of the desperation that had driven her to come to him.
This afternoon had been a revelation to him. Her company intrigued him, and for the first time in nearly a decade he’d enjoyed the game that had once defined him. A few weeks, she’d said. Perhaps he really should take her under his wing and do whatever he could to help her. He’d been cooped up alone with his experiments far too much lately. What would it hurt to have her around for just a little while?
Mind made up, he pushed off the wall and started toward her. “Having fun?” he asked with a grin as he approached the stall.
“Hello, my Lord,” she said, giving him a nervous smile as she tried to bring some order to her hair and rubbed her sleeve across her sweaty face. He couldn’t believe how attractive she was in this condition.
“I have decided I will mentor you,” he told her before he could change his mind.
Her lovely green eyes widened. “Truly?”
He nodded, trying hard to contain another smile at her excitement.
“That’s wonderful,” she cried, jumping a little in the air in a victory celebration.
“But only during breaks from my research,” he hastened to add. He attempted to give the air of a strict schoolmaster. “I cannot guarantee any specific time of day since I work day and night. If you’re here when I’m ready, we can play. If you’re not around when the moment strikes, I’ll probably just go back to my work.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, some of her excitement fading. “It’s such a long distance from my house, nearly eight kilometers. Do you want me to make the trip every day and wait around, hoping you’ll make time for me?”
“You’re the one who wants my help,” he reminded her. “Surely you don’t expect me to change my schedule.” The solution had already come to him, but he didn’t intend to make this easy on her.
“Of course not,” she said, blushing. “I’m very grateful, don’t get me wrong. I just don’t see how I can possibly make the journey twice a day, especially in this cold weather.”
“I suppose there’s no other option than for you to stay here during the mentorship,” he told her, hoping she wouldn’t refuse.
Her blush intensified. “Surely you know that would be completely unacceptable. What’s left of my reputation would be destroyed.”
“I have very discreet servants and virtually no guests. Your secret will remain within these walls.” He paused and turned to pet one of the horses.
“Don’t you trust me?” He wasn’t actually sure that he could trust himself to keep his hands off of her.
She licked her lips nervously. Watching her little pink tongue was having a powerful effect on him. “I don’t know. I really want to. I just—”
“I’ll have John take you home,” he said, anxious to have the matter settled. He was used to giving orders and taking charge. “There’s nearly a month before the next contest, so make sure you pack everything you’ll need.”
He turned away, but she reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Thank you very much,” she said, staring at him with those earnest green eyes. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
“Don’t get too excited,” he told her roughly. “All I can do is show you a few pointers and practice them with you. I still don’t think you can win.”
“You’re wrong. That is all I need. And it will be enough, you’ll see.” She flashed him a confident smile.
He stared at her, completely transfixed. What an amazing creature she was. “You can stop mucking out the stalls now. I never really expected you to last this long. I just wanted to teach you a lesson.” With a shake of his head, he took the rake from her. “Mrs. Blake… promise me you’ll never lie to me again?”
She swallowed and then nodded. “Yes, of course, my Lord.”
“I will see you tomorrow then.” With that, he turned away before he did something even more ridiculous, like tumble her into the fresh straw and kiss h
er until neither of them could breathe.
After Lord Chattel walked away, Samantha spread fresh straw in the chestnut’s stall, then went to lead the horse back in. As she was finishing up, John returned to take her home.
“I’m sorry,” she said as he approached. “You were meant to have the afternoon off.”
He laughed good-naturedly. “Lord Chattel never expected you to clean the whole barn. I just ran up to the house for a while and snagged some of Mrs. Lotte’s fresh cinnamon bread. I was going to come and relieve you shortly.”
She smiled at him as she closed the stall door. “Neither of you had any faith in my ability to do hard work?”
“I had no doubt myself. I know a hard worker when I see one.” As he spoke, he led out one of the carriage horses.
Samantha stared at the fancy coach with Lord Chattel’s crest on the side, biting her lip. Now that she’d agreed to this wild plan, she had to find a way to minimize the consequences. “Is there another coach we could take? Something a bit less fancy? Something no one would connect to Lord Chattel?”
Evening was fast approaching, and too many people would be out on the roads. If anyone saw her in Lord Chattel’s coach, she’d never survive it. She truly would be a pariah if anyone thought she’d taken such a powerful lover less than a year after Henry’s death.
John gave her a sympathetic look. “Of course. It’s not very well sprung, but if that’s what you want, I can definitely hitch up the old coach. It will take me just a bit longer though, it’s out back.”
“Thank you,” she said, relief washing through her as she followed him outside and saw the coach he’d referred to. It was plain and black, with curtained windows. No one would know she was inside, and even if someone saw it parked in front of her house, it wasn’t fancy enough to raise any eyebrows.
Half an hour later, they were on their way. She felt strange riding in the back of the carriage and wished she could have sat up front with John, though she supposed that would have defeated the whole point. She quite liked Lord Chattel’s young groom and would have liked to have been able to pick his mind a bit more about Lord Chattel, especially now that she was going to be sharing his home. What were his habits? Why was he considered eccentric? Was that only because of the science work? Was he always so demanding and bossy or did he have a softer side?
Samantha’s misgivings about this rash decision hadn’t faded. If anything, they’d grown stronger. Was it really possible for her to stay with Lord Chattel for an entire month without anyone finding out? And even if no one did, could she remain in that man’s house for such an extended period of time without finding herself completely compromised?
By the time they reached her farm, she’d gotten herself worked up with worry. Taking a few deep breaths, she forced herself to calm down. Her mother had always been able to pick up on any sign of distress, even in her reduced state, and Samantha didn’t want to agitate her.
John helped her down, but she asked him to remain outside while she gathered her things. It would be too difficult to explain his presence, and she wasn’t completely certain Mrs. Potter hadn’t met him on one of her trips to town. Though she trusted the older woman not to gossip, she didn’t know what Mrs. Potter would think. Would she remain working for an unmarried woman who planned to stay with an unmarried man without a chaperone? Or for a woman who planned on paying her salary with the winnings of a contest? Not likely.
She entered the house and stood for a moment in the small entryway, breathing deeply of the familiar scents of lemon wax and pine. This was why she must do this, she reminded herself. So she could remain here in this place that meant so much to her.
It held the memories of her sweet, funny father, working hard in the fields while her mother made supper. Those were happy times before his death and before her mother’s illness. Samantha had often helped her father with his work, since there were no other children and farm life required many hands. She liked the “man’s work”. It had made her lean and strong and had given her a certain confidence in her ability to handle problems. She had learned how to plow and seed, how to birth a calf and a million other skills that most girls did not know.
Unfortunately, the farm had changed since her father’s death. Samantha had married Henry a mere two months later, while still in a state of grief. After the wedding, she let the fields go natural and sold most of the animals, thinking that the farm would no longer be needed to support her mother. The once-thriving farm now only consisted of one cow, a few chickens and a large vegetable garden. It wasn’t much, but it was all they could handle right now, even with the generous help of Tom, a family friend who came over to do odd chores.
“Hello,” she called quietly as she entered the parlor. “Mrs. Potter?”
The older woman came out of mother’s bedroom, her pleasant face tranquil as always. “Good evening, Mrs. Blake.”
Mrs. Potter had been a midwife and nurse all of her life, never having a family of her own. She had a calm and serious demeanor that reminded Samantha of a nun. Her presence in their lives had been a godsend. When Samantha’s mother had first started losing her memory and acting strangely, Samantha had asked Mrs. Potter for advice. Mrs. Potter had known just how to care for her. Now she couldn’t imagine being without her.
“Good evening,” Samantha replied. “How is mother tonight?”
“Very well,” Mrs. Potter replied. “I’ve already gotten her down for the night.”
Samantha went to her mother’s door, smiling slightly when she saw how peaceful she looked in her sleep. Although she would have liked to tell her good-bye, it was probably better that she wasn’t awake. She didn’t always remember Samantha, and when she did, she tended to be very clingy, not wanting her out of her sight.
“I need to go out of town for a few weeks to stay with a friend,” she told Mrs. Potter, turning away and heading for her own room. “Can you handle things here on your own for a short time? The only thing extra you would need to do is milk Molly and feed the chickens. I can add in a bit more wage to cover that. Would that be alright?”
Mrs. Potter followed her, frowning. “Of course I don’t mind, but isn’t this a bit sudden?”
Samantha busied herself gathering things so she wouldn’t have to look Mrs. Potter in the eye. “A dear friend is ill,” she lied. “I really must go. Will you be all right here without me? Tom can help if you need it.”
“Yes, dear,” Mrs. Potter replied, though she looked a bit suspicious. Samantha didn’t know what else to say. She simply could not afford to tell her the truth and possibly lose her. Winning the Chattel tournament may sound crazy but it was the only thing she could think of to keep their way of life. She needed to know her mother would be cared for while she was gone. She could be suspicious all she wanted, but she wouldn’t leave unless she knew the truth, and Samantha had no intention of that happening.
Less than an hour later, Samantha was on the road again, headed back toward Lord Chattel’s estate with a small trunk of her things. She’d also had John tie Henry’s horse, Midnight, to the back of the coach, figuring the fine animal would be safe in Lord Chattel’s barn. She didn’t want Mrs. Potter to have to care for him and she wanted to feel like she had a way of escape if she needed one.
By now it was getting very late, and she found herself nodding off a time or two. She’d left at the crack of dawn, knowing the trip would take her a couple of hours by foot, and she was a bit stiff and sore from where Lord Chattel had tackled her.
Their arrival back at the estate was not met with any fanfare. Lord Chattel did not greet her, but his taciturn butler, Joseph, met her inside the front door as John carried her trunk up the stairs.
”Lord Chattel instructed me to show you your room and get you anything you need,” Joseph told her as he led her to her room where John had already deposited her trunk. “However, there will not be a maid to attend to you, as we have limited staff.”
“That’s quite all right,” she assured him. It
wasn’t as though she’d ever had a maid before, after all.
“He also said that he prefer you not bother him while he is working,” Joseph continued, looking embarrassed.
“He’s regretting his decision already, isn’t he?”
She could tell she had guessed correctly, even though Joseph merely bowed and backed away. “Good evening, Mrs. Blake. Ring if you need anything.”
After he’d left, she looked around the room in awe. The entire second floor of her house could almost fit in this bedroom. Blue and cream were the predominate colors. A large white marble fireplace held a roaring fire, and the curtains on the two floor-to-ceiling windows were thick blue velvet that kept out the winter chill.
The lovely bedside table held several books and a beautiful bouquet of flowers in a crystal vase. “How in the world do they have flowers in the middle of the winter?” she mused out loud as she inhaled their lovely perfume. There must be a hothouse.
“Oh, this is heaven,” she said as she sank down on the huge four-poster bed in delight. It billowed beneath her with the feathers of what seemed like a thousand geese. It was doubtful that she would ever sleep in a more comfortable bed.
She changed into her simple cotton nightdress, blew out the lights, and climbed into the luxurious bed. A sigh of pure pleasure escaped her mouth. Tomorrow would be time enough to worry about the future. For tonight, she was too tired to care.
* * *
Joseph had informed Nico of Mrs. Blake’s return but he made no effort to greet her on arrival. He’d been regretting his decision to be a part of this foolish endeavor. Now, nearly an hour later, he was still distracted by the thought of her sleeping in a room in his house. He wondered what she wore to sleep in. She didn’t at all seem like a silk sort of girl. He smiled, imagining flannel or cotton. Something white and simple that would cling to her upturned breasts…
With a groan, he tried to push the image out of his mind. How on earth was he going to get anything done in the next few weeks, if he couldn’t concentrate for thoughts of her?
