The Stable Master's Son, page 14
“If you are certain you are well?” he asked.
Elle nodded. “I am very well. Thank you again for your help, Your Grace.” Lifting her skirts, she hurried back toward the house and the safety of the schoolroom. She did not know that she had any answers for Mr. Jenkins, but at least he would know she had tried. She only hoped her actions were enough to bring the crinkle to the side of his eyes.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Why had he asked her? And then left her standing in the garden when she refused him? Philip reined in his horse and looked out over the fields on the east side of his estate. He should have known she would not be amiable to the idea. They hardly knew one another. It was completely inappropriate to have asked for such a favor. But he had only made the situation worse by leaving her. What must she think of him?
Philip placed his knuckled hand to his brow and thumped it several times. What had he been thinking? Was he so desperate as to use a governess to achieve his goals?
He shrugged. He was not desperate. Not anymore. But that did not mean he did not need the sale. And he wasn’t ready to forsake his goal. A goal in which Larmont played a large part.
But using Miss Carter was not the solution. He needed to figure out another way.
Why did his thoughts always come back to Miss Carter? How was he to apologize to her? To send a note to Briarwood would be even more inappropriate than it had been to ask her to intervene.
Would she bring the children to visit the horses again? It had happened several times over the last week. But he had muddled things so badly yesterday, it seemed unlikely she would venture over of her own accord.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. Maybe he could convince Gracie to send another invitation for tea. Although, if she would not bring the children to see the horses, would she accept an invitation for tea? It seemed doubtful.
He shoved his hands in his hair, pulling at the roots. It brought tears to the corners of his eyes, but he did not mind it. He deserved much worse for what he had done to Miss Carter.
Releasing his hair, he tried to put it back in place as best he could. Why was he so concerned about Miss Carter? If she never came back to Greystone—he swallowed hard—would it be so terrible? His chest tightened, and he rubbed at it.
He had thought a good bruising ride would clear his head, but it had done nothing of the sort. What was wrong with him that a hard ride could not set things to rights? Or at least provide him with a clear path?
He leaned forward in his saddle and rubbed a hand down the horse’s neck. It was not acceptable to Philip’s way of thinking to let things stay as they were with Miss Carter. He would not think clearly until he had fixed things with her. Perhaps if he rode home slowly enough, he would think of the right way to go about it.
All the other times he had seen her, save the invite to tea, he had been working outside in his fields or paddocks. Perhaps that was the answer. He simply needed to work more in those places where she would see him easily. Or, as he did not think her inclined to seek him out, where he could easily see her.
Philip nodded. That was it. That was how he would find his chance to speak with her. The children would likely be with her, but he could pull her aside easily enough. Then he could say what he needed to say and have no regrets. She could return with Lord Kirtley’s family to whichever county they called home, and Philip would never wonder after her again.
He would never have to worry if she thought ill of him or if she was angry with him. He would never have to wonder if she missed speaking with him over the fence rail or bringing the children to the stables. No, he would not have to wonder about any of that.
He dug his heels into his horse’s sides and set off at a gallop. If he was to see Miss Carter, he did not wish to wait any longer than he had to. It was already late in the morning. For all he knew, he had already missed his opportunity for today.
Philip walked from one cow to the next, checking each of the new calves. He kneeled in the pasture, the mud caking to his knees. He looked at the calf and then up toward Briarwood. For the last day and a half, he had milled about his herds, waiting for a chance to see Miss Carter about the grounds of Briarwood. But to no avail.
The weather had been foul and cold, so it should not surprise him she had not been out. But that did not stop his disappointment. Why was it when he desired to speak with her, she was not about?
He glanced up at the gray sky and reached a hand up to keep his hat from blowing away. No one was walking about the grounds of Briarwood. He glanced behind him at the stables. He should make his way back before the heavens opened and soaked him to the skin. He lingered among his herd a moment longer, staring at the large house in the distance. It was a futile hope that she would magically appear before him, yet he still held out.
He ran a hand through his hair and turned his back to Briarwood. He bent to examine the last calf in the herd. He would ensure it was well and then return to the stables.
Poking and prodding, the little calf let out a low bellow.
Philip smiled. There was much to be satisfied with this year. His herd was strong and as long as the fields produced enough to feed all the stock, he did not see why next year should not see some vast improvements to the estate.
Taking in a deep breath, he pushed himself to standing and headed toward the stables.
“Mr. Jenkins.”
He stopped. Was he daft, thinking he’d heard her voice on the wind?
“Mr. Jenkins.” Her voice was more insistent.
Philip stopped and turned around. He smiled without even thinking.
She had come out. He had imagined it, and it had happened. Perhaps he had a bit of magic within him.
He glanced again at the darkening skies. But now that she was here, apprehension seized him. “Miss Carter, what are you doing out here? It is likely to rain any moment.”
She lifted her skirt a little higher and hurried toward him. “Yes, I know. But I knew of no other way to tell you what I discovered. I saw you through the windows, and knew I had to speak to you at once.”
“Do not rush so. The ground is still quite slippery with all the rain we have had.” Philip moved toward her.
She looked up at the sky. “I will be we—” Her legs slipped out from under her, and she landed with a thud on the ground.
Philip launched himself over the rock wall, running until he came to where she lay. Kneeling beside her, he looked down at her. Was she hurt? Was she even conscious? “Miss Carter, are you all right?”
Her eyes stared at the sky above, unblinking for a moment. But then she nodded. “Yes,” she wheezed out. “I believe it just knocked the air from my lungs.”
He reached forward and placed his hand on her arm and the other on her shoulder. “Here, let me help you up.”
He slowly lifted Miss Carter’s back off of the ground. Mud clung to her spencer and clumps hung onto her hair.
“Do you think you can stand?”
She nodded.
He moved to his knees so he could help her up.
She pulled her feet under her and made to stand but cried out as she crumbled to the ground.
Philip looked at her. “What hurts?”
Tears pooled in the bottoms of her lids, and he thought his heart might tear in two. He did not know how to handle a woman in tears.
“It is my ankle. I must have twisted it.”
He looked down at her slipper-clad feet. It was no wonder her legs had slipped out from under her. These were not the shoes to wear on a day like today. “Why did you not put on walking boots?”
She grimaced. “I told you. I saw you from the window. I did not know how long you would be about. I had no time to change into my half boots.”
He lifted her skirt enough to see her feet. It did not take any investigation to discover which was the injured ankle. Her right one was already the size of a cricket ball. “Zounds! This is not good, Miss Carter. You cannot walk back to the house on that ankle.”
He crouched down. “Here, put your arm about my neck. I will carry you back to Greystone. It is closer. Then we can decide how best to transport you to Briarwood.”
She pulled back. Did she dislike him so much now she could not even stand the thought of his help?
“No, Mr. Jenkins. I am certain you are mistaken. It is not so bad. Surely, I can walk on it.”
He shook his head. “No, Miss Carter. You cannot. I am afraid I must insist.” He scowled at her. Did she not understand her predicament? Or that he wished to be of service? It was the least he could do after putting her in such a difficult position the other day.
He slid his arm around her back, ignoring the uptick in his pulse. When he slid his hands beneath her knees, his skin heated. He frowned at himself. He did not have time for such reactions. If he did not hurry, they would both be caught in a downpour that could easily see him with a twisted ankle also.
“I need you to put your arm around my neck.”
Miss Carter held back.
“Make haste, Elizabeth. Those storm clouds will await no one. Not even a handsome governess with a twisted ankle.”
She sucked in a breath, a small smile on her lips, but her hand slid around his neck.
He made certain she was securely in his arms before pushing himself up to standing. He paused for a moment, enjoying the feel of her against him. Even the cold mud seeping from her back through his coat and shirtsleeves did not dampen the enjoyment.
“I thought you said we must make haste?” Her voice was quiet next to his ear.
A shiver tingled down though his body. He readjusted her in his arms, mostly so he could take in a deep breath without her noticing. Even wet and muddy, she still smelled faintly of orange flowers.
Philip smiled. Never had he found the scent so appealing. “Now, hold on, please. This terrain is full of dips and holes.”
She nodded, but he felt her flinch with each footfall. The pain in her foot must be growing. It grieved him to know that he was causing her pain.
They had only made it halfway across the field when the first drops fell. Miss Carter—had he really called her Elizabeth back there—tucked her head into his chest, as if trying to keep the rain off her face.
He hoped she could not feel the thudding of his heart, which only increased with her face in the folds of his coat. He cautioned a glance down at her but could not see her face over the brim of her bonnet.
What must she think of him? First, he called her by her Christian name, without permission, and now she was witnessing his rapid heartbeat? It would not surprise him if she called for Ryecombe’s servants to fetch her immediately.
The rain came faster and harder, running down his face in rivulets. He squinted, trying to keep the water from blurring his vision. The last thing he wished was to trip and send them both sprawling across the field.
The house was in view, but the stables were closer. It did not seem the most comfortable stop for her to rest her sore ankle, but would it not be better to get out of the rain? Or would it be better to push on to the house where she could warm herself by the fire?
If he entered the house through the terrace doors instead of going around the house to the front, it would cut the distance drastically.
But the terrace led to the ballroom. And that room was sorely in need of repair. What would Elizabeth think of it—think of him—should he take her inside through that door? She had already seen the charred remnants of the west wing.
Lightning flashed across sky and Philip no longer cared about the condition of the ballroom. He needed to get Elizabeth to safety and the stable was closer.
He moved toward the stable yard. They could wait there until the rain and lightning stopped. Then he could move her to the house where they could enter through the front doors and go directly to the parlor. The finished parlor.
Philip blinked the water from his eyes as he stepped up to the door of the first stable building. He shifted Elizabeth in his arms as he grasped hold of the handle and yanked it aside.
She let out a whimper, and he realized he must have hit her foot with the door. “I‘m sorry, Miss Carter.”
She shook her head in his chest. “I thought it was to be Elizabeth now.”
Philip smiled. That she could still find humor in this situation said much about her character.
“Just a moment and I will see you settled.” He stepped inside the stable and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. This stable only held five horses at present. Once the foal was a little older, he would move both mother and foal into the other building.
He moved to the first stall and lowered Elizabeth into the hay. She curled into him. It was likely because she was warmer next to him, but he preferred to think she was simply reluctant to let him go.
He stood up and moved toward the door, pulling it shut behind him.
He paused with his hand on the handle. What was he doing? Calling her Elizabeth? Thinking her partial to him? Had he not been through this before? Why was he allowing himself to be hurt again? If he had learned anything from Lady Dorothea, it was that ladies of the ton were not to be trusted with a man’s heart. But was Elizabeth a lady of the ton anymore?
He took in a slow breath. Did anyone ever completely quit the ton? He would see to her injuries, and that was all. That was the wise decision.
He moved to the end of the aisle and pulled several heavy blankets off the railings. They were not particularly clean, but they were thick and warm. And that seemed of more import at the moment.
He threw them over his shoulder and grabbed a lantern off the shelf.
Thunder shook the stable as he kneeled beside Elizabeth.
Her arms hugged her shaking body, her teeth chattering loudly.
“I’m sorry there is no fire. I probably should have taken you to the house. But I thought it better to be protected from the lightning.” He rubbed at his brow. “That was likely the wrong decision.” Why did he second guess everything with this woman?
Unfolding the first blanket, he draped it over her shoulders. “Here, pull this tight. It should help to stop the shivering.”
Shifting, he glanced back at her. “I am going to check your ankle unless you disagree.”
She nodded.
He lifted her dripping skirt just enough to see her injured ankle and sucked in a breath. It had at least doubled in size on their walk to the stable. What if she had done more than twist it?
“I think a doctor should be called. This looks to be more than a twist.”
“Are you certain?” She shifted to see for herself, wincing before her eyes widened. “How did it grow so large?”
Philip nodded. “That is my concern.” He stood up. “I will send for Mr. Cooper. He is a surgeon but is more likely to come out in this kind of weather.”
“I don’t want to put anyone to any trouble. If you help me to Briarwood, I am certain they will take care of it there.”
Philip shook his head. “No. This was my fault. I will see to your care.” He moved to the door. “Stay where you are. I will return shortly.”
Elizabeth gave him a wry look. “I was considering taking a turn about the stable. But after your caution, I suppose I shall save it for another day.”
Philip grinned and ducked out the door. How could she both scare him and excite him at the same time?
Philip squinted into the pouring rain. He jogged to the next building and pushed open the door. “Jim. Are you within?”
The stable boy peered around the corner of the farthest stall. “Yes, sir.”
Philip waved him forward. “I need you to take a horse into Bath and fetch Mr. Cooper, the surgeon. Then on your return, stop at Briarwood and inform Lord Kirtley that Miss Carter is here at Greystone with an injured ankle.”
Jim nodded. “Yes, sir, Mr. Jenkins.”
Philip walked over to the peg on the wall and removed the worn greatcoat hanging there. “This will be too big on you, but it should keep you dry. Try to keep to the cover of the trees as much as you can. I have not heard thunder in a while, so hopefully it has passed.” He guided Adonis out of his stall and saddled him for the ride. He would help take care of Jim in this weather.
Philip did not wait for Jim to move to the mounting block. He grasped the boy around the waist and placed him in the saddle. “Give Adonis his head and he will get you there safely and quickly.”
“Yes, sir.”
Philip moved to the front of the horse and whispered instructions to him. Adonis was the only horse Philip trusted with this task. “Be quick about it.”
He opened the stable door and swatted the horse on the rump, sending it grudgingly out into the rain.
Once they were clear of the stable yard, Philip moved back to the other building to check on Elizabeth.
“How are you feeling?”
Her whole body shivered as a gust of wind blew in. “I was well until you opened that door.”
“I have sent for Mr. Cooper. And Jim will stop at Briarwood on the way back and tell them what has happened.”
Elizabeth nodded.
Philip came over and lowered down beside her.
“Why do you not change into warmer clothes? There is no reason we should both be cold and wet out here.”
He scooted in next to her. “It would not be gentlemanly for me to leave you here alone.”
“Did you not do just that?” She gave him a shaky smile.
“It was necessary. But I will not leave again.” He opened the blanket laying on the ground next to her. “Now, what was so important that you had to come outside in this weather?” He was not about to admit he had been hoping she would do exactly as she had.
“It was not raining when I came out. And I had not intended to stay out so long.” She rubbed her hands together. “I had the chance to speak with the duke, as you requested. I wanted to tell you what I learned.”
He turned toward her. “You spoke to the duke? About me? But I thought you could not.”
“I had thought it near impossible. But then I found him walking in the gardens and I sort of . . . ambushed him.”
