The Stablemaster's Daughter (Regency Rendezvous Book 11) Read online

  “Will you not break your fast with the family?” Florence brushed the backs of her knuckles to Hen’s cheek. “We are stronger, together. And we would help you make the transition into society.”

  “I need to speak with my father, and I should take care of his morning meal, despite my new status.” Hen pondered his objection to her wedding and frowned. As she recalled their quarrel, her spirits sank. “He does not support me.”

  “That is because he belongs to an older generation, much like my father, and they are set in their ways.” Florence averted her gaze. “And there are those who will oppose you, if for no other reason than to take fiendish satisfaction in your pain, while still others will protest because they envy you. And some simply prefer to keep you low, that they might elevate themselves.” She shrugged. “Ultimately, who knows why people do what they do, but you cannot be discouraged.”

  “You are right.” With renewed resolve, Hen stood and smoothed her skirts. “And although I appreciate the invitation to breakfast, I shall instead join my father and try to mend our differences, because, whether or not he likes it, I need him on my side.”

  “A wise decision, but I expected nothing less.” Flo rose from the bench. “But I would correct you in one respect.” She wagged a finger. “This is now your home, we are your family, and you require no invitation to dine with us. When you are ready, we must go shopping, to arm you for the ton’s ballrooms, and you must be perfect.”

  “All right.” Henrietta inhaled a deep, calming breath, strolled to the landing, checked for any sign of Ernest, and ran down the stairs. In the foyer, she veered right and sprinted along the hall. In the back parlor, she slipped beyond the terrace doors.

  After crossing the garden, she skipped into the yard. Since it was early, only a few hands went about their duties, cleaning stalls, feeding horses, and polishing saddles. A single light shone through the front window of the little cottage she shared with her father, and she climbed the steps. Unsure of her welcome, as she reached for the knob, she paused. Instead, she knocked.

  With an expression of surprise, her father set wide the heavy panel. “Henrietta, what are you doing here?”

  “I wish to talk, Papa.” When she noted the dark circles and lines of strain etched about his eyes, she regretted their disagreement. “I would make peace, if you permit it, as I hate being at odds with you.”

  “My dear child, I only want what is best for you.” In an instant, he pulled her into his reassuring embrace, and she savored the comforting and familiar scent of his shaving soap. “You are all I have left in the world, and I would protect you from harm.”

  “I am so sorry we argued.” As the tension abated, she shed a few tears and sniffed. “May I cook your breakfast, and you could help me plan my future?”

  “I would love that.” Papa kissed her hair. “Come inside, and warm yourself, as it is a cold morning.”

  In quiet, Hen retrieved a cast-iron pan and placed it atop a burner on the wood burning range, while her father collected the dishes. After tending the firebox, she stoked a roaring blaze. Fried kippers filled the small abode with a tempting aroma, and she scrambled eggs and toasted a few slices of bread, as tea steeped in a chipped porcelain pot.

  As she assumed her place at the table that marked so many happy childhood memories, even her father appeared to have relaxed. In silence, they shared the meal. Then he cleared his throat, and she braced.

  “Although you have accepted Lord Ernest’s proposal of marriage, it does not follow that you must wed him.” Papa rested his elbows atop the table and steepled his hands. “Please, hear me out, and then you may have your say. You do not know this, but I have saved a substantial sum of money, enough to afford you a brand-new start, in a place of your choosing, should you have need of it. You can go anywhere you desire. You need not stay here and grovel for scraps of approval from upper ranks.”

  “Papa, I mean to be Ernest’s wife.” She quieted when he raised a finger.

  “I understand that, but it may not come to pass, and I would not have you believe you have no other options.” As he gazed at his empty plate, he seemed to age ten years, and she rued the distress she caused him. “In some respects, I have always known you did not belong in the stables. Yet, I am not sure you belong in the manor house, either. But you were happy, in trade, and you are a master with a needle and thread, as your aunt boasted of your talents, so why would you waste your potential?” He leaned in her direction. “You could make your own way, on your terms, Henrietta. Beholden to none, you can be whatever you choose to be, rather than some ornament for a wealthy man. Perhaps, you could find someone from your class to take as a husband, because I would never have you bow to those who consider you beneath them, when they are not fit to wipe the mud from your boots.”

  “Am I to understand you no longer object to my engagement?” Indeed, it seemed he acquiesced, thus her troubles were no more, and she could have shouted for joy. “You will give us your blessing, if I ask it of you?”

  Before he could answer, Ernest barged into the cottage.

  “Graham, I have come to formally offer for your daughter.” Ernest tossed a piece of parchment at her father. “I know of the contract you settled with the previous Lord Ravenwood, and I would be willing to transfer the annuity into your name, in exchange for your permission to wed Henrietta.”

  “What contract?” Befuddled, she blinked and then snatched the paper from her father’s grasp, as he stammered. A quick scan of the contents left her reeling, as it detailed an unforgiveable conspiracy to keep her from Ernest. But it was her father’s involvement that struck the most vicious blow, and she flew into the kitchen, where she bent and vomited into a bucket.

  “Are you all right?” When she nodded, Ernest knelt at her side and offered his handkerchief. “You did not know of the arrangement our parents orchestrated, to keep us apart.”

  It was a statement, not a question.

  She needed to cry, but she would go to her grave before indulging in such humiliating behavior in front of Ernest. Hiking her skirts, she rushed along the short corridor, where her father loomed, and she drew up short. “Do not touch me.”

  With a sorrowful expression, he splayed his arms. “Henrietta, please, I can explain.”

  “What, Father? Exactly what can you explain?” In that very instant, something inside her shattered, as a much-cherished illusion died. Her father had always been her champion. Her protector. And it was a lie. The tears rolled down her cheeks, but she cared not, as she wanted him to witness the anguish he inflicted upon her. “How you abandoned me in favor of Lord Ravenwood? How you packed me up and sent me to Kent? How you sold me into trade for three hundred pounds a year? You accuse Ernest of trying to alter my nature, but you are the one who betrayed me. You disgust me, because you have become that which you protest.”

  With that, she darted around the table, wrenched open the door, and fled toward the north fields.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  There were moments in Ernest’s life when he faced seemingly insurmountable obstacles, insuperable barriers that brought lesser men to their knees, only to recover and retrench after a few quiet minutes of reflection, because he was particularly adept at managing crises. That was his talent. As he stood in the tense aftermath of Henrietta’s fiery rebuke, that was not one of those moments, and he was at a loss as to how he could recover.

  “Why could you not leave her be?” The grave tone of Graham’s query hit Ernest squarely between the eyes. “She was happy in Kent, without you.”

  Trying but failing to ignore the unmistakable ire in the stablemaster’s voice, Ernest shuddered. “I should go after her.”

  “Can you not leave well enough alone?” Graham rested his head in his hands. “My daughter is not for you.”

  “Why did you conspire with my father to keep Hen and I apart? Were we so wrong for each other? What have you against me?” Ernest bristled beneath the old man’s stare, which did not waver beneath his caus
tic queries. “Is it my rank or my wealth that bothers you?”

  “Both.” The stablemaster’s look sent a chill down Ernest’s spine. “My daughter is no lady, by society’s standards, and she brings naught but the clothes on her back to any union, but still you could never deserve her, given you have been pampered and spoiled from the cradle.”

  “Have care how you speak, because you know nothing of my upbringing.” He could have laughed at the irony, given the brutal reality. But that was the cruelest part of the abuse he suffered at his father’s hands. In a sense, Ernest manifested the worst, most shameful aspect of his sire, and yet he protected his father, by maintaining the secrecy surrounding the beatings. At once, he represented the scene of the horrible savagery and its concealment, which only compounded the torture. Why did he do it? Why maintain the secrecy? Because his father warned of the damage the truth would cause the family, and everyone would blame Ernest. Although his father had been gone more than seven years, the man still tormented Ernest. “And do you think I do not know that I could spend my life endeavoring to perform noble deeds, end universal suffering, and bring about world peace, and I could not equal her worth? But I care for her. As I come from less than humble beginnings, there are not many things I need, but I need her. I can give her everything her heart desires, and I pledge to do so, if you will but give us a chance.”

  “Sit down, Lord Ernest.” The stablemaster kicked out a chair. “Let Henrietta have her cry, as I suspect we have disappointed her, and then you may pursue her.” He wiped his face with his hand and compressed his lips. “Tell me why you are so set on marrying my girl, when you could have any woman of your choosing.”

  “Because she wants me.” It was too late when Ernest realized how that sounded, and he huffed in frustration. “What I mean is she wanted me before she knew anything of titles, social standing, and personal riches. Have you any idea what that means to a person in my position?”

  “But you were children, too young to possess any real understanding of emotional attachment and commitment.” Wide eyed, Graham’s incredulity was not lost on Ernest. “How can you honestly claim, with any certainty, that she is destined to be your mate, for eternity, given you just returned to Derbyshire and have not seen her in eleven years? Because I will accept nothing less than what she deserves, when it comes to Henrietta.”

  “Age does not signify, when it comes to affairs of the heart.” In that instant, Ernest evoked sweet reflections of the heated tryst he shared with Hen, in the back parlor. Yes, he took liberties that were not his to own, but she resisted not, and he could not restrain himself, when she was so accommodating. Despite their extended separation, the long, tender kisses, the intimate caresses, and the hour passed in her arms indicated a prevailing allegiance he could not—would not disregard. “Believe me, the attraction remains, and it is stronger than ever.”

  “And you would wed her, in full view of society, proclaiming for all to see that you have taken a lowborn bride?” Graham pounded a fist to the table. “That is what they will deuced call her, and I cannot abide it.”

  “Not if I invent an alternate narrative.” An idea occurred to Ernest, and he snapped his fingers. “What if we tell everyone she is a distant cousin? Not to hide the truth, because I do not give a damn about her origins, but to protect her?” In desperation, he reached across the table and grasped the stablemaster’s wrist. “I am begging you. Name your terms, ask any price, because I must have Henrietta as my wife.”

  “What if she decides otherwise?” The pedestrian query, innocently posed, was enough to strike fear in Ernest’s heart, because he had not let himself consider the possibility. “What if my daughter refuses to live a lie, as that is what you require of her? I have saved a sum of money that will offer her a fresh start, far away from you. In another place, she could be whatever she wants. How do you know she will obey your request, in the face of such an opportunity?”

  “Because I know her better than I know myself, and she will do it, if I ask it of her. If I explain it is for her own good, with so much hanging in the balance, she will cooperate.” Myriad ideas flittered through his brain, and he seized upon anything that supported his position. In seconds, a scheme took shape, and he nurtured and tended it. “We can create a persona, complete with a backstory to satisfy even the nosiest gossipmonger. And I will give her a season unlike any other, dress her in the finest gowns, and secure invitations to the most exclusive parties. By the time I am finished, Henrietta will be the envy of every debutante in London, and then she will walk the aisle at St. George’s.”

  “But she will not be herself. She will be something else.” Her father retreated and toyed with a dirty napkin. “Do you not see? Are you that blind?” Graham scowled. “You would force her to become what she is not, and what would you do with her, then? Would you not grow tired of her?”

  “No, that is not true, because I care for her.” Ernest waved dismissively, as everything inside him rebelled at the mere suggestion. “That will never happen, because Hen is too strong, and you underestimate her.”

  “Perhaps you idealize the situation, to my daughter’s detriment. You draw conclusions to suit your needs, with my daughter’s happiness in the balance.” The stablemaster bared his teeth, and Ernest sat back in his chair. “Regardless of your assumptions, the classes should not mix. In that, your father and I were in complete agreement.”

  “Is that why you signed my father’s contract, which took Henrietta from me?” Not for a minute would Ernest relent, when he was so close to winning his prize. “Still, she will not be deterred. She literally fell into my lap. Are you so invested in societal dictates that you refuse to recognize the fact that your daughter wants to be with me? Will you not consider what she desires?”

  Silence weighed heavy in the modest cottage.

  At last, Graham heaved a mournful sighed. “Lord Ernest, I remain in the employ of your family, and I have never brought dishonor upon my position. What I have done, I did for my daughter’s sake, and nothing more. That aside, what would you have of me?”

  “Sir, I mean no disrespect, but I am no young lad, and I will not let her go without a fight. You may discount our devotion, but Henrietta and I are bound by a power I cannot begin to describe. I only know it exists.” Clenching his fists at his sides, Ernest prayed for calm. “Your arrangement with my father is ended, and he is no more. Now let us discuss the matter like gentlemen, but heed my warning, and make no mistake, because I will not leave here without your permission to wed Henrietta. One way or another, she will be my wife.”

  ~

  After drying the last of her tears, Henrietta strolled to the small, fenced graveyard tucked behind the little estate chapel, which nestled beneath the thick canopy of a cluster of massive yews. Kneeling, she pulled a few brown weeds and cleared some rocks from her mother’s final resting place. So often, she wondered how her life would have been different, had her mother survived Hen’s birth.

  In that moment, given all the tumult, she desperately needed her mother.

  “How I wish I had known you.” Were it spring, she would have collected a bouquet of wildflowers to give to the woman who brought Henrietta into the world. “I have so many questions, and I have no one to ask. Papa broke faith with me, and Ernest wishes to marry me. How I need your sage advice, Mama.”

  Telltale hoofbeats signaled the arrival Hen anticipated, and she peered over her shoulder, as Ernest drew rein and jumped from the saddle. He was right. He knew her better than she knew herself, and in some respects that terrified her. Thus, her first instinct was to run, but she stood and held her ground.

  “Forgive me, sweetheart.” With a wild yet contrite expression, he charged her. As he pulled her into his arms, he bent his head and kissed her forehead. “I did not know you were unaware of the pact between our two fathers. Indeed, when I learned of it, I thought you complicit.”

  “And why would I know of it, given I was but eight years old and lacked the maturity to
understand such things?” To her dismay, the tears returned with a vengeance, and she sobbed. “Oh, Ernest, how could they do that to us? Was I so wrong for you? Did they think me a threat?”

  “According to your father, they sought to spare us the pain of eventual separation and heartbreak, owing to society’s predictable refusal to accept us.” After shifting her in his grasp, he cupped her cheek and pressed his lips to hers. “But I care not for the ton’s good opinion, as you are far more important to me.”

  “Then what do we do, because it seems as if the whole world is against us, and we have yet to begin the fight.” In desperation, she clung to the lapels of his coat and sniffed. “Even the servants treat me with disdain.”

  “What?” With a violent flinch, he set her at arm’s length. “Who abused you?”

  “It is nothing.” Unwilling to cause trouble, more than she had already, she clamped shut her mouth, as she should have said nothing.

  “Henrietta, tell me who hurt you, and I shall dismiss them, this instant.” When she shook her head and remained mute, he lowered his chin. “Give me the name, or I will fire the entire household of domestics, with my brother’s full support, because it is not their place to judge me, the company I keep, or my chosen bride.”

  In light of his dire warning, which she doubted not, she sighed.

  “It was Maisy.” In that moment, Hen cursed herself for mentioning the problem. “But what do you intend? Will you discharge everyone who offends me?”

  “If necessary, yes.” Given his rigid stance, she did not doubt him, and she adored his determination. “And you must defend your new station, else you will never succeed.”

  “Do you not see that would only foster more discontent among the servants? And what of those you do not employ?” Splaying her fingers across his chest, she tried but failed to muster outrage at the audacity of his position, because she loved his protective nature. “Will you call them out, in some sort of misplaced sense of chivalry? You and I both know we cannot force people to receive me in my new capacity.”