Growing silent, the three of them watched as the mare pushed, groaning occasionally, and within minutes, a nose emerged. Keeping quiet, Miss Betham clapped her hands in delight, garnering yet another glance exchanged between Maximilian and Fergus.
Fergus turned aside, jerking his head for Maximilian to follow. “I do believe that wee lass is the first woman in here tonotrun screaming in horror at the sight of a birthing.”
Maximilian grinned. “It is why I like her.”
“Me, too.”
They turned back in time to see the entire head emerge, still covered in the milky placenta. Maximilian saw the foal’s eyes blink, then its shoulders slithered out. Within a few more contractions, a dark wet body lay in the straw, breathing its first gasps of air – of life.
“What happens now?” Miss Betham asked in a whisper.
“Watch.”
The newly born foal shook its ears as its mother rested for a few minutes. Then, as the groom scrambled away to give her room, she heaved her way to her feet. Turning around, the birth sack hanging from her hindquarters, the mare began to lick her baby.
“Oh,” Miss Betham breathed, tears streaming down her lovely face. “Is that not just lovely?”
“I have always thought so,” Maximilian said, smiling down at her as he fished his handkerchief from his pocket to give to her. “The best part comes in a few minutes.”
It appeared Miss Betham forgot to breathe from what Maximilian observed. As the grey mare continued to lick her dark brown offspring, the foal tried to stand up. After several tries and as many flops into the straw, the foal finally managed to stand on shaky legs. Miss Betham blew out her breath in a swift gust, making Maximilian chuckle.
“A filly,” Fergus announced.
The foal wobbled erratically as she tottered to her dam’s flank and discovered her teat. Maximilian drew in his own deep sigh as the newborn took in her first meal.
“A miracle in truth,” Miss Betham said, wiping more tears from her eyes.
“Feed her a warm bran mash,” Maximilian told the groom. “Watch her closely.”
The groom bowed, still in the stall with the pair. Maximilian glanced at the sunlight streaming in through the windows and gauged it was late afternoon. He gestured for Miss Betham to accompany him, as Fergus remained behind to also watch over mother and baby. “How is it you are able to spend so much time away from Lady Helena?” he asked as they walked.
“My mistress was invited to embroider with the Duchess,” she answered, walking at his side.
“Invited, eh?”
He knew perfectly well what such an ‘invitation’ meant. The poor girl was forced, by a veiled order, to sit with his stepmother, cloistered in the solar, to embroider. Imagining what Lady Helena was suffering right now, he almost shuddered. “I expect that she will be in there for at least another hour. That gives you a bit of time to wash and change your clothes before she needs you again.”
Miss Betham gazed down at her soiled gown and brushed at some of the bits of straw still clinging to it. She sighed. “I suppose you are right. Thank you for all this, Your Grace. I really enjoyed it.”
“Miss Betham, the pleasure is all mine.”
Maximilian watched her hurry across the green lawn toward the castle, missing her presence before she disappeared inside.
* * *
“I have been planning this all month,” Maximilian barely held in his anger. “I am certain our guests will not be offended if I am gone for a day.”
Augusta sniffed. “That is not the point. Your duty is to remain here while we have guests under our roof.”
“My duty is to also keep promises, Madam. I made this promise a long time ago. And I am certain you are quite up to the task of keeping our visitors entertained. Perhaps you might have both Lady Whitington and Lady Helena in your solar embroidering.”
She shot him a sharp glance. “That was uncalled for.”
Maximilian shrugged. “I think it is rude the way you demand they dance to your tune. Lady Helena should not have to be shut away with you while you criticize her sewing abilities.”
“That is none of your business.”
“It is if they run away from my home in horror.”
