Charles flung open the door to his private study and slammed it behind him, then fell into the chair that faced his desk. He’d endured more than any man should have to take that evening, at least more than a man of his station should have to tolerate. What nerve that scoundrel had coming here! And of Thomas for sending the man to carry out their plans while also sharing Charles’ name! It was no wonder the lowly scum had arrived here; at least he’d had the good sense to send word ahead of his arrival.
Charles shuddered to think what he would have done if this man had appeared while Marjorie or Harriet had been dining with him, or if it had been one of the rare occasions when he’d entertained some of his fellow peers. Good lord, what if the Duke had chanced by to speak with him, or to visit with Marjorie? How would Charles have ever explained the presence of a filthy, lice-ridden lay about who could be bought for unpleasant tasks?
Instinctively, Charles looked up at the portrait that hung on the wall. His wife’s serene face smiled reassuringly back at him and for a moment, he felt a tiny sense of calm.
“Aye, my dearest Margaret. What have I done? I’ve made a mess of it all, but I was only trying to… never mind that,” he said, his frown deepening. “What’s done is done, and I cannot go back on it now. I could not put a stop to it if I wanted to.”
Chapter 14
Marjorie’s carefully crafted plan had yet to unfold by the next morning. Planning a trip of the kind she would need required time and letters, and neither could be obtained with the mere wave of a hand. While she waited for her father to leave the house for the day, she put it all into motion.
By the time it was safe for her to venture out to the Sedgewick stables, the sun had already risen substantially. Harriet, dear helper that she was, saw to asking for one of the common horses to be saddled and brought around by the kitchen while Marjorie hurriedly dressed. Valiant would be too noticeable, too valuable a horse for a lowly stable hand to ride, and Marjorie simply couldn’t face seeing her beloved horse’s face when she entered the stalls but left her beautiful stallion behind.
“Wish me good fortune that I still have a position,” she said to Harriet as they parted at the doorway. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find I’m banned from the estate for my tardiness!”
Marjorie raced across the vast open fields towards the nearby estate, guiding the horse to run faster with the heel of her low-cut leather shoe. Riding like this, open and without a care for what anyone may think, was almost enough to soothe her raw nerves at the prospect of being out of a job before she’d ever had the chance to begin.
No sooner had the pair crossed over a wide stream that cut through the county than Marjorie heard a pitiful noise, a bellowing of some wild-sounding creature. She sat up straight in the saddle and pulled back on the reins gently, bouncing in the saddle as the horse slowed from a full canter to a hurried walk.
“Do you hear that too?” she asked when the animal took some hesitant steps, backing away from the direction of the sound. “I wonder what that could be, although there’s little doubt it’s a pained creature.”
Marjorie led them towards the next mournful cry, following the sound of crashing limbs and crunching leaves. She pulled back a clump of thicket, ignoring the painful thorns that dug into her palms, and found the source of the commotion.
“Oh, the poor frightened animal!” Marjorie exclaimed, looking to a wild-eyed lamb. “The branches have become tangled in its wool.”
Ignoring the tiny lamb’s cries of protest, Marjorie set to work freeing the creature. When she had finally reached the last branch that had wound its way around the lamb’s front leg, she made sure to hold it by the back of the neck lest it bolt away in fright.
“There you are, you naughty thing. What are you doing so far from home?” Marjorie nuzzled it softly as she looked around. “Are you come from Sedgewick’s too? It’s the only house within the distance your little legs could carry you. Let’s go, we’ll see if you belong there. But I’m afraid we’ll have to ride faster than you might like!”
Tucking the small lamb inside her vest and fastening all the buttons tightly, Marjorie pulled herself back up onto her horse’s back. The lamb kicked furiously at being so high off the ground, but then settled comfortably once Marjorie spoke calmly.
Marjorie shifted the reins to one hand so she could press the other to her chest, keeping the lamb secure. She urged the horse on, chastising herself for stopping even for one so desperately in need.
“Well, my tiny friend, if I’m out of a job, at the very least we’ll have you for dinner!” she teased, knowing she could never bring herself to dine on a creature she’d saved from mortal danger.
“There’s the manor, and the stables are beyond. Hurry up!” She leaned over the horse’s neck, still cradling the lamb inside her vest, and rose up out of the saddle to better let the horse run beneath her.
* * *
At the sound of approaching hoofbeats, Donohue looked up from his work. The farrier who was making his weekly rounds followed the stable master’s gaze and watched the horse and rider racing alongside the brook.
“Wouldya look at that? Who is that?” the farrier asked, amazed.
“I don’t know. Whoever they are, they’re in a mad hurry,” Donohue replied, still watching in equal parts concern and amazement. When the rider led the horse over the bridge in the distance and towards the stables, Donohue’s eyes widened.
“I may be wrong, but that looks to be our new stable hand,” he said. He jumped when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. Turning, he was surprised to see Evan had come up behind him.
“No. That’s our new rider,” the Earl said, beaming as a brilliant thought entered his head.
Evan strode across the yard to wait for the rider who’d come up. Jonathan, as he’d said his name was, slowed as he approached, a worried look on his face. He pulled up to the stable and let his horse slow to a walk before jumping down and sliding the reins over the animal’s head.
“Begging yer pardon, My Lord. I’m sorry for the late hour—” Jonathan began, keeping his eyes down.
“I should say so,” Evan interrupted angrily. “Do you know the hour? I expected you here at a more proper time, a time when the work was still to be done. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Jonathan started to speak, but Evan stopped him again.
“What is that? What are you holding there?” he demanded, and Jonathan reached into his vest. The lamb bleated piteously as it was handed over.
