The Valet and the Stable Groom: M/M Regency Romance (17 page)

T
he stains
on Hildebert’s hands faded like ink within a matter of days.

“Perhaps I shall return to my calling as a poet,” Hildebert said. He was sitting in the breakfast room, gazing sadly out at the workshop as footmen and apprentice chemists scuttled back and forth. A complement of them had come from Hereford to dismantle the alchemy equipment, their services paid by the supplies that they would take.

“I think that would be highly advisable,” Clement said. He refilled Hildebert’s tea.

“But I… I do not feel poetic, Clement! I have lost my
muse
! And yet the siren song of alchemy…” He sighed deeply.

There was a growing stack of invoices and receipts waiting upstairs for Clement. Miss Grant was busy with planting and tilling efforts, and Jane wanted an update as to the expected dates, quantities, and income from such efforts, which couldn’t be provided until Clement finished the accounts and spoke to Miss Grant again about the numbers. Hildebert’s favourite morning suit had suffered some staining from the silver and required attention, though Clement hadn’t any idea whatsoever how one might remove silver nitrate stains from clothing and likewise had no idea as to whom he might apply for such information. Midgley had taken to scowling at him in the hallways, and needed to be pacified. Hugo likewise was developing a hangdog expression at the sight of Clement, but Clement did not imagine that the situation would be any improved if he were to turn up for dinner along with a stack of accounts to be sorted.

“Oh!” Clement said, dropping a lump of sugar into Hildebert’s tea.

“Oh?” said Hildebert.

“Er, the, ah, horses.” Clement paused with another lump of sugar above the cup. He realised that he had lost count of how many lumps of sugar he had put into Hildebert’s tea already. Was it one or two? He added another for good measure.

“What horses?”

“Your horses, sir. The second colt has been born.”

“Oh!” Hildebert repeated. “Oh, yes, I see. Took its dear time about that, didn’t it?”

Clement didn’t know enough about horse husbandry to make any sort of competent address to that question. He stirred the tea and nudged the cup toward his employer. “I thought that you might wish to visit the baby horses. As we discussed.”

“I would like that very much,” Hildebert said. He took a sip of his tea and coughed.

Clement tensed. “Sir?”

Hildebert took another tentative sip of tea. “This tea, Clement. It… it’s really
very
sweet.”

“Ah. I… my apologies, Mr. Devereux. I must have lost count of the lumps of sugar.”

Hildebert sipped again at his tea. “I rather like it.”

“Shall we go and visit the horses after luncheon? I shall inform Mr. Ogden of our planned visit, and come back to fetch you. I think the riding vestments would be best for visiting the stables, don’t you?” Clement planned to insist on it, dreading the thought of Hildebert visiting the stables in his light-coloured morning suit, but he found that it was always best if his employer thought that such things were his own idea.

“Oh, yes, to be sure.” Hildebert nodded vigorously. “One ought certainly wear horse clothes for visiting horses.”

P
assing
a footman on his way down the stairs, Clement sent him to mention the impending visit to Hugo. His heart ached briefly, wishing that he could go himself, and linger, but he was determined to take these few spare minutes in order to visit the gardens and hear from Miss Grant as to her progress.

By the time Clement had spoken with Miss Grant, obtained copies of her records and accounts, and consulted on the expansion of the gardens, it was past noon. He hastened back to the house to fetch Hildebert and see him properly dressed.

“How you delay, Clement!” Hildebert exclaimed, while Clement finished fastening the buttons on his cuffs. “Hurry along, man, I wish to see the horses.”

“At once, sir,” Clement said, not allowing himself to bristle as he completed the finishing touches to Hildebert’s costume. He was neatly attired in tan breeches, tall Hessian boots, a tastefully embroidered blue waistcoat, and a handsome brown coat with self-fabric buttons. Hildebert’s riding attire saw very little use, and Clement was pleased to have it out to air, though he did worry that Hildebert would somehow find a way to tip himself into a horse trough and ruin the whole ensemble.

Clement sent a footman on ahead of them, again, to inform Hugo that they were underway. He chafed with impatience as they walked at Hildebert’s leisurely pace, all the more so each time Hildebert chided him to hurry along.

Hugo stood waiting for them at the stable door. He bowed to Hildebert. “My lord.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Ogden,” Hildebert said. “I wish to see your small horses.”

Brows twitching together, Hugo looked to Clement for clarification. Clement shrugged.

“They are ordinary horses,” Hugo said. “You mean the foals?”

“Of course I mean the foals,” Hildebert huffed indignantly, striding past him into the stables.

“Of course,” Hugo repeated. “Just this way. Is my lord aware that there are breeds of horses which are small by nature, even when full grown?”

Hildebert stopped, clasping his hands to his chest in awe. “Are there?”

Hugo glanced to Clement again for assistance. “I’m surprised that you’ve not seen any, my lord. The Shetlands are the smallest type which may be easily got, from as near as London. There’s a Welsh cob to be found nearer, though it is not so very much smaller than an ordinary horse.”

“May we get some? I would very much like to have a flock of small horses.”

Stepping forward, Clement laid a gentle hand upon his employer’s elbow. “Perhaps in a few years. Until the income from the gardens and the cattle can be secured, the expense would ruin us.”

Duly admonished, Hildebert hung his head. “But there are still the baby horses.”

“There are indeed,” Hugo said. “Both of this year’s foals are excellent examples of horse flesh, and healthy. Ginger, the mother, is recovering handsomely from the difficult birth. Once the foals are a bit older, they can be sold for a decent sum, and we may wish to secure the services of a better quality stud to improve the bloodlines.”

“How can one tell the quality of a… of a stud?”

Hugo opened the gate to one of the stalls, allowing Hildebert to enter. The little foal was curled up in the hay, but it stood on wobbly legs as the door opened, pressing close against its mother’s side for protection as it gazed at the trio of humans. “That depends on what qualities one wishes to breed. These horses are bred for strength and health, which are the most desirable qualities in the local area, but they are common. One might breed a horse for beauty, for temperament, for racing, for battle.”

“Not for battle, I pray you!” Hildebert exclaimed. “My brother is very fond of recounting stories of his time in the army. The Napoleonic wars, you see, and very proudly he did comport himself. I have no taste for these things, none at all. I do recall him telling of a story when a horse… when a horse…”

Looking nervously over the two horses currently regarding him, Hildebert coloured and turned away. “Well, the poor creature,” he said. “I’m sure that it was very brave.”

“Not for battle,” Hugo confirmed, mouth curling up at the edges. “What about hunting?”

“Oh, no, I have no taste for hunting. I can’t imagine what crime the poor foxes have ever committed. Well, aside from the chickens, but I cannot blame them for wanting to eat chickens. If I were a fox, and had no cook and chickens of my own, I imagine that I would indeed covet my neighbour’s chickens.”

“Horse racing?” Hugo asked.

“What could be more dull! Watching horses go about in a loop. I don’t see the purpose of it at all.”

Hugo made a coughing sound which might have been a suppressed laugh. “Carriage horses, then.”

“Oh, carriage horses are perfectly respectable. There are few things more admirable in this world than a well-matched set of horses, don’t you agree?”

“To be sure.”

Intrigued, the foal tottered forward, nostrils flaring in little puffs as it took the measure of the strange, stout human in its midst.

“Offer the back of your hand,” Hugo said, demonstrating. “Like so.”

Hildebert did. The two of them, horse and noble, regarded each other with such fascinated wide eyes that Clement found his own lips twitching with amusement.

“He needs to be brushed,” Hugo said, fetching a nearby brush and bringing it over. “Would you like to see?”

“Oh, yes, please,” Hildebert said, watching with great interest as Hugo began to demonstrate.

“We’re not going to use the curry comb on the foal, since he is so small,” Hugo explained. “This is the dandy brush, we use it along the body of the horse to remove any dirt from his coat, and then we’ll follow with the softer body brush.”

“May I… May I try?” Hildebert asked, edging closer.

“If you’d like,” Hugo said, blinking in surprise. He handed over the brush, guiding Hildebert’s hand and explaining, and then stepping back to supervise as Hildebert took over the cleaning of the horse.

Hildebert was careful and attentive, with the same wide-eyed, fascinated skittishness as the colt he was brushing. Hugo talked as he worked, answering questions about grooming and breeding horses. After some minutes, he summoned over the stable hand with a body brush.

“Tell him about horses,” Hugo murmured, folding his arms and looking incredibly amused. Stepping forward, he cleared his throat to draw Hildebert’s attention. “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’m going to step aside to see to another horse. George will guide you, and I shan’t be far.”

“Yes, yes, fine,” Hildebert said, completely fascinated by the foal.

Leaving him to it, Hugo clasped Clement’s elbow and pulled him over to one of the other stalls.

“You look exhausted,” Hugo said, taking up a comb and starting to comb through the mane of the horse in that stall. “Have you been sleeping?”

“Nightly.” Clement smiled very slightly, barely finding the energy to dredge up humour.

“Enough?” Hugo asked.

“I’ve been busy.”

“I know it, Clement. I wonder if you have ever in your life not been busy.”

“I was considerably less busy when I was only the valet of the younger brother of a fully staffed household with a comfortable income. Here I am… as you’ve said. Engaged with a wide variety of tasks.”

“I worry,” Hugo said. He set the comb aside and stepped close, glancing over in the direction of Hildebert and the stable hand. They could be heard still discussing horse grooming, a topic in which Hildebert still seemed to be taking an interest.

Stealing only a brief kiss, Hugo took up the comb again and returned to the horse’s mane. Clement licked his lips, regretting that the kiss had been all too brief.

“I’ve meant to come,” Clement said, with a twinge of guilt.

Hugo didn’t look up. “I know.”

“I keep imagining that once I’ve caught up a bit on managing the accounts, I’ll be able to take an evening off.”

Hugo made no reply, continuing to draw the comb through the horse’s mane.

“I haven’t yet gotten to the reports from you regarding the cattle expenses. They’re among the accounts I need to process.”

“What reports?”

“The ones you gave me. About the initial sums and necessities for the cattle.”

“I haven’t given you any reports.”

“Didn’t you?” Clement rubbed absently at his face, feeling exhausted. “I must have dreamed it. I suppose that explains why I haven’t yet seen to them.”

“Do you need me to provide such reports?”

“Yes. As promptly as you can. Estimates will do, for now, until you have invoices.”

“I’ll see to it.”

The motion of the comb through the dark hair of the horse’s mane was slow and repetitive. Every so often Hugo paused to work out a knot. There was something soothing about it, as there was to nearly everything that Hugo did.

“Is there any progress with the cattle?” Clement asked.

“Miss Grant is planting the hedges I requested. I’ve narrowed my choice down to two herds in the area. I intended to make time this week to ride out and inspect the stock before I make my decision.”

“How many will you buy?”

“Twenty-five head to begin with. There’s space enough for more, but not money or manpower.”

Clement nodded. He leaned against the wood of the stall door, eyes closing briefly. His head fell forward, and he experienced the sharp sensation of beginning to fall that came with drifting off to sleep while upright.

Startling awake, Clement straightened his posture, not about to allow that to happen again.

“Clement,” Hugo said. He put down his comb and frowned at Clement.

“I’m well,” Clement said. “I’ll try to sleep early tonight.”

Hugo nodded, but the expression in his eyes as he turned back to the horse said that he did not believe him.

C
lement expected
that Hildebert’s enthusiasm about horses would have faded by the next day, now that he had seen the foals and had an extensive course in horse grooming, but as he took up Hildebert’s breakfast tray in the morning, he found Hildebert alert and impatient, taking out items from his own wardrobe and laying them upon the bed to choose between them. The items he had selected included a crocus-leaf green waistcoat, blue silk breeches in a style that had not seen fashion in decades, a saffron yellow neck-cloth, and a burgundy coat. It took all of Clement’s power of will not to grimace at the aggressively festive combination.

“Sir?” Clement asked, clearing his throat and approaching the selected costume with trepidation. “Is there some occasion today you wished to attend?”

“No occasion, Clement, don’t be foolish. I’m simply eager to see to the horses!”

“See to the horses,” Clement repeated, uncomprehending.

“Yes, to be sure. You will recall that Mr. Ogden did promise me a demonstration.”

“Did he?”

“Yes! Clement.” Hildebert frowned. “You are ever so forgetful lately, Clement. I do wonder what has been so occupying your mind!”