Lilith and the Stable Hand Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Lilith and the Stable Hand

  Bluestocking Brides

  Samantha Holt

  Series Select

  Scarsdale Publishing

  COPYRIGHT © 2017 Lilith and the Stable Hand by Samantha Holt

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations imbedded in critical articles or reviews.

  www.scarsdalepublishing.com

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  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Shameless

  Chapter One

  There was a rustle as Lilith entered the room. Her brother and sister-in-law swung a glance between them and a little color lingered in Catherine’s cheeks.

  Lilith scowled at them both, hands to hips. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing at all,” Catherine said brightly.

  Sprawled across the sofa, her new sister had her feet propped on one end while her head rested in her husband’s lap. Catherine and Lilith’s brother had been married a few months now and it was taking a little getting used to having her closest friend and her brother so in love, but she enjoyed seeing how happy they were together.

  And of all the sisters to have, Catherine was the best. She had to be the most unconventional, funny, and bluestockingy marchioness in the country, and for that Lilith was grateful. How awful it would have been had Thorney married some prim and proper bore of a woman while Lilith was still stuck living with her brother.

  Lilith eyed Catherine. She knew when her friend lied, and she was certainly lying now. “Kitty?”

  Catherine lifted the book in her hand higher to cover her face. “Yes, Lil?”

  “What is going on? You both look as though you have been plotting something awful.”

  Thorney shrugged. “I haven’t a clue what you are talking about.”

  Her brother avoided her gaze. Something was up, she was certain of it. For one, they were the quietest she had ever seen them. Her brother was not known for his rampant conversation, but Catherine had changed that somewhat. He had grown more relaxed and open to talking since meeting his wife. However, it was rare that he sat around doing nothing. No one could stop Thorne keeping himself occupied—not even Catherine—even if it was simply by reading the paper.

  Which brought her to point two. His hands were empty. Save from the one that was absently stroking Catherine’s knee through her gown. Lilith averted her gaze. Seeing her brother, the stern and hardworking Marquis of Thornefield, so in love and all affectionate was a strange thing to witness. Of course, she knew he was capable of such emotions as he had always been the best brother a girl could wish for, but she had never thought he was capable of such emotions with other people.

  Thank goodness she had noticed the change in him when Catherine was around. She did not think it was entirely unfair for her to take some of the credit for their relationship. After all, she had been instrumental in ensuring they had the odd sneaky moment alone together—whether they had wanted it or not.

  “Thorney,” she pressed.

  “I have little idea what you are on about.” Her brother made a show of reaching nonchalantly for a cup of tea and adding sugar to it. “Tea, Kitty?”

  Catherine lowered her book and shook her head. “I am full from all those cakes.” She nodded toward an empty plate scattered with crumbs.

  Thorney laughed. “Of course you are.”

  Afternoon sun streamed in through the large windows of the drawing room. It glinted off the gilded embellishments in the room, lingering on the cornicing and the arms of various chairs, bouncing from the curved chair legs and glistening off the chandelier above. The beautiful weather could not distract her from her cause, though. Something was wrong, and she was determined to discover what it was.

  “Kitty!” Lilith blew out an exasperated breath.

  Catherine lowered the book to her lap and another look passed between the newlyweds. Lilith pressed her lips together and glared at them.

  “Why do we not go for a walk?” suggested Catherine. “It’s a wonderful day.”

  “An excellent idea,” her brother agreed. “I shall stay here if you do not mind. I have some accounts to see to.”

  “A fine idea,” Catherine replied too jovially.

  “No.” Lilith shook her head.

  No, this was all wrong. Catherine understood her brother’s need to work and that he had many responsibilities but that did not mean she would not tease him about having to work or badger him to ensure that he did not spend too long cloistered away in his office.

  Catherine lifted a slender red brow. “No?”

  “No. Neither of you are going anywhere until you tell me what is making you act so strangely. I heard you whispering before I entered the room, you know.”

  “Are married people not allowed a few secrets?” asked Thorney dryly.

  “Not when they involve one’s sister, no,” Lilith told him.

  He hefted out a sigh and shot Catherine a helpless look. His wife rolled her eyes and shook her head.

  “You’re weak.” She sat and gave his arm a gentle slap.

  “For goodness sakes’, please tell me what on earth is going on?”

  Thorney shifted a little and slowly drew out a newspaper from underneath where he sat. He handed it over, his expression grim.

  “Just remember it is only silly gossip,” Catherine declared. “No one will care or recollect it tomorrow.”

  With a frown, Lilith took the paper and scanned the ink until her gaze landed on a cartoon alongside some text. It did not take her long to understand why her brother and friend were acting so strange.

  A dart of pain lanced through her. Instant humiliation made her cheeks hot and her limbs tremble. All those awful moments she had tried so hard to forget came rushing back to her.

  England’s clumsiest lady? read the headline of the slender column tucked into one side of the page. Lady T debuts in awkward style, read the by-line. At the very bottom was a cartoon of a woman being whirled about the dance room. She was treading on her partner’s toes whilst knocking over a glass into the bosom of a well-endowed lady.

  Her chest grew tight. She had tried so hard to forget it all. They had had been returned from
London for several weeks and she had kept herself busy with visiting friends and helping at the orphanage. She had thought with time the memories of the worst moments of her life might fade.

  Apparently even if she forgot, the gossip columns were determined not to let her. She looked at the young girl in the cartoon. It was clearly meant to be her. The character had dark hair that was coiled dramatically high but was coming loose. It was the girl’s figure that most resembled her. Even though she was aware they had exaggerated it—giving her a bosom and hips that would take up an entire carriage seat—it still hurt most grievously. So much so that her fingers had grown numb and tingly and her breaths rattled in her chest. She had been slightly plump and curvy for as long as she could remember. It had been brought her attention in many ways, some of it complimentary but unwanted and some of it quite vile indeed.

  This was certainly on the vile end.

  Catherine touched her hand and it was only then that she realized her friend had come to stand next to her. “Throw it away. It does not mean anything. You know what these awful columns are like. Just remember what they said about me when I married Thorne.”

  Lilith nodded, biting down on her lip. The columnists had been just as cruel, wondering why a marquis would want a freckled, redheaded bluestocking for a wife. But Catherine had been at the end of malicious gossip before with some scandal in their family’s past and was quite used to it all.

  “It will all be forgotten soon,” her brother assured her.

  Lilith nodded again. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps it would be. But not by her. How could she forget how horribly wrong her first season had gone? How could she ever even step foot in London again after such a disaster?

  “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, aware her voice came out huskily, “I think I shall take a walk. It is a wonderful day after all.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Catherine suggested.

  Lilith shook her head. “No, I think I need some—” She could not bring herself to finish her sentence. The word cut off mid-sob and she flew from the room before anyone could say anything.

  She took the stairs down out of the house and sprinted across the front lawns as fast as she could go in slippers and gown. She paused when she reached the stables that were tucked to one side of her brother’s estate. The large, imposing building housed the carriages and all the horses that her brother was breeding. A clock sat in the middle of the roof and through her blurred vision she could see it was nearly half past three.

  Gulping down a breath and swiping her eyes, she pushed open the main door to the stables and peered in. The scent of hay and a little horse manure tinged the air but there was silence apart for the shuffling of horses in their stalls.

  No one was around, thank goodness.

  She climbed the ladder up into the hayloft and pressed her back against a straw bale. She eyed darkened rafters above, plucked up a piece of straw, and forced herself to take another deep breath. It was not worth crying over. It really was not.

  So what if she had made a mess of her debut? So what if people thought her the clumsiest, most unladylike lady in all of England’s history? Like Catherine said, it would all be forgotten soon. Once the next season came around, everyone would be focused on the next debutantes.

  No doubt they would all do a better job of it than her. They would be refined and elegant and would never spill wine on Lady Stanley’s cleavage or tread on Lord Gainsborough’s toes so badly that he needed to leave to ice them.

  They would certainly never knock over a lamp and break it into a thousand pieces. Nor would they accidentally insult Viscount Kettering by telling him how dull his hobby of stamp collecting was.

  There were many other moments like that. Moments where she had said the wrong thing or stepped incorrectly or trod on a man’s foot. By the end of their stay in London, hardly anyone wanted to go near her. Were it not for Catherine’s sisters, Lilith would have been utterly friendless. After all, who would want to be friends with England’s clumsiest lady?

  A sob bubbled out of her. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She removed her spectacles and cast them aside, uncaring as to where they want, and pressed her face into her knees to let out a wail of frustration. Why could she not do better? Why had it all gone so horribly wrong?

  She would never go back into society, that much was certain. All her ideas of having a wonderful debut and being swept off her feet by a loving, handsome lord of some kind were dashed. No man in her right mind would want her now.

  Chapter Two

  Harry paused in the doorway to the stables. He was not aware anyone was in there and he knew everything that went on at the stables. Though he had only been working for the sixth marquis since he had taken over from his late father, Harry had quickly been given more and more responsibility. Now he was second in command to the head groom. He hoped that would change soon.

  He cocked his head and listened. There it was again. An odd squeak of a sound. Certainly nothing to do with the horses. He’d known horses all his life and they never made sounds like that.

  Slowly, he reached for the hay fork that had been discarded to one side. If the intruder was seeking shelter, it could be some criminal kind, on the run from the law or something similar. Harry was not unused to holding his own when needed and his job kept him strong, but he would not take unnecessary risks.

  He ascended the ladder as quietly as he could, fork in hand. His heart gave a thud when he spotted the bundle of pale white muslin pressed up against a bale of hay.

  “My lady?”

  He lowered the fork onto the floor as quietly as he could and climbed fully into the hayloft. The low eaves forced him to remain bent over when he approached her as though coming upon a wounded animal.

  Harry might spend more time with horses than women these days, but he knew a wounded woman when he saw one. The marquis’s sister lifted her head long enough for him to see the tracks of tears marring her pale cheeks. She burrowed her head quickly and slung her arms around her head.

  “Go away.” The words were muffled.

  “I don’t think I can, my lady, not when you are in such a state.” He sidled over and eased himself down beside her.

  Lady Lilith had to be the sweetest lass he knew and everyone at the estate adored her. If anyone knew he’d left her in such a state, they’d have his hide. Hell, he’d hate himself anyway. If it were possible for a lady and a stable-hand to be friends, he certainly considered them to be. There was many a day when she came by his stables to visit with the horses and talk to him.

  “Stop calling me ‘my lady’. I am no lady.” A sob escaped her, and her shoulders shook.

  Harry drew in a breath. He’d never been good at handling women’s emotions. His late wife could attest to that. What man was, though? He reached out a hand and laid it carefully on the top of her back. She did not flinch as he might have expected. The tiny notches of her spine and chill of her skin made her seem more delicate and vulnerable than usual. How long had she been up here? If she wasn’t careful, she would catch a damned chill. He had to resist the urge to pull her further into him to warm her. If anyone spotted them together in some kind of embrace, he’d lose his job or worse.

  “Nonsense,” he murmured.

  “It’s true,” she wailed, lifting her head. “I am a terrible lady. The worst. Even the newspapers say so.”

  Harry scowled. He had little idea what newspapers had to do with this but then he was not exactly experienced in the ways of lords and ladies. In his few months working for a grand house, he’d learned quickly, but as a stable-hand, he was not meant to get involved in anything other than the horses, and he tended to ignore the gossip between the servants. If he ever intended to be head groom, he needed to work, not gossip.

  “I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that, lass.”

  “It is. It’s the worst.” Another tremble wracked her.

  He moved closer. What choice did he have? He could hardly let her freeze to death a
nd become ill. She leaned into him as though drawn in by the warmth of his body. All too aware of how fragile and soft she felt against him, he curved a hand around her shoulder and held her there while another bout of sobs tore through her.

  His heart beat fiercely. A protective swell burrowed through him. If there was someone he could fight to fix this, he’d bloody well do it, but he suspected whatever problems afflicted Lilith, there was not much a stable-hand could do about it. But at least he could comfort her. That was something.

  Rubbing his hand up and down her arm, he murmured what he hoped were reassuring words to her. Apparently he was terrible at this as the words made things worse. Her body shuddered, and she laced a hand around him to grip at the collar of his shirt. Harry was powerless to do anything but draw her closer and cradle her against his chest. She burrowed her head against him and he wrapped himself entirely around her.

  For want of anything right to say, he simply held her. Teeth gritted, he tried to ignore how nice it was to have a woman in his arms. His late wife had always declared that he had been designed to hold a woman—that his large body and protective nature were simply perfect for such a thing. Meredith might have been right. Despite the fact he should not be taking any pleasure in Lilith’s misery, he could not help but like the way her body curved into his and how she fit so perfectly there.

  After some time, the sobs dissipated, turning into little hiccups of noise. There was a snuffle and she lifted her head to look at him. “I am so sorry,” she said mournfully.