Page 27 of Secrets of the Marriage Bed
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They walked down the hill to the stables set away from the house. This was closer to what Julia had expected would be her lot in life as a girl. A handsome husband whose large gloved hand held hers against the crook of his elbow. A home in the country, similar to the one she had lived in growing up—before Father died and her brother took over the estate and her life.
Not that she’d ever imagined reaching as high as a duke. Her family had lost much of their land and influence after generations of lackadaisical earls who had preferred the spending of wealth to accumulation. And yet her breeding was as good and as old as his, so it wasn’t a completemésalliance, even if they had met in unusual and potentially scandalous circumstances.
The stables were a long low red-brick affair reached by way of a path across the lawns, or by way of a turn off the drive further down the hill. They passed through a red-brick arch and into a quadrangle laid with cobblestones in diagonal patterns that sloped into a runnel. In the centre was a large stone horse trough fed from a wrought-iron pump. The stables, red brick with a thatched roof, had sufficient room for a great many animals.
‘My goodness, how many horses do you keep here?’
‘The east end—’ he pointed ‘—holds various equipages. The rest are stalls. At the moment we have ten animals, most of whom are out to pasture. Several of the mares are in foal. Would you like to meet those in residence?’
‘I would love to.’
He strolled on. ‘When my father was alive, he kept a great many more horses, mostly for hunting. Now we have become more discerning and turned our attention to the racecourse.’
He guided her inside and along a corridor along a wall set with large windows at regular intervals and three sets of double doors, one at each end and one in the middle. On the other side was a row of stalls and loose boxes with windows under the eaves. The whole thing had a bright airy feel, though of course it was thick with the usual aromas of manure, horse and hay. A couple of the residents poked their heads over the top of the half-doors to see who had come to visit.
‘Your horses must count themselves fortunate to live in such modern accommodations,’ she said, recalling the details of her girlhood home for the first time in a long time. The stable where her father and now her brother kept his horses had no windows at all at ground level, the ceilings were low and the stalls on each side of the central aisle were dark and dingy. One needed a lamp to see much at all, even in the middle of a sunny day.
‘A happy horse is a healthy horse. Isn’t that right, Thor?’ His horse whiffled a greeting and nudged his owner with his nose. Alistair dug in the pocket of his jacket and produced a carrot.
Leaving the horse munching happily, they strolled down a row of mostly empty stalls.
‘Ah, here is the lady I was looking for.’ Julia, standing next to him, once again realised how tall he was as he leaned one arm on the top of the stall door on a level with her chin. Inside the larger loose box was a beautiful grey and her leggy coal-black foal.
‘Oh, how lovely.’
The mare wandered over to greet them. Alistair blew softly in her nose and she shook her head and pawed at the ground. ‘I know, Princess,’ he said. ‘You want to be let out.’
‘Princess? Is that her name?’
‘Her name and her nature,’ a voice with a faint Scottish burr said. The owner of the voice walked down the aisle towards them. He was a handsome man of about thirty, with sandy-coloured hair and bright blue eyes. He wore a homespun jacket and trousers of an indeterminate brown and a startlingly blue kerchief at his throat. ‘Welcome home, Your Grace.’
‘Jaimie, you rogue. Let me introduce you to my wife. Duchess, this is James McPherson, head lad here at Sackfield.’
‘Your Grace.’ Jaimie bowed with a little twirl of his wrist. ‘Welcome to my domain.’
There was something oddly familiar about the man, though Julia knew she had never met him before. Perhaps it was the intensity of his piercing blue gaze. ‘Thank you, Mr McPherson.’
‘Call him Jaimie,’ Alistair said. ‘Everyone else does, from the land steward to the scullery maid. Jaimie charms them all.’
Clearly her husband liked this man. His expression was less chilly than usual. Julia smiled. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Jaimie.’
Jaimie grinned back, then turned his gaze on Alistair. ‘So... Here you are for another summer visit.’
‘How is everything?’
The stable master began a report full of horses’ names and various ailments and other needs. While the two men communed, Julia wandered further along the row of stalls. The stables were a wonder of cleanliness and care. Jaimie McPherson clearly knew his business.
‘Bella!’ she exclaimed as the little mare hung her head over her stall door.
‘Found her, did you?’ Alistair said, coming up beside her.
McPherson must have left, for all of a sudden there was no sign of him.
‘When did she arrive?’
‘I sent her down a few days ago. I assumed you would want to ride during your stay here.’ He frowned. ‘Perhaps being unwell you would prefer going about by carriage.’
