Page 14 of A Bonny Pretender
“Very much.” It didn’t hurt to keep his eyes open now. His stomach growled. “You wouldn’t have thought to order some breakfast?”
“Of course, sir. I arranged for it as soon as I was prepared for the day.” He waved a hand at a side table. Several plates held cold sliced beef, cheese, and thick slices of bread. “Eat and then shave, sir?”
“I don’t think I pay you enough,” Frank said around a mouthful of cheese. “And I want you to know this is not my habit every time I come to London. I haven’t been that foxed since university.”
“I’ve never seen you in such condition at Castle Raygin, my lord.” Another small smile. “May I offer my sincerest hope that you achieve your goal while here in London?”
“My goal?”
“I believe your exact words were, ‘I need a wife, Barker. A sweet wife in my bed. Every. Night.’ You were adamant on the subject.”
Should he reprimand the man for impudence or nod in agreement? Neither, as he let out a loud shout of laughter.
*
Same morning
Across Town
Brigid pulled onthe long cambric shirt, wool breeches, and boots. She twisted her hair, pinned it on top of her head, and pulled on a cap. A baggy coat with the collar pulled up completed her ensemble. The maid had already been in to start the fire, and she’d told her she wasn’t feeling well and would stay in bed later today.
As she crept down the servant stairs, head down, she thought of Lady Franklin. If her hostess were to find out, Brigid might be sent back to Aunt Maeve. She grinned. This was worth it.
She made her way outside and to the stable. The young grooms had saddled two horses and were peering around the corner. “Are ye nervous, lads? I’ll let ye out of the bargain.” She’d heard the stablehands arguing over who would ride which horse during the morning exercise. When Brigid found out they rode to Hyde Park and galloped on Rotten Row, she wanted in. Every few days, she met two of them behind the stables and pretended to be one of the lads. In exchange, she saved whatever sweets or baked goods she could carry in her pocket.
Evie had remarked that perhaps Brigid had grown overly fond of the English treats. Brigid had nodded, smiled, and been more furtive when taking the biscuits or sweetmeats. Now she handed over the biscuits and jam wrapped in a napkin. “Remember to leave the cloth somewhere in the kitchen where they’ll find it. After ye’ve gone,” she reminded them.
One of the horses was a stout, midnight black gelding. It had the same glossy coat as her own horse but with a white blaze peeking out from a long forelock. “I want this one, if ye dinna mind.” She bit her lip, hoping the pain would take her mind off home. She longed for a chat with her mother by the fireplace or big, smothering hug from her grandda. Did Brodie and Kirsty think of her?
“No, miss,” one said as he pulled a bite from the muffin and popped it in his mouth.
The other lad bent over, hands on his bent knees, acting as a mounting block for Brigid. She smiled. “I appreciate the offer, but I can manage.”
“Watch this,” said the first boy, pointing at Brigid.
She walked the horse outside, grabbed the reins and thick black mane, and vaulted into the saddle. The stirrups were a good height, so she slipped her boots in and called to the lads. “Whoever is coming with me, best hurry. I must be back before breakfast.”
“Aye, miss,” called the first stable hand, awe in his green eyes. He tried to do the same as Brigid but slid down the side of the horse. With a red face, he flipped over an empty bucket and used it to hop on.
The Franklins lived in Mayfair, and it was an easy ride to Hyde Park. While her escort munched on his muffin, Brigid’s mind drifted back to the day she’d met Lord Raines from the North. He had taken her breath away. His light blond hair brightened in the sun like a Viking. Those honest, gray eyes reminded her of the melted steel at the blacksmith’s shop. The easy smile with straight white teeth, wide shoulders, and commanding seat in the saddle had sent butterflies swarming in her stomach. While his coloring was fair, his skin had seen years in the sun. The laugh lines around his eyes added to his good looks, making him mature and worldly.
Brigid put a hand on her belly to still the tumbling. He was cultured, polished, and everything she didn’t think she liked in the other men she’d met. Yet, the intense gaze they’d shared at that first meeting… Her heart thrummed at the memory. They had briefly spoken again at a soiree. He’d bent and kissed her gloved hand before a countess had demanded his attention. That same night, she’d dreamt of her first kiss.
Would she see him again? Did she dare ask Mr. Wilkens about him? Or Evie? No, Lady Brecken would only play matchmaker. With a grin, she remembered their shocked looks on the drive back to Mayfair that day.
“You’ve been taking in everything I’ve said and only pretended not to care!” exclaimed Evelina. “You’ve been cutting a sham. I can’t believe I fell for it.”
“If you were a man, we’d make a fortune gaming. Such an impassive face,yetquite convincing,” added Mr. Wilkens. “I almost believed you were a shy innocent myself.”
“I suppose I needed the right motivation,” Brigid defended herself, not that she cared. She’d just discovered the reason to be the perfect London miss. And not even an English-born lady would surpass her sudden interest in etiquette and mundane conversation.
What was on their schedule for the rest of the week? She went through a mental list of the invitations received. Yes! The theater tomorrow night. Would he be there?
Her horse nickered, and she recognized the bridle path of Hyde Park. There were other grooms out, exercising their masters’ horses. During her first early morning adventure, no one paid attention to Brigid. The second time, she’d received several curious looks. Today, they whispered and looked away when caught staring.
When she pulled in her mount after a long canter, Brigid put a hand on the groom’s rein as he went to turn his horse. “They ken who I am?”
The stable hand gave her a lopsided grin. “Joey was bragging about you bein’ a woman. He didn’t mean no harm. We think you’re bang up to the mark, miss. No one knows your name, and I told ‘em you were a servant of one of the guests.”
“Thank ye. Let’s keep it that way, shall we?” Brigid decided to stay silent. Her brogue would surely give her away. “One more gallop before we head back, eh?” How she loved this long strip that allowed for speed. The wind against her face, the muscles of her mount beneath her, the sound of pounding hoofs against the soft earth—it was heaven. The Lady’s Mile bridle path provided a safe place for those who preferred a sedate ride. Och, what would be the point of that?
An hour later, she slipped up the back stairs, head down, and ran into something.Saints and sinners!She peered up to find Evie’s maid, Louella, grinning at her.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” the girl said cheerfully, light brown wisps escaping her mobcap. “Be in the dining room within fifteen minutes, and no one will be the wiser.”
Brigid mouthed a “thank you” and hurried to her room. Her mind had already moved on to which dress she would wear the next evening, how she should arrange her hair, and what accessories would be appropriate. Something blue to bring out her eyes. Any jewel-tones complimented her hair, according to Evie. As she reached the top step, her hand froze on the door. What just happened?
Ye’ll surprise yerself at what ye’re capable of for the right mon,her mother had said.
But Brigid MacNaughton having a serious one-sided conversation with herself about fashion? May pigs fly and her grandda admit he was wrong, for the world had tipped upside down.
