Happily Ever Afters Guaranteed (16 page)

I felt nauseous. The carriage arrived, saving
me from further humiliation. Or was there anything worse than what
I felt now?

Though I still hadn’t mastered the skirts
this century forced me to wear, I managed to throw myself into the
carriage without help, and without falling.

Numb. The feeling came over me in a cloying
blanket. Same as is had when I found out about Jared’s
betrayal.

I turned my face to the window and closed my
eyes, praying that everyone would leave me alone. I couldn’t face
any of them right now.

Was I so worthless? How could I be betrayed
both in this life and in the future? Hurt pounded against my heart,
like a hammer to an anvil. But my heart wasn't made of iron. It
shattered.

Somehow, I managed to hold my tears at bay. I
would not cry about Jared again. And Andrew certainly did not
deserve one tear either.

###

A week later, I was no closer to finding a
way home. Minerva avoided me day and night, often slipping into the
room after I’d doused the candle. My conscience prodded me to make
amends with her, but my broken spirit demanded she pay for what
she’d done to me.

I spent most of my days staying a step ahead
of Andrew. If he was out-of-doors, I stayed in the salon or
library. If he was indoors, I went out on the moors. Most of the
time riding Belvidere, but this afternoon I walked.

I could no longer avoid the conclusion I’d
denied until now. This was all God's fault.

So, in the same vein of pride Job suffered
from, I challenged Him. God, why? Why did You let the people I
trust betray me?

Nothing. No response except the soft breeze
that rustled the grasses.

What’s wrong with me?

My past, in the future, was all confused with
the life I now found myself in. Jared and Hannah might as well be
Minerva and the man – I didn't even know his name – who'd caused my
scandal here.

And Andrew was all mixed up in it, too.

What I felt for him was stronger than
anything I’d felt for Jared, but he’d hurt me by his cruel words,
spoken to another.

Answer me, God. Why do I deserve this?

“The LORD your God goes with you; he will
never leave you nor forsake you."

The words came to me, a soft whisper in the
gathering dusk. They must have been from one of the Bible verses
I’d learned as a child, but I couldn’t remember what chapter and
verse. I wanted to reject the comfort they offered.

It doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“The LORD your God goes with you; he will
never leave you nor forsake you."

I fell to my knees in the fragrant heather.
My fingers pressed against the ground. I knew one thing for
certain: I didn’t want to hurt any more. I wanted to let God take
my pain.

With that realization, peace began to steal
into my heart. The heart I'd been trying to protect, but couldn't.
Tears I thought were long gone slipped from my eyes. God was with
me. Maybe I could go on. Maybe I could find my place.

Warmth rushed through me, so much that I
could no longer feel the cool breeze nipping at my bare arms. God
was with me.

Galloping hoofbeats brought my head up.
Quickly, I wiped the remaining tears from my cheeks. Backlit by the
sun, I couldn't see the face of the rider. But I knew the horse.
Andrew.

He rode directly toward me and stopped, only
feet away. I couldn't read his expression in the shadow of the
sun's halo. I resisted the urge to look away. I couldn’t fathom a
reason why he would seek me out.

“Forgive me.”

My heart hammered at the breathlessness of
his tone.

“For interrupting your walk.”

I didn’t know how to respond. Part of me
wanted to walk away, but my limbs felt weak. How could I still
react so strongly to his presence?

“Miss Mattie, the mare is foaling and
something has gone terribly wrong.”

Oh.

I quashed the seed of hope that blossomed
inside me. He needed help with his horse. I looked down, so he
wouldn't see my disappointment.

“I know you have no incentive to help me,”
Andrew continued, his voice low.

A proper English lady would never work with
animals.

“And every reason to despise me.”

But the time spent with Andrew might be worth
any reproach I would receive from Minerva. It wasn’t as if I had a
stellar reputation to protect anyway.

“If you cannot find it in your heart to help
me...” I heard his exhaled breath over the breeze that rushed in my
ears. “I beg you to have pity on the horse.”

Slowly, I looked up. His eyes were still
unreadable. I took one step toward him. “Of course I’ll come. I'll
meet you at the stable.”

He shook his head. “I fear there’s no time.
We must hurry.” And he reached out his hand for me.

I grasped it, trying to ignore the emotion
that his touch evoked. With a little boost, he swung me up behind
him. My skirt made for an awkward fit and I ended up doing a
modified sidesaddle thing without the saddle. There was no pommel
for me to grab, so I did the next best thing for my balance and the
worst thing for my equilibrium: I wrapped my arms around Andrew's
waist and twined my fingers together.

“All right?”

“Yes.” It would have to be.

He wheeled the gelding toward the stable and
the horse responded to his urgings to canter. Wind, made stronger
by our speed, whipped my hair from its pinnings into my eyes,
causing them to water. I closed my eyes and pressed my cheek into
the back of Andrew’s jacket.

Being this close to Andrew was indescribable
torture. Through his coat, I could feel the muscles in his back,
his almost imperceptible movements to stay balanced on the horse.
Goosebumps prickled my arms from the cool wind that whirled around
us, but all I could feel was Andrew’s warmth seeping into me.

His hand covered my bare, intertwined
fingers, shielding them from the elements and sending heat up my
arms. I trembled.

Did he know?

Pressure from his hand increased in an
exquisite squeeze.

We stayed that way until he pulled the
gelding up near the stable. Andrew handed me down and followed
quickly, releasing the gelding’s reins to a groom. His hand on my
back as he ushered me into the stable disconcerted me.

“What of your farrier?” I asked, hoping the
man was on his way.

Silence. I glanced at Andrew’s face. The
lamplight revealed a faint flush creeping into his cheeks. “I
didn’t send for him. I believe I thought only of you.”

I managed to hold back a gasp of surprise.
While part of me rejoiced that Andrew finally saw my value, the
other half niggled with doubt. What if I couldn’t help the mare?
What if she died?

And what did Andrew really think of me, that
I was willing to enter a man’s domain?

Inside the stable, a large birthing box had
been prepared. Surprisingly, Anna paced outside its confines, her
face tight with concern. I peeked over the wooden railing to find
the mare lying on her side. She barely lifted her head when I
entered the stall. Not a good sign. She should be more agitated
than that.

Andrew followed me in and latched the door
behind him. “What do you need?”

“I don’t know yet.” I walked around the horse
slowly, not wanting to alarm her. Kneeling at her head, I stroked
her neck, noticing that it was wet and hot. “Probably a bucket of
hot water and some strong soap. And towels or blankets.”

Andrew wheeled and said a word to one of the
grooms. His face was stony when he turned back.

“How long has she been down?”

“About an hour,” Anna said. “She rolled
around on her back a bit at first, but she’s been still for a while
now.”

Worry clenched my stomach. Andrew and Anna
were depending on me to help this mare and her unborn foal, when I
hadn’t actually helped in a birthing myself. Mostly I watched Dr.
Richard do it.

I took a deep breath. God, I need some help
here.

The words from the moor echoed in my mind.
God was with me. Even now.

Within minutes, the groom returned with a
bucket of tepid water and a bar of hard soap. With a shrug, I
resigned myself to take what I could get.

I lathered soap on my hands and forearms then
moved around the horse to her flank, praying the whole time.
Moments into the examination, I found the problem. In a natural
birth, both of the foal’s front hooves should emerge first, then
its nose, and the rest of the body slips right out.

This foal had one hoof caught in the birth
canal, causing the whole operation to stop. An easy fix, and a few
moments later, the foal lay on the hay at my feet.

Exhilaration flowed through me for a moment
until it registered that the foal didn’t move.

Anna gasped from somewhere behind me. I knelt
next to the foal, looked up at Andrew. “Keep the mare down.” He
nodded and moved to her head.

I cleared the sticky mucus from the foal's
nose and mouth. Still no movement, no breathing. I'd seen Dr.
Richard rub newborn foals with hay, so I tried that too.

A minute ticked by, each second lessening the
chances of the foal's survival. I wracked my brain for a solution,
anything I hadn't tried yet. God, help!

As if a hand from above guided me, I leaned
down and blew into the foal's mouth. Once. Twice. Three times.

And the foal drew a shaky breath. Then
another.

Andrew whooped. Anna began weeping. I rocked
back on my heels and sat down in the hay, tears coming to my eyes.
Thank you.

Chapter 8

Getting ready for a ball was no easy process.
I hated having my hair done. Most of all, I didn't want to dance
with Andrew.

“Ruth, what’s a blue stocking?”

Hours into the grooming and preparation, I
was beginning to get fed up. At least I was finally dressed, though
I'd lost the battle about my corset. Drat the torturous
inventions.

Ruth was putting the final touches on my
hair, but she paused to consider my question. Her brow furrowed.
“Where did you hear that, miss?”

Her avoidance piqued my curiosity. “I don't
remember. Somewhere around, I guess.”

Minerva spoke up from her seat on the edge of
the bed. “Not ‘a blue stocking.’ One word. Bluestocking. It means a
woman that is... too involved in things only men should be involved
in.”

“Oh.” Like shoeing horses. Birthing
foals.

I closed my eyes. Sighed. Wished again for
something I could never have.

Ruth hummed as she tucked the last few late
rose blossoms into my hair.

Her mood only made me feel more sour.

Spending these few weeks observing the
Howarths had filled in some of the gaps of my understanding.
Although our uncle was wealthier than the Howarths, neither Minerva
or I would be considered an acceptable match because uncle's
fortune had been made in trade. In contrast, the Howarths owned
quite a bit of land and real estate and had passed down their
wealth through the generations.

Aah, aristocracy. Our family connections were
the reason why Andrew and I couldn't be together. Oh, and the minor
inconvenience of our family scandals.

Although Andrew wasn't totally avoiding me,
he'd kept his distance since the birth of the foal. He and his
father had been locked away in the library most days working on an
important business dealing. Or so Anna said. I kept to myself,
spending a lot of time in the stable, watching the colt and its
mother. I couldn't stop thinking about Andrew and the ride we'd
shared.

I really didn't want to dance with him
tonight. He probably knew I had feelings for him, and that's why he
avoided me.

Would he even uphold his part of the wager? I
had no idea and we'd spoken only sporadically in the last few days.
Never of the race or our almost-kiss.

The thought of being in close proximity to
him, with my messy emotions, made me want to avoid the whole thing
altogether.

If he didn't know already, I didn't want him
to see that I was in love with him. Drat my traitorous heart.

Ruth tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as
she looked over my hair. She teased the soft ringlets that she’d
curled around my face. She must have sensed my jitters because she
clasped my hand briefly. “You look lovely, miss.”

In the mirror, I met Minerva's eyes. Her
hands twisted in her lap and she'd gone whiter than I’d ever see
her. “Actually,” I said, trying to smile, “Minerva will be the
belle of the ball. Look how pretty she is with her pink
ribbon.”

It was true. Minerva’s dark blond hair
wrapped around the back of her head and the pink ribbon against the
white gown she wore complimented her figure and complexion. But her
blue eyes were large and scared.

She smiled, almost a grimace. “I would as
soon stay up here instead of going down. A woman of eight and
twenty will never be noticed among the other women. However, I
would not disappoint our hostess.”

I glanced to Ruth, unsure how to respond.
Warmth and sorrow reflected in her eyes. I cleared my throat.
“Surely Tristan will ask you to dance.”

Ruth dropped her comb on the floor. I bent
and picked it up.

Minerva shot a startled gaze at me, then
abruptly looked away. “I dare say he will not. Come, let us go down
before we are missed.”

It wasn't exactly an apology, but at least
she had spoken to me.

I could hear the sound of many voices even
before we arrived at the Howarth’s beautiful staircase that led
down into the foyer. Going up from the first level it split so that
it led off to both wings of the huge house. As Minerva and I
descended the top half-flight of stairs, Andrew appeared at the
head of the stairs coming down from the other hallway. He looked
incredible in his dark jacket and trousers. The crisp white cravat
he wore accentuated the strong lines of his jaw. Drat the man’s
valet for making him look so handsome.