In The Devil's Stables (Spirited #1)

Chapter 25

"Shite! Shite! Shite!" Williams bustled into the kitchens, out of breath, his chest heaving as he sank onto his haunches. "Just what we need, I tell ye! Shite!"

The earl's cook, Miss Martha, released her hold on the ladle and it clattered to the ground.

"Bluidy 'ell, Williams, wot are ye blatherin' on aboot? Don't ye know ye shouldn't be stressin' yerself so? What would the Doc Marin say?"

Worry etched over Martha's brow she stepped forward - as if wanting to comfort Williams - before her eyes took in the avid audience she had in Charlie and Jimmy. She regained her strict stance and fierce scowl, glowering at the stable master.

"Think of the earl, why don't ye? Ye think ye can affor' to replace a dead man when 's 'as other things to be doin'?"

"Oh please, Miss Martha," Williams burst out, coming to a stand as his chest strained, "yer concern for my wellbeing makes my heart all aflutter," he scowled and Charlie coughed out a laugh. "Why, it puts all other compliments to shame, it do!"

Jimmy elbowed her and they shared a smile, Jimmy's freckle-filled face seemed to dance and liven at their antics.

"Ack!" Miss Martha said, shaking her head and tumbling her sweat-dampened hair from her loose upswept curls. She clenched the rag in her fists that had held the hot ladle. "The last thing a mon needs is more'n 'is fair share of compliments, 'e do. Yer 'ead is nigh on too sizes too big fer yer body as it is."

Jimmy giggled, and Charlie watched his brown eyes spark with hazel flecks. Had she ever been so young as this? Had she ever been so teased as Martha and Williams gently bickering?

Those two kind of reminded her of her parents. Though...mayhap less refined, she thought, as Williams cast a dirtied sleeve over his forehead, leaving a streak of dried mud marring his skin.

Her fingers stroked her chess piece absently, the curved head of the Queen bringing her comfort.

"I've no time to squabble with ye all," Williams said, approaching Charlie and grasping her wrist. She was pulled towards the kitchen door leading back outside. "The dowager countess be comin' up the drive with the Lady Georgianna."

Charlie's steps halted abruptly, and Williams glared at her, his hand inexplicably tight about her wrist.

He raised a brow. "What now, lad? There is no time to waste!"

It must have been true - haste needed - for Jimmy shoved the last bite of tart into his mouth, sucking a thumb into his mouth and licking up the strawberry jam as he ran from the kitchens.

"Nothing, sir," Charlie said slowly. "It's just...the earl's mother is here?"

"Are ye 'ard of 'earing, now?" Williams asked, his gaze meeting Martha's over Charlie's head. "I don't know of any other dowager countesses that would seek to visit our earl."

Charlie's curiosity spiked. "He doesn't have a mistress, then?"

Williams choked, his face flushing. "Even if he did, it t'would be no business of yers." Charlie's feet scampered as Williams pulled her into motion. The cool evening air was ruined by the smoke that clogged her throat tight. "But nay, lad," Williams said, glancing at Charlie from the corner of his eyes, "the earl ain't one for such things. He has always been too much interested in his work."

The words brought a small pang to Charlie's chest. The earl was a recluse. For as long as she had heard of him, it had been mere whispers. His prowess with horses. His ability to make money - a scandal indeed to a society that valued fripperies and leisure and frowned upon a good day's work.