In The Devil's Stables (Spirited #1)

Chapter 28

Miss Sophrina Beaumonte

Clevendon Place

June 11, 1828

            My darling Sophie,

You wouldn't believe where I find myself now. What you, in your current ladylike garb surrounded by London's most pompous and elite, have missed in the life of England's most unlikely of stable hands.

Charlie hesitated, her hand hovering over the piece of parchment as she debated what to write to her dearest friend. Or, more accurately, how much to confide.

Charlie's head peered out from the loft above the stables, her contraband stashed before her for all to see - a roll of parchment, a pot of ink, a quill.

The earl's writing implements that only moments ago had resided within his study and were now firmly within Charlie's grasp.

Charlie still couldn't quite believe she had gotten away with it. But a desperate woman was known to take drastic action. Especially when said desperate woman was in need of a confidante.

A friend.

Lud, but that had been utterly terrifying.

Breaking into the earl's residence was not for the faint of heart. Neither was coming upon Greyson's friend, Lord Thorne, on the way out.

She shook her head, her shortened hair long enough that a strand wisped into her mouth. She dragged the offending piece of hair away, her head thunking back against the wooden slat.

Viscount Thorne was here.

The gentleman who Charlie had met and who she feared was the most capable of seeing through her disguise. It had taken insurmountable effort on Charlie's part to play the dutiful stable hand, all the while keeping the earl's stolen items within the folds of her shirt.

She would have succeeded too if it wasn't for the bloody stable master.

Williams had found her not five minutes after she had absconded from the earl's study, her breath rushed from the quick motions of sidestepping various bustling servants. Not to mention navigating the earl's maze of hallways and corridors. It had been a sprig of good luck that Charlie had found the earl's study at all.

The earl's unoccupied study.

Did the man not take security seriously? If even the stable hand could sneak from the kitchens (and perhaps steal a tart or two. Or three, Charlie thought, wryly) and find Greyson's study, nicking his belongings along the way, then surely others could do the same.

Although perhaps others knew enough not to challenge the earl.

Charlie shrugged, knowing it didn't matter one way or the other.

The true test had been hiding her damned implements while Williams stood hovering about her, questioning her competence in front of Lord Thorne. As if she were some green lad - or lady, in this case - who had never ridden a horse, let alone taken care of one. Charlie had made a point of staring at Sir Rupert who was grazing in a open paddock and then glancing back to Williams, incredulous. She didn't care that her role could be compromised. Her innate sense of pride demanded showcasing her ability, her horsemanship.

Defending it.

Charlie wasn't like other women.

Had never been.

So why the devil in her own male disguise did Williams treat her with so much blasted care? It was enough that Charlie almost wanted to unveil herself.