My Fair Groom (The Sons of the Aristocracy) Read online

  He heard more than felt Lady Julia’s suddenly inhalation of breath. “I don’t know what I could have been thinking,” she got out sotto voce.

  Alistair thought she referred to what had happened with the Earl of Trenton, but he could tell she was at least sitting up on her own. He extracted his arm from around her waist and dismounted, careful to keep a tight rein on Blossom lest the gelding decide to perform the same stunt as Buttercup.

  “Are you well, milady?” Alistair asked in a quiet voice, aware that several riders had stopped their mounts and were watching from Alistair’s left.

  Julia took a deep breath and made sure to keep her face impassive. “I am fine, Mr. Comber. But I find myself on the wrong horse …”

  Before she knew quite what was happening, Alistair had his hands on either side of her waist, plucking her off of Blossom and moving her onto Buttercup’s saddle.

  The tiger, still holding the mare’s reins, waited until Lady Julia had positioned her right knee around the pommel before handing her the reins. Julia didn’t have time to protest. Nor did she find the sudden change in mounts, courtesy her groom, the least bit discomfiting. It was the sounds of amazed riders making their way to her consciousness that had her glancing toward the nearby riders.

  “Bravo,” Lord Devonville called out from atop his Cleveland Bay, aiming a salute in Alistair’s direction.

  “Brava, you mean,” Lady Devonville countered, giving a Lady Julia a brilliant smile and a wave. “Well done!”

  A few riders in carriages applauded, as if what had just happened had been a rehearsed show.

  Blushing, Lady Julia nodded to her admirers before turning her attention on her groom. Her expression darkened noticeably.

  “Home?” Alistair guessed, keeping his voice low.

  Julia sighed. At least the man was perceptive. But how could he have thought she was arranging a liaison with Gabriel Wellingham? Did the groom honestly believe she would have anything to do with the laughing stock of the ton? Elizabeth Carlington, the current Lady Bostwick, had been the target of Lord Trenton’s attentions only a year ago, and even though she hadn’t spoken ill of the man to anyone but her very best friends in the few months since, it had become common knowledge among the ton that Gabriel Wellingham was a horrible kisser and a pretender in Parliament. She rather imagined his fellow lords had seen to it he was considered bad ton when it came to parliamentary matters, but the new crop of debutantes probably weren’t aware of his lack of skills in the matter of kissing. Julia could almost feel sorry for the man. She had overhead a comment about his mistresses (which implied he had more than one), a comment that implied they had quit him only the year before, apparently because he was a horrible kisser.

  Julia rather doubted kissing had anything to do with it.

  She nodded in her groom’s direction, pulling Buttercup around so she was aimed at one of the crushed granite paths that led behind a hedgerow. Given the traffic, she knew they wouldn’t be able to simply turn around and go back the way they had come into the park; there were dozens of riders and more carriages still making their way into the park at this time of the afternoon.

  Alistair followed Julia, wondering at the direction she was taking. But a quick glance back at the traffic made him realize they could not get out of the park through the main gate. And noting the manner in which Lady Julia was leaving the pavement, Alistair began to wonder if he had a future as a groom at Harrington House.

  Chapter 6

  A Gentlemanly Proposal

  Julia glanced around, concerned someone might have noticed her leaving the pavement, her horse in tow and a groom who was looking every bit as embarrassed as he should. What was the man thinking? How could he have thought she was in any kind of danger? Had he never been on a ride in Rotten Row before? She turned her head to regard the groom, noting how he kept a few paces behind her, his own horse following on a tight rein.

  The livery did look rather ridiculous on a man of his stature and build. Did her mother ever have a footman in residence who looked as this groom did, though? Julia rather doubted it, for Lady Mayfield would have certainly sent word to the house tailor that a new uniform would be necessary for just such a man.

  And new colors.

  When the two were well beyond the road and hidden from those parading in the park, Julia slowed her pace. She still hadn’t broached the subject of turning the groom into a gentleman for her parent’s ball in three weeks. Was now really the appropriate time, though, given what had just happened? But if not now, when could she ask him? It wasn’t as if she could just show up in the stables and request an audience with Mr. Comber. Now, it seemed, was probably her best chance.

  “Mr. Comber, I wondered if I might …”

  “I apologize, my lady. I …” Alistair paused, suddenly aware he had just interrupted Lady Julia. “Oh, Christ. I just interrupted you,” he swore softly. At her suddenly widened eyes, Alistair rolled his own. “I find I must apologize again, my lady. I cannot believe I swore in a lady’s presence.”

  “Really, Mr. Comber …”

  “I wanted to apologize for what happened back there.” Alistair froze, aware he had once again interrupted the chit as she attempted to say something to him. “And for having interrupted you yet again,” he added sheepishly.

  Lady Julia took a deep breath. “You are …”

  “I must assure her ladyship that I am well-versed in all manners of … manners, and …” Alistair stopped talking when he realized Julia’s forefinger was about to make contact with his lips.

  “Not. Another. Word,” Julia said with gritted teeth. She started to pull her finger away, but when Alistair seemed to take a breath with the intent to speak again, she quickly moved it back, never actually touching him but making her point quite clear.

  Not able to say anything – or, at least, not willing to endure the wrath of Lady Julia, Alistair merely nodded his head.

  When she was sure he wasn’t going to speak, Julia dropped her hand to join the other, still holding the reins of Buttercup. “Have you ever ridden in the park before, Mr. Comber?” she asked, her words clipped to indicate she was rather impatient with him.

  Alistair was about to respond when he remembered her order. He couldn’t just nod, though. “I have, my lady,” he finally responded.

  “This park?” she asked as she waved toward the row of hedges behind where they stood.

  “Yes. My lady,” he added quickly.

  Julia’s eyebrows arched up. “During the fashionable hour?” she questioned in disbelief.

  “Yes, my lady. Many times, in fact. I …” He stopped when her finger was suddenly on its way up.

  “Indeed?” she responded, obviously not believing his claim. “And yet, from the way you behaved back there, I would have thought you new to the whole experience,” she chided. Her free hand went to rest on her hip, a move Alistair had seen his mother do a dozen times when she was about to lecture his father. “I am quite capable of handling my horse. And those of the riders around me, should the need arise,” she added, her voice rising to indicate her impatience with him. “There is no need for you to be … to be escorting me as if I’m a chit straight out of the school room,” she continued, her lecture taking on the same tone as any of those his mother might have delivered. But Lady Julia seemed to grow more attractive as she continued, her words calling attention to the shape of her mouth, her cheeks pinking up with her exertion, her eyes brightening as if tears might be collecting.

  “I realize that now, my lady,” Alistair stated with a nod, suddenly aware of how fetching the chit looked with her face lifted up to take in his, and how the fist at her waist accentuated just how slender she was. “As I was trying to say, I apologize for what happened, and I assure you, it will never happen again,” he said with a nod.

  Julia blinked. Again? Did the groom actually believe he would be escorting her in the park again? “Of course, it won’t, Mr. Comber. I can assure you, I won’t allow you to be my esc
ort in the park ever again.”

  Alistair felt a sudden panic grip his stomach. If Lady Julia mentioned what happened to her father, or worse, the head groom, Mr. Grimes would probably fire him. He needed this position! In just a few days, he would be making his way to the Seven Dials where Michael Regan’s widow lived with her children. He intended to give her enough money to pay the rent for a year and to buy food for a month. Without the pay he was counting on from his work in the stables, he would have nothing to live on unless he borrowed against his investment from the sale of his commission. “Please, my lady,” Alistair whispered, his desperation clear in his voice. “I need this position. I’ll do anything …”

  “Anything?” Julia interrupted, her head tilting to one side. If I ask him now, he can’t say ’no’, she thought quickly.

  “Anything,” Alistair agreed with a nod. Christ, what have I agreed to? he wondered, his panic replaced with another when he realized she had already conjured the ‘anything’.

  Julia allowed a small smile. “Including becoming a gentleman?” she wondered, an eyebrow arching up with the question.

  Alistair blinked. Becoming a gentleman? He blinked again. But he was already … “A gentleman?” he repeated, thinking perhaps he misunderstood her demand.

  “Yes. I wish to make you into a gentleman. And you must pass as one when you attend my parent’s ball at the end of this month,” she stated, her chin lifting with the last few words.

  Alistair blinked again. I have to become a gentleman? By the end of the month? “My lady, in what way must I … become a gentleman?” he queried, curious as to her motive. What would she have him do that he hadn’t already done in his life as the son of an earl?

  The question seemed to catch Julia off-guard. “Well, you’ll have to learn how to bow, of course,” she began uncertainly.

  Alistair glanced around, and once he was sure no one was about, he executed the perfect bow.

  Julia continued as if she hadn’t just witnessed his perfect bow. “And how to dance,” she continued. “I’ll employ a dance master for you, of course,” she added, as if she expected him to deny his ability to learn to dance.

  But Alistair was about to claim he already knew how to dance when he realized that, as a groom, he would only be expected to know the country dances done longways. “Of course,” he agreed with a nod.

  “And we’ll have to work on your diction. You’ll need to be able to speak like a gentleman, and not sound like you’re from one of the northern counties,” Julia continued as if he hadn’t said a word. Or several of them. In a manner that was clearly not of one hailing from the northern counties.

  Alistair blinked. Where did she think he was from? Do I sound like I’m from Yorkshire? Or Northumberland? Or, worse, Scotland? He sometimes couldn’t understand a single word a Scotsman said, especially after a pint or two at the pub. “Of course not, my lady,” he agreed automatically.

  Suddenly cocking her head the other direction, Julia regarded him for a moment. “Just what county are you from?” she wondered suddenly.

  Swallowing, Alistair wondered how to respond. He decided truth was the best. It wasn’t as if he was going to start speaking like he was from Scotland when the chit had already heard him say more than a dozen words in his own Queen’s English. And hers. “Sussex, my lady,” he answered with a nod.

  Julia seemed to deflate and show relief all at the same time. “Oh,” she acknowledged, her head bobbing up and down. “Well, that should make it a bit easier then,” she said under her breath. When she didn’t offer another condition, Alistair dared to ask if that was all.

  “Is that all, my lady?” he ventured carefully. What else could she have him do? There wasn’t time to attend Cambridge or Oxfordshire for a quick degree in philosophy or history. Besides, he already had one of those.

  “Well, if there was time, I would send you to Cambridge,” she started to say before her eyes suddenly widened. “Can you read?” she asked suddenly.

  Alistair had to suppress a grin. Could the chit read his mind? “I can, my lady,” he stated emphatically. “Enough,” he added, when he realized a typical groom would only be able to read what he needed for his job.

  Julia seemed relieved by the news. “Well, then, there’s only one other obvious trait of a gentleman, and that would be …”

  Alistair had to suppress a grin. Was she about to suggest he would need to learn how to kiss? For if that were the case, he really didn’t require any lessons. He would be more than glad to take Lady Julia as a pupil, in fact, for he rather doubted she had ever had the pleasure of a truly good kiss. A kiss that might include open mouths and a bit of touching tongues and … he straightened as he realized Lady Julia was staring at him. Staring at him with a rather odd expression on her face. “And, what might that be, my lady?” he asked, thinking she didn’t look as if she was about to provide the information without a bit of encouragement.

  Julia stared at the groom as if she were seeing him for the first time. Good Lord! Could the man truly be the perfect candidate to become a gentleman? She recalled how she and Samantha had watched him from her bedchamber window, ogling him as if they were admiring an animal at the menagerie at the Tower of London. His shoulders were truly broad, his arms barely contained in the ridiculous livery, his legs long and strong … and that derriere, she suddenly remembered. She had admired that behind from behind for most of her ride today. And she’d never noticed a man’s bottom before. Never!

  What had he just asked? What were they even talking about?

  Gentlemen!

  Her mind suddenly back on track, Julia nodded, remembering his query. “Clothes, Mr. Comber. Clothes make the gentleman,” she stated emphatically.

  Alistair felt a rock fall into his stomach. Clothes? Christ! How could he afford the wardrobe required of a gentleman? He owned an entire wardrobe suitable for an aristocrat, including shoes and boots, but he’d barely had time to pack before he took his leave of his father’s house. He certainly hadn’t taken any formal clothes, or even a decent topcoat. And given that fashion had changed just a bit while he was on the Continent, he decided sending a footman to collect even a portion of his wardrobe was probably a waste of time. “Of course, my lady,” he murmured, disappointment apparent in the tone of his voice.

  “Which I shall arrange with the help of my brother’s valet,” Julia said brightly. “It’s possible you’ll be able to wear some of Charlie’s – he’s rarely home these days – and if not, I’ll just hire a tailor to see to your needs for the ball,” she assured him, her head bobbing up and down.

  Alistair straightened, his frame towering over hers as they stood near the hedgerow. “These lessons … they’ll have to be at a time when Mr. Grimes doesn’t need me in the stables,” Alistair said carefully. How would he explain his need to take time away? And if Lady Julia thought she would be hiring a tailor on his behalf – and paying for any clothes that might have to be made for him – she was sorely mistaken.

  He wasn’t about to allow a woman to purchase clothing on his behalf. He wasn’t allowed to do it for her, after all, so why would he allow her to do it for him? Although, Alistair thought Julia would look especially fetching in a teal blue satin gown, its fabric accentuating her delicate curves and making her appear just a bit taller. With her blonde hair done up in a tumble of curls, she would be the perfect companion at a ton ball. Or anywhere, for that matter. Why, she would look perfect in a boat on the Thames, or on a high-perch phaeton, or …

  What the hell?

  Alistair shook himself, blinking as he did so to clear the images of Lady Julia he had conjured of her just then. He was the hired help! He couldn’t be imagining Lady Julia in such clothes. But if he didn’t, he realized, he’d be imagining her wearing no clothes.

  He gulped. The thought of Lady Julia wearing nothing was …

  “Are you well, Mr. Comber?” he heard suddenly. Gads! How many times had she asked him that question?

  “I am, my lad
y,” he responded quickly, giving a nod as he did so.

  “I know it’s a good deal to consider,” Julia continued, as if he hadn’t spoken a word, “But I do believe with just a bit of effort on your part, you could make the perfect gentleman.”

  Alistair straightened, her words somehow offending him and heartening him all at the same time. Couldn’t she tell just from looking at him that he was a gentleman? Wasn’t it apparent that he stood just a bit straighter than his peers in Harrington House? That he spoke a bit better? That he was to the manor born?

  And then he remembered the very dictate he’d told himself earlier.

  The ton only saw what they expected to see.

  He was expected to look like a groom, so that’s what Julia saw. That’s all she saw. Other than the possibility that he could be made into a gentleman. Well, there was that, at least.

  Suppressing the urge to sigh, Alistair regarded Lady Julia with an appropriate expression of awe. “I won’t disappoint you, my lady,” he said with conviction “I will do whatever it takes to fulfill your desire,” he assured her with a nod.

  A smile appeared on Julia’s face, one that caused a small dimple to appear in one cheek and her eyes to light up as if she was facing the sun. Which she was, but a slight turn to the left had her small hat providing shade again. She gave the groom a nod.

  Fulfill your desire?

  Had the groom really just said that? Had he really just promised to fulfill her desire? Could the man read her mind? Hear her thoughts? Hadn’t she just been thinking how exciting it would be to join the man on the terraced flagstones outside Harrington House for a tryst in the garden during her parents’ ball? Perhaps Mr. Comber would be willing to provide the tutelage necessary so she could learn how to kiss.

  She often wondered how a proper young lady was supposed to just know how to kiss when her first opportunity to do so presented itself. How could she know what to do? How could she know how to respond? How to position herself? How to angle her head? How to hold her lips? Where to put her hands? With everything else a young lady of the ton was taught how to do – needlework, elocution, dance, speak French, and draw and paint – why weren’t lessons in kissing included?