Unbefitting a Lady Read Free Page B

impression he
needed her.
    His sense of authority was unnerving, actually. It was almost
lordly in its demeanour, not a quality one found in the average groom or stable
master. And then there was the issue of his boots. She noticed they were awfully
fine. Aunt Wilhelmina was fond of saying a girl could always tell a gentleman by
his shoes. Based on those polished, high boots he wore with only a touch of the
day’s dust about them, one might almost mistake him for a gentleman—except that
he wasn’t.
    His dark hair was too long to be fashionably tolerated and his
wardrobe lacked certain necessities. A gentleman wore a waistcoat and a coat in
the presence of a lady. A gentleman didn’t walk around with his shirtsleeves
rolled up and a gentleman most certainly didn’t engage in fisticuffs at a horse
fair. No, Bram Basingstoke was clearly not a gentleman no matter how fine his
boots or lordly his demeanour. Some men were just born to command. He was one of
them, something she’d do well to remember when dealing with him.
    Phaedra pointed out the stall she’d decided on for Warbourne.
She slipped a slice of apple to the colt for good behaviour while fresh straw
was laid down. Satisfied the colt was well settled, she turned to Bram.
‘Warbourne has had his tour, now it’s time for yours. I’m sure you’re anxious to
get your bearings.’
    The hint of a smile played about his lips. ‘I have my bearings
quite well, but I’ll accept your offer of a tour.’ Humour danced in his
eyes.
    Phaedra’s mouth went dry. Giles’s new groom was a flirt. Her
stomach fluttered a bit as it had at the fair. He was the handsome man again,
the daring hero. But that would not do for a Montague servant. In the stables or
in the house, the Montague staff were impeccably trained and impeccably
mannered, except maybe the errand boy, Charlie. The staff certainly did not flirt with the ducal family. Except for Monsieur
André, the head chef. He’d wooed and won Aunt Claire. All right, there were
apparently some exceptions. But that did not excuse him .
    * * *
    Bram allowed Phaedra to sweep ahead of him. ‘The stable
block is divided up into sections,’ she explained, pride evident as she
continued. ‘This section is dedicated to the saddle horses. We keep twenty
horses for riding purposes. This is Giles’s favourite hunter, Genghis, rescued
him off the battlefield.’ She kept up the introductions, stroking the muzzle of
each horse they passed until she’d shown him all of the animals and given him an
overwhelming history of each.
    It was clear she wanted him overwhelmed. She wanted him to be
in awe of his surroundings and he was. Castonbury had one of the finest stables
in the north. Bram had seen several stables owned by men who considered
themselves fine breeders of the thoroughbred, and Castonbury was impressive.
He’d noted the elevated iron hay racks in each of the stalls, eliminating the
need to keep a large feed trough running the length of the aisles and taking up
space. He’d noted, too, that Castonbury had converted the traditional
three-sided stall to the modern-styled loose box stall. The horses looked
healthy and strong, no doubt a result of their excellent housing.
    Phaedra finished with the riding wing and moved to the centre
section. ‘This is the carriage house. We have six carriage bays. As you can see,
most of the bays are currently occupied. There’s the ducal travelling coach,
there’s the landau for spring outings, the gig for trips to the village and so
on. It will be important to familiarise yourself with them. On occasion they
will need some light maintenance.’ She seemed willing to move through this
section far more quickly than she had the prior. He saw why and it more than
provoked his curiosity.
    Bram put a light hand on her arm. ‘What’s that?’ He pointed
towards what appeared to be a large full-sided wagon complete with windows and a
roof in the last bay.
    ‘It’s a horse trailer,’ Phaedra