“Tell me. How were the men?” Harriet kept her voice low, of course, but the questions were burning in her brain like some kind of forest fire.
Letitia shook her head. “You know, that was a great deal more difficult than I had anticipated.”
“Oh, really? In what way?”
“They were…” Letitia paused. “They didn’t seem to understand my questions.”
“What sort of things were you asking them?”
“I started with the usual inquiries. Former positions, age, experience, what one would expect when applying for work in the stables of a Baron.”
“That seems appropriate.”
Letitia nodded. “Yes, and the answers were much as I’d expected. Then I asked some more personal questions. Were they married, for instance.”
“Were they?”
“One was. The first one. So I kept his questions casual and didn’t even broach the topic I was interested in with him.”
Harriet found herself engaged in a staring contest with a colourful mallard. It vaguely registered, but her focus was on Letitia’s voice. “And then?”
“The second applicant—and I can’t even remember these names. Isn’t that dreadful?” Letitia shrugged. “Anyway, he was not married. So my plan was to enquire about his physical abilities, since stable work is challenging to those without the stamina.”
“Ah,” choked Harriet.
The duck quacked but still held her gaze in thrall.
“I suggested he remove his shirt, so that I could see for myself the evidence of his ability to lift large and heavy things.”
“Oh my God.”
“Quack.”
“Harry, there’s a duck staring at you.”
“I know. Ignore him. Go on.”
Letitia obeyed. “So he took off his shirt.”
“And?”
“He had quite a nice chest.” She sounded thoughtful. “D’you know I haven’t really had chance to observe a man’s chest like that. And this one certainly was pleasant to look at. A smattering of dark hair, some nice muscles here and there…and two obviously well-developed arms. For a stable hand, he would serve the purpose with excellence, I should imagine.”
Harriet gulped. “So then…”
“Quack, quack.”
“Do shut up.”
“What?” Letitia blinked.
“Not you, the duck.”
“Oh. Sorry. Well, where was I?”
“Describing the nice chest…” prompted Harriet.
“It was, indeed,” concurred Letitia. “But…oddly, I did not feel the slightest urge to encourage him to bring his chest closer to me. Nor was I eager to touch him, or have his hands on me. It seems I may have made a few incorrect suppositions, but then again, that’s what my experimentation today has been about.”
