“If you want to be of service, then sample these biscuits.” She pushed a plate toward him.
“If I must.” He grinned and took one.
“You mustn’t come here again. You are a guest,” she chastised him.
“My great-aunts are guests, I simply accompanied them, and I’m far more comfortable here.” A bit of melancholy swept over him. “It reminds me of being a child in Kentucky. We didn’t have a grand home, nor did we have servants. Only men hired to help in the fields and on the farm.”
She tsked. “The son of a duke living as such. It just isn’t right.”
“It was his choice,” Caleb assured her, though he wondered how different his life might have been had his father and mother remained in England and not settled in America.
“Thank you for taking care of the fire, Mr. Copeland,” the housemaid said as she entered, carrying yet another bucket of coal.
“It’s my pleasure,” he assured her. And it was. It gave him something to do besides watching gentlemen try to impress Lady Lucinda. He now understood why she found the coming days to be tedious.
Caleb finished his biscuit and stepped outside where he took a deep breath of crisp winter air. What he needed was to ride, fast and hard, and perhaps that would reduce some of the restlessness that plagued him of late. It came from not having anything to do. One could only take tea and read the newssheets for so long before one needed to dosomething! Caleb’s entire life had been filled with work, from the farm in Kentucky to the plantation in New Orleans. He didn’t know how to be a man of leisure and hadn’t learned the art during the year and a half that he’d been in England.
Maybe the answer to his anxiousness was to return home and carve out a place to live as he pleased. He’d only remained in England to support his brother, but Darius was settled into learning what he needed to one day be a duke, and his sisters who remained were looking forward to attending yet another Season in London. There really was nothing to keep him here.
As he stepped into the stables he was greeted by the whinnies of several horses, but not a person in sight.
“Hello?” he called.
“I’ll be right with you,” a young voice called from deep within. A moment later, two lads ran out, filthy from head to toe. “Do you need your horse, Mr. Copeland?”
“Is no one else here to help you?” Caleb enquired.
“No, sir. They are quarantined,” the other boy answered.
“How many horses are you responsible for?”
The lads looked at each other, before the youngest answered. “His Grace has ten hunters, eight carriage horses, six riding horses and five work horses.”
“No stablemaster? No grooms? No other stablehands?”
“No, Mr. Copeland. Just us.”
They couldn’t be older than twelve and it was impossible to take care of all these horses on their own.
“What of the horses belonging to the guests?”
“The drivers and grooms are seeing to their own horses.”
Thank goodness for that.
“Did you want me to saddle your horse?” the older one asked.
It had been his intention to ride, but there was a greater need to be met. “That is not necessary.” Besides, if he were going to ride, he could saddle his own horse. “Let me help you.”
The lad’s eyes grew wide. “No. You couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right, Mr. Copeland. You’re a guest.”
A bloody guest who shouldn’t be a guest and who needed something to occupy his time. The stables offered the perfect solution. “As a guest this is what I wish to do. You wouldn’t deny me that pleasure, would you?”
The lad frowned. “No…I suppose…but it isn’t right.”
“I’ll decide what is right and what isn’t,” he insisted. “Now, shall we see that the horses have plenty of feed and that the stalls are cleaned?”
“Yes, Mr. Copeland, and thank you Mr. Copeland,” the younger one said.
