“Thank you.”
Matthew turned back to the window, hearing the butler close the door behind him, securing Matthew and his isolation once more. A small smile tugged at the corner of Matthew’s mouth, even though he was not at all sure what had made him do such a thing. Was it the fact that he would be facing another night at the dining table, sitting alone and hearing nothing but the clinking of his cutlery as he ate? It would be nice to have company, would it not? Of course, at times, he went into London if he was feeling particularly sociable, but most evenings he spent here alone. That was to change this evening. He would have to ensure that Lady Wells had something appropriate to wear and would thereafter have to ensure that the staff did not suspect her in any way, but that could be easily done. There was the old gatehouse that, whilst well maintained, had no one residing within it. If he could get the gown and the like to be placed there, then Lady Wells could easily remove to the gatehouse to change. Although she would have to do so without a maid, unless he could secure one who would remain utterly silent about what she had witnessed. He bit his lip, feeling as though he were about to climb an overly large mountain and was struggling to work out just where to put his feet.
No, he would have to employ the services of a maid. One who could be trusted not to say a word to another living soul. She would bring the clothes to the gatehouse and wait there for Lady Wells to arrive. Thereafter, she could alert him to the fact that Lady Wells was prepared and somehow, he would have her brought to the house as though she had come from afar.
The horses.
That was it. He would take Beauchamp and one of his mares and lead them out of the gate, as though he were going out to take the lady riding. Lady Wells would have to ride sidesaddle, of course, but it would only be for a short time. Thereafter, the rest would easily fall into place and he would enjoy the evening with Lady Wells as she truly was – in form and in character. The thought brought a broad smile to his face, making him begin to look forward to the rest of the day – and before he knew it, the ache in his head had gone completely.
“Ah, Leighton.”
He smiled as Lady Wells jerked up from where she had been bending over Beauchamp’s hooves.
“You appear to be rather busy this afternoon.”
Lady Wells nodded uncertainly, darting a look over Matthew’s shoulder.
“Mr. Griggs is not present,” Matthew murmured quietly. “You can speak freely, Lady Wells.”
She nodded, although her uncertain look did not immediately fade. “Yes, Your Grace?” she asked, a brush still in her hand. “Is there something that you require of me?”
He smiled. “There is, in fact,” he said, with a small bow. “Your presence this evening.”
A tiny line formed between Lady Wells brows. “This evening?” she repeated, glancing up at Beauchamp. “We are to go riding again, as far as I understand?”
“Yes, we shall indeed,” he agreed with a quick smile. “But before that, I should like you to join me for dinner. It shall not be too late, given that we will need to take Beauchamp out thereafter, but I thought that–”
“Dinner?” Lady Wells had interrupted him, but Matthew was suspicious she did not realize she had done so. “You wish me to join you for dinner when I am dressed in such a fashion?” Her brow furrowed all the more, betraying her confusion. “A stable hand does not often join a duke for dinner, Your Grace. It would confuse everyone and bring suspicion to bear.”
He nodded, a grin playing about his mouth. “I quite agree,” he told her, seeing how she blinked, betraying her lack of understanding. “Therefore, I wish you to join me for dinner as Lady Wells, not as Mr. Leighton.”
Some moments passed, and Lady Wells brows did not lift and her eyes now held a little suspicion. Did she think that he intended to take the position of jockey from her?
“You must understand, Lady Wells, it is not because I wish to remove you as jockey nor because I want my staff to know the truth of your identity,” he said, reassuring her. “I merely wish for you to join me for dinner so that we might know each other a little better. After all, it is not very often that I have a young lady dressed as a young man working in my stables!”
Lady Wells blinked slowly. “How am I to appear as Lady Wells when I reside in the house?” she asked with uncertainty. “What is it you wish me to do?”
Glad that she had not outright rejected his idea, Matthew briefly told her what his plan was and was gratified as the confusion began to lift from her face and she nodded slowly. There was no smile, however, for she still appeared a little concerned that she would be identified by some of the staff.
“I have already chosen and spoken at length to Jenny, one of the maids,” he finished. “Jenny is trustworthy and will not say a word.” He did not tell Lady Wells, of course, that such a thing had been all the more secured by the promise that he would remove Jenny from her position should she say anything to another living soul. “She has already secured a gown for you and will be able to add quick alterations to it to ensure that it fits you well.”
“I see.” Lady Wells did not smile but rather just held his gaze and looked at him steadily, a small line forming between her brows. It was clear to Matthew that there were a few questions rattling around in her head, and he waited for her to give air to them, but as silence grew between them, he began to rea
lize that she had no intention of doing so.
“You-you do not wish to join me for dinner, mayhap?” he asked, suddenly feeling incredibly foolish and realizing that he had organized all of this without so much as a moment of consideration for Lady Wells herself. There was always the chance that she would not want to sit down to dinner with him but, of course, he had not considered that. He had simply presumed that this was something she would want.
Lady Wells sighed and looked away, a shade of pink coming to settle in her cheeks. “You say that you wish to know me a little better, Your Grace,” she said slowly, repeating his own words back to him. “Why then must we go to such lengths for me to join you for dinner, when we might talk as we did the first night I took Beauchamp out?”
Now it was Matthew’s turn to frown. “You are quite correct that we could talk in such a fashion, but I merely thought that it would be of benefit to both of us to sit and dine together. It would give us a little more time to speak without being distracted by Beauchamp and the responsibilities that we both have as regards the Gold Cup.” He watched her closely, seeing how she was studying him in return, as if she were not quite certain that he spoke the truth. “Besides which, I am quite certain that, should I be in your position, I would greatly miss sitting down with my family and enjoying a sumptuous meal.” Putting a wry smile on his face, he tried to push away the tension that suddenly rose within him, wondering if she was about to refuse him entirely.
“I suppose that has been a little difficult to become used to,” Lady Wells admitted after a moment. “I have not sat around a table since I arrived here.” Her eyes clouded momentarily, making Matthew wonder if she was thinking of her mother and her home. But then, she gave herself a small shake and looked up at him again. “I just do not want the suggestion to be made that I am somehow pining for such a life, Your Grace. I have no great desire to return to it. I am not at all missing all the things that were demanded of me. I do not miss the many beautiful gowns that my mother insisted on giving me. I do not miss sitting by the dressing table as the maid tied up my hair in the most intricate of fashions. Nor do I miss the need to stand on ceremony and to behave in a proper manner without any real consideration for the truth of my character.” She arched one eyebrow slowly, her expression quizzical. “Whilst I will not pretend that I am not looking forward to eating well, Your Grace, I would not have you think that there is anything else about my life that I pine for.”
She was trying to make him see that she was not the sort of young lady who wanted to be paraded about, who thought of nothing more than fine gowns and soft slippers in order that her appearance was all it could be. Matthew was quite aware that she would look entirely different this evening, finding that his heart quickened just a touch at the mere thought of it.
“I quite understand,” he told her, thinking to himself that no matter what Lady Wells wore, she would look a good deal better than she did at present, given that her shirt was untucked, her cap a little askew, and a smear of dirt was running over her cheek. “But you will come and dine with me, will you not?”
Another short pause but then, thankfully, Lady Wells smiled.