The Valet and the Stable Groom: M/M Regency Romance (15 page)

Struggling with words under the continued triple scrutiny, Clement pointed north, past the gardens.

Jane gazed after his pointing finger, paused to re-scrutinise Clement, and then strode off in the direction he indicated. The rest of them scurried after her.

As they passed the stables, Clement glanced in through the open door. Some of the horses were visible in the paddock, grazing peacefully, but Clement saw no sign of Hugo in the immediate vicinity of the stables.

Determined, Jane strode to the north edge of the ornamental gardens, to where the neatly manicured lawns sloped to the pond, and beyond that to the the rolling meadows of the countryside. She walked with surprising speed for a woman past her youth and of somewhat stout construction.

“There,” Clement said, pointing across to the meadows: rich, grazeable land left fallow for years, perhaps decades. “A hedge might be planted, to keep the cattle a reasonable distance from the pond, which serves us as a stew pond, and the ornamental gardens. The cattle need not bother the house at all. We’ve land aplenty for a sizeable herd, by what I understand.”

“How large a herd?” Jane asked.

Trying to keep his breathing even and respectable as he regained his composure, Clement grimaced. “Madam, I’m a
valet
. I…”

“Find out, Clement,” Jane said, gentle but commanding.

“Why cattle?” Hildebert asked, with a plaintive note in his voice.

“The land is best suited to cattle,” Clement explained to him. “As are the dogs which your stable groom breeds.”

“But I do not like cattle.”

“They needn’t be near the house, darling,” Jane coaxed him, patting his arm gently. “Clement, how far does the land extend?”

“A little more than half a mile,” Clement said. “Not all of it is meadows, but there should be more than enough room for a respectable herd. Enough to keep the house in meat and milk, and to provide some income.”

“That is well, then,” Jane declared. “Half a mile. Will you walk it with me, Letty?”

“Madam, I will.”

“Jane,” Hildebert said. He drew himself up and made an attempt at using a tone of authority. “I really don’t think that this is a respectable hobby for a…”

Jane kissed him. “Hush, darling. We are landowners. We ought to make an attempt at maintaining a reasonable income from our land. Besides, you do like damsons, do you not?”

“Well, yes, but… but cattle! I do not like cattle! The entire place should smell of it!”

“So we shall plant more roses.” Smiling angelically, Jane patted his cheek and strode off with Letty trailing after her.

“Cattle!” Hildebert declared. He huffed, lifted his chin, and stared disapprovingly after his lady wife. “Can you imagine it, Clement? Cattle. I don’t see why she cannot take up a more sensible hobby.”

“Like alchemy?”

“Well, hum.” Hildebert considered that prospect, nodding decisively. “I suppose it would be just as well, yes. Better that than cattle.”

“With all respect, sir,” Clement said, “I do not know if the household could survive a pair of scientists.”

Hildebert huffed and shook his head. “Certainly not! She might cause an explosion. Science is better left to
qualified
hands.”

“I do sincerely agree,” Clement sighed, hoping that the hobbies of his employers would not turn out to be the death of him.

I
nspired by Jane’s determination
, Clement found time that evening to review the accounts for the household.

The books which Midgley provided were better than Clement had feared, though not so well as he would have hoped.

Hildebert’s father, the former Viscount Devereux, had left to him a moderate trust in addition to the estate in Herefordshire.

The estate itself, as Clement had found in the old account books of Gennerly House, created just enough income to maintain itself and the skeleton staff that had formerly occupied it. Hildebert’s trust created just enough interest to provide pocket money for himself and his wife, including excursions in London and maintenance to themselves and their wardrobe.

Even Jane’s accounts had been provided to him. She was a daughter of a military general, and the trust left to her provided an income of barely 80 pounds a year. A comfortable allotment of pin money, for the sister-in-law to a Viscount in his London house, but if Jane were ever reduced to surviving upon her own income—and Clement knew not, if Hildebert died, whether his income would be bestowed upon Jane or revert to Hildebert’s brother—she would live in the utmost economy. A tidy garret, simple meals, and no more than a maid of all work to come and do for her once or twice a week.

There was no income to provide for the new workshop that Hildebert had built, nor the supplies he had ordered, wasted, and replaced. Nor was there income to pay for the expenses of the garden party, with the costly turtle soup, the Chinese lanterns, the luxurious table linens.

A pile of bills awaited, having been thoughtfully provided by Midgley with the rest of the accounts. The butler had kept a list of expenses compiled by himself and Mrs. Ledford, the costs and purchases of the household, and Clement was grateful for that, but Midgley had given little or no thought to the
payment
of those expenses.

Some of the bills had second notices attached to them, having gone unpaid for long enough to accrue additional demands and interest. Clement would have to either defer them or pay them from the capital of Hildebert’s trust, which was already small. At this rate of spending, the trust would be drained within five years.

It was a sobering thought.

Leaving the accounts on the desk in his little private room, Clement went to report to the lady of the house.

She was engaged at embroidery while Letty read aloud from a novel. The two of them looked up with a smile as he entered.

“Clement,” Jane said, setting her embroidery aside. “Good evening.”

Without being invited, Clement brought over a chair and sat upon it.

Jane sat straighter, lifting her chin with solemn dignity and regarding him as though he was a respectable and knowledgeable figure, someone more than a mere personal valet.

“It will have to be the cattle,” Clement said, “and the orchard, and quickly.”

Jane’s face paled, and she clasped her hands in her lap. “Is it very bad?”

“I … while I do remind you that I have never before been responsible for the accounts of a household, I… according to my calculations, madam, if we continue at this rate, the household will be sunk within five years.”

“Five years.” Jane swallowed. Her hands tightened their grip on each other. “I see. The… the cattle, then.”

“And the orchard. It will require some investment, and that means drawing upon the capital of Hildebert’s income. We will need to purchase cattle stock, which must then mature and multiply before we can begin to gather income from them. Men to oversee and care for the cattle, women to milk the cows and to produce cheese from whatever of the milk and cream is not used or sold immediately. The orchard must be planted and prioritised, which means the neglect of the ornamental gardens and the diminishment of our status as a household of nobility. The gardener—Miss Grant—may require an additional hand to aid her. The conservatory may be utilised as an orangerie, which would enable us to produce fruit and preserves, but the growth of citruses—perhaps pineapples, as well—will take years before they mature. The fruit of the orchard likewise can be sold, and brandied, though the production of brandy will, again, require additional expertise and labour.”

“Do it, then,” Jane commanded. “At once. Tell Miss Grant she may have two additional staff to begin with, and she is to expand the orchard and replant the orangerie with all haste, in order to produce fruit and income. The stable groom likewise shall have authority to obtain a small initial herd and the staff he requires to care for such animals. What else?”

“It’s nearing summer, madam,” Clement said, as gently as he could, “and we must keep in mind that such industry and proceeds may not create the income we require this year, nor even next. I know nothing of the seasons of gardening or cattle maintenance. We must obtain Mr. Devereux’s consent to such disposal of his income and the inherent risks if any of our ventures are sunk.”

“I shall. What else?”

Clement swallowed. He was unaccustomed to being treated with outright authority, and hesitated to blatantly command, necessary though it was. He had for so long contented himself with gentle guidance and suggestions, proud at being able to nudge without demanding. “Mr. Devereux’s spending must be stopped. Mr. Midgley and Mrs. Ledford must be told that nothing may be ordered or bought without your approval.” He stopped just short of adding
or mine
. “Mr. Devereux must be brought to an understanding of his circumstances.”

She nodded once, short and efficient. “What else?”

“I…” Clement’s mind spun with the possibilities. Even if Hildebert agreed, there was so much to be done, so much to oversee, and Clement still had none of the authority he required in order to enact these ideas. “At the gardener’s discretion, some portion of the ornamental gardens might be used for fruits and vegetables. The kitchen garden might be expanded. We could grow fruits or flowers. The latter might be used for perfumery, or dried and sold as sachets as far away as London.”

“Consult Miss Grant about the options, and allow her the decision of it.”

“Madam,” Clement said. He nodded, head dizzied by all the plans that needed to be carried out. He would need to orchestrate all of it without blatantly undermining Midgley’s authority. The responsibility of overseeing these new projects would be in addition to his own duties as Hildebert’s valet and his work as Hildebert’s lab assistant to keep his master from blowing himself to kingdom come. The thought reminded him, painfully, that he had not seen Hildebert in the house, and could not be certain that his master had not snuck off to the laboratory after dinner.

Getting to his feet, Clement bowed, hiding behind a dutiful facade how loudly his heart was pounding. “I will.”

I
n the morning
, Clement made the most shamefully cursory performance of his valet duties that he had ever produced.

He whisked Hildebert’s breakfast tray upstairs, bullied him into his clothing, and then herded him into the sunroom, where Jane was already waiting with tea, scones, and jam.

Pouting about the perfunctory treatment he had received, Hildebert helped himself gladly to the scones. He set about piling cream and jam upon them until the scone could hardly be seen beneath the condiments.

“Hildebert, darling,” said Jane, with a serious but gentle smile. She poured him a cup of tea.

Clement left them to it.

He found Hugo in the stables, watching over the very pregnant mare. She looked ill, lying on the straw in her stall, although her head lifted with interest as Clement approached. Approving of what she found, her head returned to rest upon the straw.

“How is she coming along?” Clement asked.

“Poorly. The foal is late, and sluggish.” Hugo ran his hand gently over the horse’s belly. “Most days I cannot feel it moving. I’m not certain if it…”

He cut himself off, though certainly the horse could not understand the suggestion. Hugo petted comfortingly at her ears. “She’s one of my best horses. She knows that something is the matter.”

Clement knelt by the horse’s head. He didn’t know how to comfort or encourage an animal, and settled for patting lightly at her neck. “There, there. Brave girl.”

“Did you bring more poetry?” Hugo asked. “She might quite like it.”

“Would she?” Clement smiled. “I had not taken her for a horse with a taste for poetry.”

“She is a very cultured equine,” Hugo said, smiling playfully.

“I should have assumed as much, yes.” Smiling in return, Clement shook his head, reminding himself that he did have business to attend, and rather urgently so. “I need to speak to you about… this sounds mad.”

Hugo’s lips curved wider in a grin. “Another of Hildebert’s whims?”

“No, in truth, I think it’s one of
mine
. Jane has seized upon it, and desires that I shall realise it.”

“Tell me, then.”

“I…” Clement fidgeted, struggling to find a phrasing that did not sound entirely ill-conceived. “Do you think it might be a sensible endeavour if we… on the estate grounds… I thought that with the dogs, you see, and the… that we might… cattle.”

“Cattle?”

“Is it madness?”

“It might be, if I entirely understood the question. What about cattle?”

“That we might have them. Raise them. Upon the land. The estate needs income, or we’ll be sunk, and we do have the land, and the dogs are cattle dogs, you did say so, and then we should have milk and cheese to sell, and the meat.
Is
it madness?”

“Cattle!” Hugo repeated. He thought about it, hand combing idly through the horse’s mane as he thought.

Clement felt a moment’s stray curiosity on the topic of whether Hugo might ever be inclined to comb his hand over Clement’s scalp in such a manner.

“It would be quite the undertaking,” Hugo warned.

“I know it. Jane is resolved, but she—and I—may certainly be advised, if you think it folly. We need to set upon some undertaking, and I think it best to have at least two undertakings, in the case that one of them is sunk. I will speak to Miss Grant, the gardener, about how we may go about expanding the orchards and the kitchen garden to such a degree as to derive income from them. And you… you will have sole oversight of the animals. A small herd, to start, or as you think best, and a man or two to be hired to care for them.”

“I… Mrs. Devereux is quite resolved? And Mr. Devereux?”

“Will be ruled by her. I do beg you to advise us plainly, Hugo. If some other venture would be wiser, we will take it. You may have full governance of the lands of the estate, whatever will not be utilised by Miss Grant and her food gardens. Shall it be cattle?”

Nodding slowly to himself, Hugo mulled over the issue for several long moments before he came to his decision. “Cattle. A small herd. I’ll acquire a man with some expertise in the matter, and we may be able to utilise the services of one of our footmen also, or a boy from the village. We’ll need to plant slow hedges, likewise.”

Clement blinked at him without comprehension. “Slow hedges? Are we not in a hurry?”

Laughing, Hugo dropped his head back against the stable wall. The laughter rolled through him in warm chuckles, like bubbles in porridge. Carefully dislodging the mare’s head, he got to his feet. “Sloes, Clement. Blackthorn. The hedges are just the thing for cattle. They can’t get through, and the fruit can be used for sloe gin and whatever else you please. It’s late in the season for their planting, but Esther may be able to secure some large cuttings which will take quickly enough to set down roots for winter.”

“I’ll mention it to her,” Clement said. He gave Hugo a wary smile and stepped closer, just within reach of him but not touching. “Truly, perhaps, you might also mention it to her. I cannot be certain I will not forget.”

Hugo’s smile was wide and gentle, tilting more to one side than the other. “It would not be like you to forget.”

“Perhaps not, but I have been terribly busy lately, and I have ever so many things to remember. I ought to hurry back—if Hildebert makes short work of agreeing to Jane’s plans and escapes her, he may take it into his mind to try alchemy on his own, and I am sincerely fearful for his life.”

“You have been busy. I’ve not seen you in two days.” Hugo reached out a hand toward Clement’s elbow, but stopped himself before he made contact. “I confess… I had some fear you had taken to avoiding me.”

Clement reached out for him, but also stopped just short. He clasped his hands together to keep himself contained. “I am not avoiding you. I swear it.”

“I feared that the kiss had driven you from me.”

“It has not. It could not. Hugo…”

Clement found himself very close to Hugo, but still neither of them would reach out and secure contact.

“Will you kiss me again, then?”

“I will,” Clement vowed.

“Now?”

“I…” Clement wanted to kiss him, but somehow it seemed to become the most difficult undertaking in the world. He hesitated, fidgeting in place because he could not decide whether the business ought to start with his hands or his chest or simply with his lips. Deciding at last upon the latter, Clement leaned in and delivered a swift, nervous kiss to Hugo’s lips.

The muddled expression upon Hugo’s lips was simultaneously amused and disappointed. “Is that the best you have time for?”

“Oh, heavens above, Hugo,” Clement said, foolish and giddy. “I haven’t the first idea how to kiss you properly.”

Hugo laughed, and the clouds of disappointment cleared from his brow. One of his hands came to rest very lightly on Clement’s waist, and the other clasped around Clement’s jaw as he took another kiss from him. This one lingered, sweet and slow, and Clement returned it as best as he could, moving his lips to respond to the movement of Hugo’s lips. Doing so sent warm little ripples of pleasure through his entire body. His hands reached for Hugo in return, winding around his back and clasping him close.

This time, when the kiss broke, Clement’s head felt light with joy and affection.

“You are so busy,” Hugo murmured, and now his hand did come to caress over Clement’s hair. “I worry for you.”

“You oughtn’t worry for me. I might likewise worry for you. You’ve been kept busy building the workshop, seeing to the new foals, and now you’ve a herd of cattle to worry about. And slow hedges to hurry along.”

Hugo laughed. “Christ’s wounds, Clement, they’re blackthorns and they grow just as swift as any other hedge. I’ve more reason to worry about you. The amount you do, Clement. It’s remarkable.”

“I’m only a valet.”

“You are not. I’ve seen you. You’re serving as his companion, his laboratory assistant, you’re constantly tidying up after Midgley’s incompetence—”

“He isn’t incompetent, he’s simply overwhelmed.”

“
You’re
overwhelmed. Ledford is beginning to rely upon you, and now you tell me that Mrs. Devereux has set upon you to play steward and arrange for cattle and orchards.”

“It isn’t any trouble, truly. I wash my hands of the matter. You’re the one who will have to see to these hedges and the acquisition of cows. Likewise I do not intend to plant any orchards. My only responsibility is in regards to the expenses and revenues thereof.”

“You’re seeing to the
accounts
?” Hugo asked. His brow furrowed with concern.

Abashed, Clement ducked his head and cleared his throat. “I’ve looked them over. Someone must, and Midgley isn’t up to the task, so I… it isn’t much trouble, truly…”

“Clement.”

“Don’t scold,” Clement said. He smiled fondly, enjoying having someone to scold and worry at him, and kissed Hugo again in hopes of preventing further scolding.

Hugo returned the kiss, but it did not last as long as the former one. “I worry for you.”

“I pray you will not. I am well.”

“You are seeing to the duties of at least five people.”

“You are exaggerating,” Clement insisted. Hugo’s chest was warm against his own, and Clement liked the way it rose and fell against him with each breath.

“Valet, steward, butler,
under-
butler…”

Clement swatted at him. “No, I pray you, stop
listing
them.”

“Companion,” Hugo said.

Clement kissed him again, holding tight to him and savouring the feeling of warmth, intimacy and affection which he had never previously enjoyed.

“Lab assistant,” said Hugo.

“Now you are simply bullying me,” Clement said, and let go of him. “I ought to return.”

“I know.” Hugo sighed, and reluctantly released him. “You might… you might come to me tonight. When your duties are complete.”

“I fear it will be late, if so.”

“Even so.”

Hugo’s smile was wistful. Clement nodded, and went.

B
y the time
he got back, Hildebert had already escaped.

Clement stepped through the door to the sunroom, slightly out of breath, and found Jane alone in the room. He clenched his teeth to keep back a groan.

“Madam,” Clement said, and bowed.

Jane smiled at him over her book. “Good morning, Clement.”

“I’ve spoken to Mr. Ogden. He agrees that cattle are the best option, and will negotiate with Miss Grant to plant sl—blackthorn hedges, which are best suited to cattle.”

“Are they? I’m glad. And Miss Grant?”

Clement tensed. He hadn’t been to speak with Miss Grant. He’d hurried back from seeing Hugo, for fear of Hildebert blowing his whiskers off. “Right away, madam. And the master?”

“He understands,” Jane said. “Go ahead with your plans, Clement. As you think best.”

“Madam,” Clement said, bowing again. “Ah—where is it that Hildebert has gone?”

“To his workshop, I believe. He thought of something he wanted to investigate.”

“I must see if he requires assistance, then. Excuse me, Mrs. Devereux.” Bowing once more to her, Clement excused himself.

He forced himself to take the stairs at a decorous pace. He knew not how long Jane had delayed Hildebert, and therefore how much of a lead Hildebert had on him.

Hildebert’s gait was a leisurely one. If Clement hastened, if Hildebert hadn’t left too many minutes ago, he might be able to catch up with his employer before he was able to begin an experiment. Searching his mind, Clement strove to recall what plans Hildebert had made and what alchemical endeavours had been on his list to attempt.

Having witnessed Hildebert seize upon various ingredients as if their proximity alone made them the correct selection, Clement dreaded the thought of him being left alone in his laboratory for any length of time.

“Clement!”

Freezing upon the bottom step, Clement leaned over the stair railing and peered down the hall.

Mr. Midgley was stomping down the hallway toward him, features set with determination.

Clement sighed, but composed his features into professional patience. “Mr. Midgley?”

“What is this? See here, Clement. There’s some sort of…” Mr. Midgley shook a fistful of papers at him. “They want money!”

Clement reached for the papers, but Mr. Midgley shifted his grip on them so that he could stab a finger at the writing upon the page. “What the devil is this, Clement? Is this some of your nonsense?”

Biting back a retort, Clement seized upon the page with one hand, even though Mr. Midgley would not yet release it. “You’re going to have to speak more clearly, Mr. Midgley. What is this concerning?”

“Window-glass! It is an invoice for window glass! Can you imagine? What nonsense. What the devil do they suppose we’d do with window-glass?”

“The workshop, Mr. Midgley.”

Mr. Midgley went white, then red, as he realised the simple and obvious solution to his question. “Oh. Yes. So it is. Did your Mr. Ogden make this order? I approved no such thing.”

“I imagine Mr. Devereux approved it. I know not who would have placed the order, though it may have been Mr. Ogden.” Clement tugged at the pages, failing to extract it from Mr. Midgley’s grip. “If you will allow me, I shall see the invoice recorded with the other accounts and arrange payments.”

Mr. Midgley released the pages, but he peered at Clement with stark disapproval. “What do you think you’re about, Clement?”

“Sir?”

“I think you’re impertinent and grasping.”

Clement felt his face heat with indignation. “Mr. Midgley.”

“I don’t know what you said to Mrs. Devereux to give her the idea that some mere valet ought to be in charge of the household accounts, but I do not approve. I think it is quite out of line. You ought to be mindful of your station, Clement, and your
betters
.”

A crinkling of paper alerted Clement that his hands had tightened into fists on the invoice pages. “I mean no impertinence, sir. My only desire is to serve this household to the best of my ability.”

“Your desire, Clement,” Mr. Midgley said. His face puffed up, red with anger. “Is to see me
sacked
.”