The Valet and the Stable Groom: M/M Regency Romance (7 page)

Hugo looked at his own bowl, then to Mr. Busick’s, then to Clement with a smile. “It seems that it is.”

“Yes,” Clement agreed. He felt very foolish, and got up to get himself a bowl.

Mrs. Ledford was still standing by the stew pot. She gave it another stir, leaving the large spoon toward Clement so that he might serve himself.

Though Mrs. Ledford oversaw the business of the kitchen and the maids who did most of the cooking, this was the first time Clement had seen her employ herself in the kitchen.

“Thank you,” he said.

Mrs. Ledford gave a slight nod of acknowledgement.

Mr. Busick tidied away his dish and returned to the table with a little wooden carving and a pen knife. Mrs. Ledford served herself and sat at the opposite end of the table from Clement and Hugo.

The stew was very good, and Clement was surprised to realise that he was very, very hungry. When he had emptied his bowl, he served himself a second one.

Hugo sat beside him. At first he did not make conversation. When Clement got his second bowl and returned, Hugo began to talk about Titania and the other puppies, and then went on to speak about the horses under his care. He filled silence skilfully, requiring nothing—not even attention—from his listeners. It was soothing to listen to him relating stories and anecdotes about the stables. Clement asked him questions now and then to encourage him to continue, finding himself both relaxed and riveted by Hugo’s company.

Other servants came and went as Hugo talked. Clement’s bowl was empty, and cold, and he was not certain how long he had sat beside Hugo and listened.

At length, the stew was gone, the sky outside was dark, and Hugo fell quiet. There was a sort of uncertainty to his silence, as if a question remained which he had not asked and was not yet certain if he should ask.

Clement realised that he’d spoken hardly at all, and had done very little to carry his part of the conversation. He felt, now, that he should remedy that, but he found no words came to his lips and no topics of conversation sprang to mind.

“I suppose,” said Hugo, “that I should return to the stables.”

“Oh,” said Clement. All the other servants had gone, leaving them alone in the quiet kitchen. “It is late.”

Hugo got to his feet. He paused, holding his bowl, and looked down at it unseeing.

Clement rose also, quickly. He felt that he ought to say something, but did not know what.

“Good evening,” said Hugo, “Mr. Adair.”

“Clement,” he said, before he’d had a chance to think about what he was saying.

Hugo looked up and smiled. “Clement.”

Clement’s tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth. He swallowed. “Good evening.”

Hugo tidied away his bowl, and left.

Clement’s own bowl was still in his hands as he stared after Hugo. He felt that he had gained something, and lost an opportunity, but he could not make sense of either.

“
C
lement
!”

Hildebert brightened as Clement entered the room, getting up from his reading and coming over to greet his valet.

Confused by this, Clement blinked.

“There you are,” Hildebert said. “I have been bereft of your company all evening! We had to play cards without you.”

Clement’s confusion took a swift dive into guilt. “You might have sent for me.”

It was now Hildebert’s turn to look confused. “Ah. Yes. I suppose I might have.”

Mired in guilty confusion, Clement realised that Hildebert had grown to assume that Clement would always appear when he was wanted simply because he always
had
. He had never, in the year and a half of his employment, been away from Hildebert’s side for more than a couple of hours at a time unless Hildebert had specifically sent him on a lengthy errand.

“I beg your pardon,” Clement said, stepping close and beginning to unbutton Hildebert’s coat for him.

“Have I told you about the de Rivaz engine, Clement?”

Taking the coat from Hildebert’s shoulders, Clement went to the wardrobe to put it away. “The de Rivaz engine?”

There was a note of interest, perhaps excitement, in Hildebert’s voice. “It is a French invention, you see.”

“Is it?” Clement replied, laying out Hildebert’s night clothes. He himself had relatively little interest in French inventions, but he was very glad for the possibility of Hildebert taking an interest in some new hobby.

“Well, it is of Valais, and I cannot keep track of where the borders are with French wars and politics.”

Clement also had little interest in international politics. He made a noncommittal sound.

“It is a mechanism,” Hildebert explained, as Clement went on undressing him and getting him ready for bed, “by which one might propel a carriage. An engine, you see, which is driven by very small explosions in the hydrogen fuel.”

Clement stopped. “Very small explosions?”

“Yes,” Hildebert said, cheerful. “Controlled explosions within an internal chamber…”

“Which is attached to a
carriage
?” Clement asked, horrified.

“Isn’t it ingenious?”

Clement was tempted to declare an ultimatum that under no circumstances would anyone in this household be strapping small explosions to any carriages, but he remembered just in time that he was a mere valet, and thus ought to limit himself to respectful dissuasions. “That sounds dangerously reckless. Do we really need to resort to propelling carriages with small explosions? You have a stable full of excellent horses.”

“Oh, horses,” Hildebert said, waving his hand dismissively. “Only very dull people care about horses.”

Clenching his jaw, Clement restrained himself from expressing the opinion that sensible people with healthy levels of self-preservation did not strap small explosions to carriages. He wasn’t at all sure that Hildebert had obtained the right idea of this peculiar French mechanism, and thought that his employer might have mentally embroidered upon a newspaper report which had foregone accuracy for sensationalism.

B
y the next morning
, Clement had forgotten entirely about the exploding French engine, and thought nothing of it when Hildebert shut himself up in his study to work.

Making certain that Hildebert had adequate supplies of paper and ink for his correspondence and tea and bread to sustain himself, Clement retired to the upstairs parlour. Letty was there, engaged in reading a novel.

“Any good?” Clement asked.

“Oh, yes,” Letty said. “Jane just finished it. Already there’s been a kidnapping, a murder, and the heroine is in love with a smuggler. The whole thing is terribly bloody.”

Clement wrinkled his nose. “I wish you enjoyment of it.”

He took a seat on the overstuffed ottoman near her. “Letty.”

“Mm,” Letty said, then looked up and blinked. “Oh, Clement. What the devil is the matter? You look like a beaten puppy.”

“I’m not… I don’t. Nothing is the matter.”

Letty shut her book and set it in her lap.

Clement grimaced. “Letty, how does… how does one go about making conversation?”

The befuddled look Letty gave him made Clement deeply regret the question.

“I rather believe we’re at it right now,” Letty said.

“I don’t mean that.”

“One opens one’s mouth…”

“Letty.”

She folded her hands in her lap and waited.

“What ought one to do if there is a lull in conversation? Or if conversation has never properly started to begin with?”

“Discuss the weather.”

“No, I dare not. It is always dreary and everyone is perpetually blaming the weather on the Welsh, and you do know how I hate that.”

Letty’s lips pursed and pulled to one side.

“We are not in Wales and I rather like the Welsh,” Clement snapped.

Letty’s lips shifted to the other side, still pursed. She coughed.

“I am entirely sincere, Letty. What else do people converse about?”

Sighing, Letty set her book to the side and sat forward. “Show interest in people, Clement. Inquire about their families. Their pastimes. Their duties. Even the dullest and most dedicated persons have topics about which they are passionate. Like you and suit fabrics.”

Clement bristled. “All respectable valets should have a thorough understanding of fashionable fabrics and their proper care.”

“There, you see? If there was a lull in conversation and I didn’t wish to talk, I could simply get you started on the topic of suit fabrics.”

“It is an
important
topic,” Clement said. “You yourself ought to be constantly expanding your knowledge of fabrics for gowns and—”

“So it is simply a matter of finding out,” Letty said, speaking over him, “for any particular person, what topics they are most passionate about.”

Clement thought that over. He had already determined that Hugo was passionate about the care of dogs and horses, and could speak about them at length. Letty’s advice might be of some use in furthering an alliance with Mrs. Ledford, but he thought he needed something more impressive to secure Hugo’s attention and admiration.

“But if I just let them talk, even if I have found such topics,” Clement said, furrowing his brow in consternation, “eventually they will stop talking.”

“Oh dear,” Letty said, and sighed.

“Who will stop talking about what?” Jane asked, shutting the parlour door behind herself as she entered.

Clement rose swiftly to an attentive posture. Jane gave him a fondly bemused glance, and took a seat near Letty.

“Clement wishes to improve his skill at conversation,” Letty explained.

“Ah,” Jane said.

They both seemed irritatingly determined not to stand upon any sort of social convention regarding the proper distance between employers and employees. Clement returned to his seat and scowled.

“You cannot simply let them talk,” Letty explained. “You have to continue to ask questions. Even if it is feigned, one ought to show interest in another’s conversation.”

“Letty is very good at feigning interest,” Jane teased.

Letty glanced over at her, brow furrowed, and the two of them shared some unspoken private joke. Then Letty sighed primly and resumed what she’d been saying.

“You must ask questions about their topic in order to encourage them to continue talking. That way, they shall be pleased at your interest and perhaps, if they are not very boring, you may learn something new.”

“Who is it,” Jane asked, “that you seek as a conversation partner?”

“Perhaps not a conversation partner,” Clement said. “Simply that… well, I found that when I had retired to the servants’ kitchen yesterday, that I was in fact not very good at carrying on a conversation with the other servants. And my lack at the skill made me feel out of place and very foolish.”

“Ask questions,” Letty said.

“What if I cannot think of any questions?”

“There are some questions that one ought always to keep in reserve,” Jane interjected. “For they are nearly always of use. You may ask a person from whence they come. You may, carefully, ask if their parents are living, and inquire politely of their health. You may inquire if they have any siblings, and as to the health and prosperity of those siblings. If they are married or possessed of children you ought almost certainly ask after the health of their spouse and their children. Nearly every married person will be glad to speak about their spouse, even if they do strain courtesy by complaining about their spouse, and most every parent will be glad to exhaust the patience of everyone around them by going on about their children at great length.”

“I don’t believe that he’s married,” Clement said.

Both Jane and Letty regarded him with great interest. “Who isn’t?”

Clement tensed as he realised his mistake and sought about for a way to deflect their interest. “The, ah, stable groom. Mr. Ogden. I was seated beside him yesterday, and I fear I made a very poor showing at supper-table conversation.”

“Oh,” said Letty.

Clement grimaced, feeling he had been a little
too
successful at being boring.

“
I
’ve decided
,” said Hildebert over lunch, “to build an engine.”

Clement dropped a fork.

Jane paused with a spoonful of soup halfway to her lips. “An engine?”

“The
de Rivaz
engine,” Hildebert said, proudly.

Letty, who was quietly attending her mistress from the far side of the dining room, gave Clement a quizzical look.

Clement rescued the fork and set it neatly upon the tray, fetching a clean one from the nearby drawer and setting it by Hildebert’s plate.

“What is a de Rivaz engine?” Jane asked.

Clement focused himself on taking steadying breaths while Hildebert explained about the very small explosions in the hydrogen fuel. He prayed that Jane would have the sense to dissuade her husband from this dangerous and possibly suicidal new project.

“How exciting!” said Jane.

Clement began to reconsider whether he might follow up with his contacts in London about alternate, less explosive, employment.

“I’ve sent to London to acquire a copy of the blueprints,” Hildebert explained. “And I’ve ordered Midgley to begin acquiring some of the supplies that I’ll need.”

“How fascinating! What supplies?”

“Oh, well. Metal. Bronze, I suppose? Pipes and gears and such, I’m sure it will all be quite clear once I have the blueprints.”

“Perhaps,” Clement said, “it would be safer to start with smaller mechanisms, and to work up to the de Rivaz engine.”

“Oh, to be sure!” Hildebert said. “Smaller explosions, with a much more contained amount of hydrogen.”

“Where are you going to get hydrogen?” Jane asked. The sparkle in her eye made Clement suspect she was enjoying Hildebert’s madcap project rather too much. “It’s a gas, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes,” said Hildebert. “Couldn’t I simply send to London for it?”

“I suppose so,” Jane said. “But where shall London get hydrogen? Is it mined from the earth or extracted from the air?”

Gaping briefly, Hildebert looked to Clement for assistance, as though his personal valet had some expertise in chemical acquisitions.

This, Clement decided, was an opportunity to dissuade Hildebert from the entire situation. “Hydrogen,” he said, with his best air of expertise, “is very dangerous. And explosive.”

He was not sure whether or not hydrogen was, after all, very explosive, he only knew that it was an important component of the de Rivaz engine, according to what Hildebert had said. He thought that it was possible that the hydrogen, once acquired, would require some treatment to be rendered explosive fuel for the dangerous little engine, and amended his previous statement just in case he was later proven wrong.

“Moderately explosive,” he said, regarding them sternly.

Jane was chewing at her lip at a way which hinted at suppressed laughter. Clement allowed his stern gaze to linger a moment longer upon her.

“It would be very hazardous to bring such explosive material into the house.”

“Oh,” said Hildebert. “That is true.”

He frowned, disappointed, and returned to his soup.

Clement directed a look toward Letty which he hoped expressed that
this is what happens when they don’t have proper socialisation with their own class.

Letty smiled, and said, “You ought to have a workshop.”

Hildebert brightened like a sunrise, while Clement felt all the blood drain from his face.

“A workshop!” said Hildebert. “Indeed, I ought! Imagine it, Jane, I should be a
gentleman inventor.
”

“How very gallant,” Jane praised him, beaming.

“There are grounds,” Hildebert said, “and buildings, any of which might be put to use as a workshop.” He nodded decisively. “I shall have a workshop. And then, at once, I shall begin upon the construction of the de Rivaz engine. I’m certain that once I have learned the basic design, it will not be much trouble at all to improve upon it.”

B
y the end
of the luncheon, Clement’s list of things to do had trebled. First, he needed to modify Midgley’s order to London, including some basic primers on mechanical and alchemical engineering and the supplies thereto, in hopes that Hildebert would become bored by the introductory lessons long before he ever approached the possibility of handling explosive materials. Then, he needed to secure a workshop for his employer, somewhere safely away from the main building so that the noise and any incidents would not alarm the household, yet close enough for Hildebert’s comfort and Clement’s supervision. Once the books and supplies arrived, Clement would need to improve his own knowledge of the topics in question well enough that he could impose basic safety restrictions upon Hildebert’s experiments.

Fortunately, Midgley had been thoroughly confused by the requests and was still attempting to consult various registers in order to determine whom he might contact for such supplies. When Clement volunteered to take over the task, Midgley didn’t hesitate before handing it over. He bustled off to see to his duties about the household, and Clement bent over the registers.