I find I have a use for you...
Claymore's words looped in Charlie's head like a revolving wheel. Her thoughts turned slow and sluggish. Her tongue was thick. And all she could focus on was the earl's scent of spice and musk. It blanketed her. His body shadowed her. And she found her thoughts scattering like so much fog.
It had taken the clattering of footsteps to shake her back into the present.
Had the man just offered her employment?
Before Charlie could understand the implications of such a thing - the abrupt change in her fortunes for better or for worse - the proprietor's voice sounded as his steps shuffled into the stables. No doubt the man had just been informed of the scuffle that had transpired upon his property.
Charlie knew the man only showed concern because the earl had been a participant - however unwittingly, that was.
The proprietor's mumbling could be heard followed by the chittering of others coming out to investigate. They were like a flock of sheep, Charlie thought uncharitably. Too frightened to offer assistance, but more than willing to gawk and bleet in the aftermath.
Charlie wondered if the earl had even taken notice of them for his attention hadn't wavered from her.
Claymore's body remained much too close for comfort. But she couldn't protest the advantages. She was able to catalogue the man from the ballroom with the one standing before her now. Though he was dressed in more casual clothing, he still bore a striking figure. He was taller than she remembered, his eyes a darker gray - an intense gray that seemed to uncover her every secret.
Which was quite preposterous, surely.
"Oh, my lord! I came as soon as I heard!" The proprietor's words came from behind Charlie.
Claymore gave Charlie one last look from beneath his brows, a smile playing about his lips, as he stepped away from her. Charlie scampered from the corner, taking her first deep breath of fresh air since the earl had awoken.
Since Charlie had found her body secured beneath his.
Charlie shut off the thoughts, walking over to Sir Rupert who watched the commotion of one who was mildly interested, but wearily so. Charlie took the moment to compose herself, inadvertently seeking escape. It was not to be, however. Charlie was quite trapped. Claymore's body blocked the route before her while the voice of the proprietor hovered behind.
She watched as Claymore's mask fell into place, his jaw hardening and his chin lifting. He looked down his nose at the proprietor appearing every inch the displeased and disgruntled aristocrat.
Charlie went unheeded as the proprietor moved around her, his eyes silently taking stock of the earl's appearance.
She found that it bristled. What if she had been harmed herself? Not to mention that it was, after all, her horse who had been targeted. Her, who had befallen such circumstances at this dueced establishment.
Unfortunatley for her, however, a lowly gentleman was of far less consequence than the health of a member of the peerage.
The proprietor paled as he came close to the earl. His brown eyes widened and his mouth hung agape as he hustled forward. He fluttered about, equal parts panic and outrage mottling his freckled complexion. "I can't believe it, my lord. I heard it was horse thieves. Thieves!" He spat, his palms stretched out beside him. His eyes rose to Claymore's gash, and the man twisted around sharply, snapping his fingers at a stable hand. "Don't just blather about, staring so. Call the constable at once! And ring for the doctor for his lordship!"
The stable hand was already scurrying to do the proprietor's bidding when Claymore stopped him.
"No need for a constable, Mr. Mulberry." The earl glanced at Charlie from the corner of his eyes, almost slyly, before he faced the proprietor.
Mr. Mulberry shuffled his feet, glancing between the earl and the boy he had scolded. Charlie could see the man debating whether to follow Claymore's orders or do whatever was in his power to keep his reputation intact and his clientele happy.
The proprietor cleared his throat, his voice tentative, as he asked, "But surely you must wish recompense. The man blundered you! It's unheard of," he mumbled, his hands running through his shorn brown locks. "Thieves attacking my patrons."
"And yet, it appears that your establishment has fallen prey, nonetheless. Who was in charge of watching the horses during that time?"
Charlie's shocked gaze went to the earl. It sounded like a genuine chastisement, as if he was offended for her safety, for the safety of any other's. Just as quickly, Charlie dashed the idea. Surely, Claymore was simply angry because he had been dragged quite unceremoniously into Charlie's whole affair and suffered for it.
But perhaps, she thought, taking in Claymore's reddened cheeks and clenching fists, he did care in some manner. Charlie had seen the man's honor not once, but twofold. Â He had aided her when she was Lady Charlotte, casting a punch to another peer when most wouldn't have waded in at all.
Hadn't, truth be told.
And now, with her as Charlie, a man the earl had no possible reason to help in any way, when she had been waylaid by thieves. Allowing himself to be injured when he had deflected the thieves away from her huddled position in the stall.
She had struck him - accidentally or not - and Claymore had yet to chastise her for it. Or allow the proprietor to call for the constable. What was his game? she wondered.
Suspicion had her biting her lip.
Had he truly offered her employment? It was enough to have her wondering if the earl was rather touched in the head. Why the devil would a lord with the most renowned stables in England - one known equally for his solitude as he was for his skills - allow someone he had just met, one who had dragged his person into a scuffle, to work within its confines?
"My sincerest apologies are given, my lord." The proprietor's halting words broke into Charlie's thoughts. Mr. Mulberry clasped his hands nervously before him, eyes shifting to take in all the curious gazes. "This was a most unfortunate situation, indeed. While it has never happened before, surely you must agree that it was bound to happen, what with all the illustrious personages like yourself who deign to frequent my humble establishment."
Charlie almost gagged at the ingratiating drivel the man was spouting. Was the earl actually going to fall for that load of horse shite?
She turned from Mr. Mulberry only to find Claymore's eyes on her. He smiled, almost as if he had heard her thoughts. Their eyes locked for a moment before Claymore cleared his throat, meeting Mr. Mulberry's panicked gaze. "Be glad that no lasting harm was done. The gash is merely but a scrape now."
Charlie choked, changing it into a cough as collective gazes fell upon her. Including, she noted, Mr. Mulberry. Claymore raised one brow at her, an imperious gesture that Charlie wished to rid the earl of postehaste.
If that gash was a mere scrape, Charlie thought, then mayhap dressing as a stable hand would miraculously change her gender as well. Even now, dried blood had plastered to his forehead, a stark stain against his tanned skin.
The rest of him looked nigh better. The earl's shirt was untucked and hanging limply along the bottoms of his tailcoat. It was stained with dirt from Charlie's clubbing on his forehead. His hair had parted haphazardly, this way and that. Strands falling in front of his eyes and around his ears.
"Actually, it is quite a story." Claymore's lighthearted voice snapped Charlie's gaze to him. The earl smiled brightly at her as he approached the lingering proprietor. Charlie watched in suspicion as Claymore placed his hand on Mr. Mulberry's shoulder, squeezing lightly in a blatant gesture of camaraderie.
Charlie narrowed her eyes at the pleased grin snaking over the earl's features.
"I'd be happy to relate this evening's events over a cup of ale, mayhap. Unless, of course," Claymore said, glancing over his shoulder at Charlie as he addressed her, "you would like to recount the happenings, dear boy?"
He paused, grinning wickedly. His gray eyes lit with a mischievous light.
"Or shall I enlighten our host, do you think?"
Charlie almost gasped aloud as understanding bombarded her.
Bloody hell, the man was blackmailing her into agreement!
"Who is the lad, my lord?" Mr. Mulberry's voice broke into their silent stare-off, and Charlie noticed the crowd had gathered even closer. Their ears were peaked, ready to listen to the latest on-dit to pass on to the next person they met.
Claymore awaited her answer silently, gaze expectant.
Charlie hesitated, unsure of her change in fortune. If the earl had been serious about his offer - of her working within his stables - then Charlie had two choices. She could either agree - a willing servant in his employ to travel who knows where and does heavens know what - or disagree - and find herself facing the constable, having to answer for her actions.
Surely any constable would understand her situation, Charlie argued. She had hardly known it was the bloody earl come to help her!
And yet, Charlie understood the limitations of her society better than most. What judge would rule in her favor - an impoverished gentleman who had no family she could call upon, no home to lay claim to, no friends to stand behind her?
The life of a poor gentleman, Charlie realized, was shaping up to be not very much different than that of a lady. Fewer choices were available to either one. Both still subject to the whims of a society where aristocrats ruled, and money and station elevated all those lucky enough to claim it.
Charlie studied Claymore's face, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. Trusting in a gentleman had yet to pan out for her. Yet, what other option did she have at the moment?
He was offering employment - a place to stay, somewhere out of the eye of her scheming uncle. It would give Charlie a modicum of safety until she could figure out her next move.
Not to mention her uncle would never think his niece would reside within a man's stables, let alone an earl's...
Add in her disguise, and Charlie found herself speaking up. She faced Mr. Mulberry, offering a tight bow. "I'm Charlie, Sir. I work for his lordship, and I came to saddle his horse when the thieves came upon us."
Charlie saw Claymore's smug smile from the corner of her eye.
It irked her. While she may be going with Claymore's game for now, in two week's time, she would sneak away with no one the wiser. She was much more than a sum of her parts, much more than what the situation had made her into. She was still herself. Still Charlotte. It was time the man knew exactly who he was playing with.
With that in mind, Charlie grinned. She met the gaze of the proprietor, scanning the crowd that had gathered to watch the proceedings. "Luckily for the earl, I was able to chase off the villains before they caused him too much harm."
The smile that only moments ago had graced the earl's face, fell off abruptly. Charlie met the earl's cool gray eyes. Her brows raised in challenge, she turned from him, meeting a willing audience.
"He tackled the one man. Bit him too." Claymore choked at that, while the proprietor's eyebrows rose further and further until they disappeared into his hairline. "But the man was able to sweep my lordship's feet from under him," Charlie kicked her leg out, reenacting the scene, "and the thief managed to bash him over the head with that metal shard there -" The object in question lay nestled in the straw, drawing the gazes around her, "- and he lifted his arm and knocked the earl down flat."
Charlie threw her fist into her open palm, making a resounding smack!
A few ladies gasped in the crowd, and Charlie leaned closer, encouraged.
"I had to defend my lordship's honor, of course. So I came at them with a knife!"
"A knife?" The earl asked, incredulous.
A lone man chortled in the crowd. One pushed up his spectacles as he moved a few steps closer, his gaze rapt.
"I slashed like so." Charlie swept her arm down in an arc, left to right."And then I brandished it like so," she swiped in an arc in the other direction, right to left, "and headed right towards them." She brought the imaginary knife before her, waving it threatening in the direction of a lady with a plain yellow smock who gasped. "And they scurried like the rats they were!"
Her story finished, Charlie rocked back on her heels. She clasped her hands together.
Silence reigned. A horse neighed a few stalls down. A gentleman coughed.
Charlie watched in fascination as the crowd moved their heads together. They glanced from her to the earl and back.
"Isn't that right, my lord?" Charlie smiled, cheeks burning from the wideness of her grin.
She met the earl's narrowed gaze. His face was red and a tick began steadily beating in his jaw. His knuckles clenched white as his gray gaze promised retribution.
Checkmate, my lord.
>>>
**Author's Note: Thank you all for staying with me! I'd like to know: what do you think will happen next? Is Charlie poking a lion that she shouldn't in Lord Greyson? What do you think he will do in return for her made-up story?
I'll be posting Greyson's scene tomorrow since he decided he had A LOT to say for himself after Charlie's stunt. Then it will be off to the stables!
Don't forget to vote or comment! I love to get feedback on my story. Until tomorrow, happy reading!**