Alyssa groaned.
“Those are Lady Tressingham’s orders, miss. And she ain’t going to brook any opposition. You must be on your best behavior, or you will be forbidden to ride at all.” Abrams softened his gaze. “And attending to your best behavior means that you’re to forget about cleaning stalls and appropriating the horse leavings.”
“What am I going to do about the gardens?” she asked. “I’ve already designed the new beds and started transplanting the pink rhododendrons—”
“You’re going to be a most obedient daughter and leave the designing of the new flower beds and the transplanting of the pink rhododendrons to the gardeners employed to perform those tasks.”
“Mother?
?” Alyssa breathed, recognizing the scent of her mother’s perfume seconds before she heard her voice. Alyssa looked up to find her mother standing in the center aisle of the stable perfectly coiffed and immaculately dressed in a pale blue muslin gown topped with a dark blue pelisse. “You’re awake—I mean—” Alyssa stumbled over her words. “What brings you here?”
“At this ungodly hour?” Lady Tressingham smiled. “I might ask the same of you.” She sniffed, wrinkling her nose at the pungent odor emanating from the wooden cart. “But the smell speaks for itself.”
“I can explain—”
“I don’t require an explanation. As I haven’t yet reached my dotage, my eyesight, my hearing, and my sense of smell are quite acute.” Lady Tressingham lifted an eyebrow at her wayward daughter. “However, I do require that my daughter and my servants obey my instructions. Rhododendrons or no rhododendrons.”
“But, Mother…”
“Drop the fork, Alyssa.” Lady Tressingham’s softly spoken words were tempered with pure iron will.
Alyssa swallowed her words of protest and dropped the fork.
Lady Tressingham unfastened the dark blue pelisse she was wearing and handed it to her daughter. “Put that on.
Alyssa obeyed without protest, slipping her arms into the pelisse before fastening it over her riding habit.
“Now, bid Abrams a pleasant good morning, then turn and march out of the stable and back into the house.”
“Good-bye, Abrams.” Alyssa turned and started out of the stable, then glanced back over her shoulder. “Will you see that the—”
“Not a another word,” Lady Tressingham cautioned, punctuating her words by waggling her index finger at Alyssa.
“But, Mother, there’s no sense in letting perfectly good fertilizer go to waste…” Alyssa was fair to bursting with indignation.
“Fertilizer!” Lady Tressingham’s voice rose an octave and she fought to bring it back down to its normal register before continuing. “I don’t care about fertilizer! I care about you! I care about your future, your reputation, and your prospects. Servants talk, Alyssa. They tattle to other servants. Servants who work for other families. Good families. With sons. Go. Now.” She pointed toward the expansive lawn separating the house from the stables where a small army of gardeners and their assistants clipped the boxwood borders and worked the soil in the spring beds. “Abrams has his instructions. And you have yours. So don’t so much as glance at the gardens or open your mouth again until we reach the safety of your bedchamber.”
* * *
Lady Tressingham rang for Alyssa’s abigail as soon as they reached Alyssa’s bedchamber.
“You sent for me, miss?” Durham bobbed a curtsy as she entered Alyssa’s bedchamber.
“I sent for you,” Lady Tressingham announced, stepping around Alyssa’s curtained tester bed and into view.
“Beg pardon, milady.” Durham bobbed another curtsy. “I did not realize you were within.”
“Or that my daughter has been without, apparently,” Lady Tressingham commented dryly.
“Ma’am?” Durham blinked at Lady Tressingham’s tone of voice, then smothered a yawn with her hand.
“Go below and bring up a breakfast tray of toast and hot chocolate, then draw a bath for Lady Alyssa,” Lady Tressingham instructed. “Oh, and stoke the coals before you go. My daughter has a habit to be rid of.”
“Beg pardon, milady, but housemaids are charged with stoking the coals. I am a ladies’ maid.”
Lady Tressingham narrowed her gaze at the maid. Durham had come highly recommended, but it was quite obvious that the maid was oblivious to the tension in the room and to the reason her presence had been requested. The woman appeared to be as thick as treacle pudding. And with a ladies’ maid like that, it was no wonder Alyssa managed to sneak out of her bedchamber dressed in rags like a street urchin.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!”