Harry paused to work the knots from his neck with a groan. It didn’t matter how often he shoveled hay, it still left pains in his back.

A fine reason to hope for the job of head groom—no more damned shoveling. Not to mention better pay. His sister and daughter deserved it.

A chill had begun to weave its way through the air, tickling over his body and soothing the sweat on his skin. He eyed the pile he’d created and set the fork aside. He might complain about cleaning out the stables and he’d be happy to leave that task behind but there was nowhere else he’d rather be—aside from with his daughter perhaps. But Maisie was already showing signs of loving horses, just as he had always done. He recalled being around her age—nearly three—or perhaps a little older and visiting the stables where his father worked. The sight of great beasts of animals with their coats gleaming drawing grand carriages had captivated him. Perhaps there were men who wanted more in the world, and he could not deny he was ambitious, but only so far as he wanted more involvement with the horses. If he could take over when Johnson retired, he had several suggestions about the horse breeding program that Lord Thornefield had in place that he was certain would make it even more successful.

Harry glanced up at the hayloft as he wiped his hands on the rag hanging from his belt. He kept waiting to hear a scuffle or a squeak ever since Lady Lilith had been there. It was hard to forget her soft, trembling body against his. The truth was, he’d liked her immediately when he’d come to work on the estate. She talked down to no one and seemed oblivious to her elevated station. What she deemed as clumsy, he thought of as charming. It made her real, made her human.

He shook his head to himself and stepped out of the stables. She was not human, though. Not for him. Human meant reachable and touchable. He should not have even touched her in the first place and despite how she felt about her debut, she was destined for greater things. It would not be long until she was snatched up by a rich husband and was running her own grand house.

A few lads were working to clean the other end of the stables, so he called for them to take a quick break. He set off across the gardens toward the rear entrance to the house. The Easton estate was modest compared to some with some of the acreage having been sold off to pay for the death duties. However, the house showed signs of age-old elegance with tall windows and lots of decorative elements. Lady Lilith had informed him when he’d commented on it that it was the Jacobean style. He’d always intended to ask her more about the house, aware she’d done quite a bit of research into it’s past—but how often was he going to get a chance to speak with her alone?

He huffed out a breath. Ever since that blasted moment in the hay loft he had not stopped thinking of her. Each time he did something, he wondered what she’d think of it. Every time he closed his eyes, he remembered her body against his, and questioned whether she was happy or not, or if she needed soothing again. It was high time he forgot that moment and got on with things.

Pushing open the servants’ door, he took the steps down into the kitchen. Heat and steam clung to the air, a contrast to the chill outside. A kitchen maid worked to beat some pastry into submission while the cook stood by the range, stirring something in a pot. The scents of roasted meats and something sweeter mingled together in an odd combination.

“Papa!” Maisie jumped from the stool on which she had been sitting and dashed over, nearly knocking into another kitchen maid with a tray full of jelly molds.

“Careful,” he scolded, kneeling to take his daughter into his arms. He scooped her up and set her on his hip, pressing a firm kiss to her soft cheek.

“She’s all right,” said Mary with a grin as she set the tray down. “I have quick reflexes.”

“Has she been good?”

“Ask Mrs. George.” Mary nodded toward the cook. “She’s been helping to make soup, haven’t you, Maisie?”

“She’ll be having my job soon,” said Mrs. George.

“It tastes good, Papa. Can we have some?”

“No, little one, it’s for the marquis.” He pressed a brown curl from her face and gave her another kiss.

“I’m hungry,” Maisie protested. “Soup is good for you. Cook says so.”

He chuckled. It was hard to believe she would be four before long. She grew bigger and more inquisitive by the day. The endless questions were slowly turning into well-articulated facts as though she knew everything about the world already.

“Thank you for keeping an eye on her,” he said to Mrs. George. “Hopefully Iris will be able to take care of her tomorrow.”

Mrs. George waved a hand. “Do not thank me. Thank Mary and Anne here. They’ve done most of the work. Besides, she’s quite the help now, aren’t you, Maisie?”

Maisie nodded and looked to her father. “Papa, my belly is growling.”

“I know, I know.”

“I do have some special soup.” Mrs. George paused her stirring and filled two bowls. “Perfect for growing girls— and growing men if they’d like.” She placed the bowls on the table in the center of the kitchen and Mary dug out two spoons from a drawer.

“This growing man would love some special soup.” Harry’s stomach grumbled in appreciation of the smell.

He set Maisie down on the chair next to him and sat down to inhale the enticing scent of the soup.

“You need a wife, Harry, then you wouldn’t have to worry about who can look after Maisie. Didn’t you say it’s been three years now?”

Harry nodded. Ruth had died of complications following Maisie’s birth. It had been devastating and hard but they’d begun to carve out a new life for themselves in Hampshire since he’d moved down from the border of Scotland to be near his sister. If it wasn’t for Iris, he didn’t know what he would do. Get a wife quickly, he supposed.

Mary stopped arranging the jelly molds briefly. “My cousin works over at Uxbridge. You might know her. Pretty fair-haired girl. She’s seventeen but she’s got a smart head on her shoulders. You should meet her.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m too busy to court anyone.”

It was not that he was still pining for his late wife. She’d been a wonderful woman and would have made an excellent mother but raising Maisie had forced him to put his grief aside. However, he could not bring himself to be interested in anyone else.

At least not anyone else actually suitable for him.

He forced aside the thought of glossy hair and soft curves.

Mary laughed. “I doubt she’d expect much. A man like you, you could get almost any woman.”

He shook his head again. The problem was, he didn’t want just any woman. “Maisie wouldn’t share me, would you?”

She looked up from her bowl. “With a mama?”

He wiped a little soup from her lip. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“I would not mind, Papa, if she was nice. Papa needs kisses too,” she said to Mary who chuckled.

He smiled. “Wherever did you hear that?”

“Aunty says so. She says you need a wife so you can have kisses too, like the ones you give me.”

Harry hardly knew what to say to this. He had little idea his sister and his daughter had been talking about his love life—or lack thereof. However, the sort of kisses his sister might have been thinking of were not like the little pecks Maisie would imagine. No, when he considered the kisses he might give a woman—and one woman in particular—they were deep, intense, consuming.

The door to the kitchen creaked open and there was a thud of boots on the stairs. Harry looked up to see Will—one of the stable-hands. “Harry, looks like Redrum is foaling. She’s in distress.”

Harry glanced at his mostly uneaten soup and then his daughter. Her eyes shone with excitement.

“A baby?”

“Yes, little one, a baby.” He pressed a kiss to her head. “I might be in for a long day. Will you be all right to look after her?” he asked the women in the kitchen.

“She’s no trouble,” said Mrs. George.

The kitchen maids all made noises of agreement.

He flicked a finger over Maisie’s nose. “Be good and you can see the baby soon.”

By the time he reached Redrum, she was giving off a good sweat and pacing in her stall. He approached her with caution, keeping his voice low and soothing. She went to lie down but stood again, clearly uncomfortable.

When Harry emerged from the stables, the daylight had vanished, and he was more tired than he could fathom. He cleaned himself off by the water pump and gave Will a pat on the back. “I’ll keep an eye on her and the foal tonight. Get yourself some rest.”

What he would do with Maisie, he was not quite sure. His sister had been quite ill this morning, despite her insistence she was well enough, but Maisie would sleep through the night and hopefully not be any grief if he could collect her early in the morning.

Fatigue made his mouth dry and his eyes gritty. He gave a yawn, stretched, and headed back toward the house. Redrum’s labor had not been easy and the foal had been twisted the wrong way initially. It had taken some persistence, but they’d managed to get Redrum up and moving again, leading her up and down the stables until the foal was in a better position to be born. Hopefully there would be no more problems but Harry wasn’t willing to leave it to chance—and this foal would be worth quite the fortune one day.

When he got to the house, only Mary remained in the kitchen. Her hands were covered in flour and a little of it was dusted in her hair. She smiled sleepily at him. “I have to finish these for tomorrow. Looks like you have had a long day too.”

“No longer than usual but a tiring one.” He glanced around the kitchen. “Where’s Maisie?”

Mary bit her bottom lip. “Well, she…managed to sneak upstairs. We were watching her constantly, I promise, but one moment she was there and then the next…”

Harry nodded. He knew all too well how quickly she could slip away when she wanted.

“Anyway, Lady Lilith found her curled up in the library so she offered to keep an eye on her. I hear they’ve been having a marvelous time together.”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. The marquis would not be impressed with Harry’s daughter running rampant all over the house, surely? And Lilith should not have had to have taken on nanny duties.

“I had better go and get her. If I need to stay with Redrum, I need to take her to my sisters.”

“I though Iris was unwell.”

He shrugged. “Maisie will sleep through hopefully and be no bother. I had better go and retrieve her.”

Taking the steps up from the servants’ level, he stepped out into the hallway. It wasn’t as though he had never entered the house—he’d met with Lord Thornefield a few times regarding the breeding and would likely have to search him out in the early hours to inform him of the birth—but he always felt coarse and out of place in such settings.

He was aware of his muddy boots on polished floors and the way he seemed to shrink under the cavernous ceilings. He grimaced. If the butler caught him here in such a state, there’d be hell to pay. Hopefully it was only Mary having a late night and everyone was in bed, including the lord and lady.

He paused in the center of the hall. Chandeliers dripped their icy light down on him and his breaths seemed too loud. Give him a damned hayloft any day.

Ideally with a raven-haired woman in it.

He shook his head and made his way toward the library where Maisie had last been seen. He paused, his hand to the doorknob when he heard a giggle. Apparently she was still there. He closed his eyes briefly. Christ, he hoped she’d been well-behaved.

Breath held, he eased open the door. Lit with only a few lamps and a dwindling fire, the library offered a shadowy, comforting escape from all the gleaming light of the hallway. A smile struck him before he was even aware of it at the sight that greeted him.

Maisie lay on one of the rugs on the floor, her legs kicking up behind her, face planted firmly on two hands. Lilith sat next to her, her legs tucked up beside her a little like a mermaid waiting on the rocks. In front of Maisie was a huge book bound in what looked like golden leather. He couldn’t see what was in the book, but Maisie was happily jabbing her fingers all over it and saying something to Lilith. He winced at the idea of her putting her probably sticky fingers over a book that was likely written by monks thousands of years ago or something. His smile grew. He never understood how but her fingers were always sticky.

He finally took a step forward, not wishing to break the moment but knowing he could not let it go on any longer. Lilith lifted her head at the sound of his feet on the wooden boards and her smile dug so deep inside him that he feared she’d carved his insides out and left him with nothing with which to live.

He hastened forward. “I’m sorry, my lady. You should have sent her back downstairs.”

“I’m reading, Papa,” Maisie declared.

He glanced down at the book and spied a colorful engraving of a beautiful princess. No wonder his daughter had been captivated.

“We have been looking at lots of pictures,” Lilith explained, standing. “But we also looked at a few words.”

Harry dropped his gaze to the floor. Lilith could likely speak at least three languages and had read every book in here. Maisie owned no books and could master little reading. He hoped to change that but books and education cost and while he was supporting his sister and a growing child, he couldn’t afford it.

“Lil says I’m clever.” Maisie stood and clutched at his trousers. “Is there a baby? Can I see her?”

Harry shook his head. “It’s my lady,” he corrected. “And not yet. The baby needs a little rest, but you can see her tomorrow.”

His daughter’s eyes widened. “It’s a girl. Is she beautiful?”

He chuckled. “Of course.” He wouldn’t mention the horse had still been unsteady and needed a good clean from its mother before it could be considered beautiful, but he doubted Maisie would think it anything other than wonderful. “

“She can call me Lil,” Lilith said. “Everyone else does. How is the horse?”

Not everyone else. Only those who were her equals.

“All well. It was a hard birth, but mother and daughter are healthy.” He took Maisie’s hand. “I’m sorry to inconvenience you, my lady. We will leave you in peace now.”

“It has been no trouble at all, I promise. We have had fun, have we not?” She smiled at Maisie.

Maisie stuffed a thumb in her mouth and nodded. His daughter was exhausted and needed her bed swiftly or else she was going to be a handful in the morning. He prayed Iris had enough energy to deal with her.

“You will need to be good for Aunty. I must come back and keep an eye on the baby. Say thank you to Lady Lilith.”

“Fank you,” Maisie said around her thumb.

Lilith put a hand to his arm, preventing him from leaving. “Mary said your sister is ill.”

He nodded. “A cold, I think. It should pass soon enough with rest.”

“Maisie could stay here for the night. It is not like there isn’t room.” She bent and addressed Maisie. “Would you like to sleep in my room in a big bed?” She rose. “So long as Papa says it is fine with him, of course.”

Maisie let out a squeal and tugged on his arm. “Can I, Papa?”

Harry shook his head emphatically. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, my lady, but I thank you for the offer.”

“Why ever not? I am sure she will sleep perfectly well here.”

“It’s not appropriate,” he said, keeping his voice low. Maisie didn’t belong here anymore than he did.

“If your sister is unwell, it is far less appropriate to let Maisie stay with her.” Her chin jutted out and her eyes were fierce behind her spectacles.

He gave a sigh. “As you will then, my lady.”

Maisie squealed again, and he groaned inwardly. One night at a fine house with a lady should be harmless but his gut said otherwise. This had to be a mistake.