To Whisper Her Name (20 page)

S
hielded from sunlight, the air in the stable felt instantly cooler, yet closer. Olivia told herself there was as much air in here as outside. But it didn’t feel true.

She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the stable appeared even larger from this perspective than when viewed from the mansion. Rows of stalls lined both sides, each containing a pair — or two — of ominous black eyes peering her way, following her progress.

A tickle started in her nose, resulting in a sneeze, and she tugged her handkerchief from her sleeve. She looked up to see a gentleman approaching, although upon closer examination — as he took the liberty of examining
her
more closely — she decided the term
gentleman
wasn’t quite accurate.

“Good morning, sir. I’m looking for a Mr. —”

“Then you’ve come to the right place, ma’am. Because I’m a mister, for sure.” He leaned in, sniffing loudly, and Olivia took a backward step. “You sure smell pretty. Gonna make these other ladies in here mighty jealous.”

With his tongue, he poked at the bulge between his lower cheek and gum, then puckered. Anticipating what was forthcoming, Olivia looked away. But when he swallowed instead, she brought a hand to her midsection, convinced that breakfast was finally about to revolt. He was a big man, broad through the chest and powerful looking. And she wanted no part of him.

She took a needed breath. “I’m looking for Mr. Ridley Cooper. If you would be so kind as to direct me to where he —”

“Whatever he can do for you, ma’am …” He smiled, the gesture not an improvement. “I’ll do you one better. Now tell me, did you
come down here to ride? Or do you want a tour of the place? Tell me your pleasure and I’ll serve it right up.”

He braced an arm against the stall beside her, and the air thinned around her face.

“Excuse me, sir, I think I’ll —”

“Matthews!”

She looked past him to see Mr. Cooper striding toward them, thunder in his eyes.

“Matthews, you’re needed outside. In the second corral.
Now
.”

Matthews straightened and threw Mr. Cooper a none-too-friendly look, then aimed a stained-tooth smile at Olivia as he departed.

Mr. Cooper glanced out the door, then back at her. “Morning, Mrs. Aberdeen. You all right? You look a little pale, ma’am.”

Hearing the subtle query within a query, she swallowed, her stomach’s rebellion quieting. “I’m fine, Mr. Cooper.” She indicated the ledger in her grip, eager to prove she could do this. “I’m ready to get to work, if you don’t mind showing me where everything is kept.”

He hesitated, watching her, then motioned. “I’d be happy to.”

He led the way between the stalls, and she worked to keep up with him, wincing every few steps. She kept her focus straight ahead and stayed dead center in the middle of the aisle, wary of the horses peering from their stalls, not wanting to get too close.

Mr. Cooper looked back. “Am I moving too fast for you?”

“Not at all.” Her feet throbbed and she clenched her jaw, trying not to think about it. It would be hours before she could return to her room and take off her boots.

“You know …” He slowed his steps. “I half expected you to come earlier in the week. Thought you might choose to go ahead and get the worst part out of the way first.”

She heard the teasing in his voice and started to make a verbal list of all the inventorying she’d completed. But when she saw his expression, she read only kindly meant humor and decided a smile would suffice.

Without warning, a chestnut mare appeared in a stall to the right, nickering and tossing her head. Olivia jumped back, nearly losing her balance. A strong hand came around her waist and held her steady.

“It’s all right.” Mr. Cooper laughed softly. “It’s just Gem. She’s trying to give you a proper welcome, that’s all.”

Olivia glared at the mare, none too convinced about the proper welcome, but only too aware of Mr. Cooper’s hand lingering on the small of her back. “Jim doesn’t sound like a proper name for a mare.”

He frowned, but only for a second. “Oh … No, it’s Gem, as in jewel. Uncle Bob named her that, because he says he saw a diamond in the rough when she was first born. This girl’s pretty proud of herself, and with reason.” He moved to stroke the horse’s forehead. “She came in first at the track on Tuesday. This lady can fly!”

Seeing Mr. Cooper’s ease with Gem reminded her of another mare. “How is the horse you’ve been working with? The one that was hurt in the carriage accident?”

He glanced down the aisle, and Olivia followed his gaze to where the mare in question stood staring at them.

“Seabird’s coming along. She still doesn’t quite trust me yet though.”

Olivia saw evidence of that lingering distrust as they passed Seabird’s stall. The mare backed away, eyeing them both.

Much to Olivia’s relief, they reached a narrow corridor away from the stalls.

Mr. Cooper paused. “How is Mrs. Harding feeling these days?”

“I wish I could say she’s much better, but she’s not. At least she doesn’t seem to be getting any worse.”

“Did I see the doctor here again yesterday?”

She nodded. “He continues to prescribe rest, which General Harding has asked me to encourage.”

He continued down the short hallway. “You don’t agree with that?”

Realizing she’d allowed her opinion to color her tone, Olivia chose her words carefully. “It’s not that I disagree with her resting. I simply think that exercise is also good. Within reason, of course,” she added, thinking back to the day when Elizabeth fainted on the lawn. An episode that hadn’t occurred since.

Mr. Cooper led her into a room with high windows lining one of the walls, and she stopped inside the doorway and stared. Shelves from floor to ceiling, and each stuffed with boxes and crates of all sizes. On a far wall hulked a row of tall wooden cabinets, each with numerous drawers. Inventorying this would take at least two full days, maybe three. She recalled the dollar amounts she’d read in the ledger …

All of this, for racehorses.

“It’s something, isn’t it?” he asked quietly. “These animals have a better life than most people I know.”

She laughed. “I was thinking something very similar.”

“Well” — he made a sweeping gesture — “where would you like to get started? The shelves on this side hold gear like bridles and lead reins, along with halters and harnesses. On that side, in drawers, are brushes and combs and …”

He rattled off the inventory in the room as if he’d worked here for a year instead of a month. But seeing a chair in the corner, and with her feet feeling as if she’d just marched through cut glass, she quickly made up her mind to start with the drawers.

Sometime later, the bell in the tower by the servants’ cabins announced lunch, and with seven drawers inventoried and at least twice that many remaining, Olivia sat forward in her chair to stretch. Her neck and shoulder muscles burned, and her chemise was damp with perspiration. Another warm June day.

She rose from the chair, then grimaced and fell back into the seat. Her eyes watered, the pain in her feet was so intense. For a moment, all she could do was squeeze her eyes tight and wait for the throbbing to subside. Perhaps it had been the blood rushing to her feet that caused the pain, but they pulsed with heat. She wished she could remove her boots, but didn’t dare. But perhaps if she loosened the laces a little …

She worked on the left boot, then the right. It wasn’t immediate relief, but it helped. Noting how tight the boots felt, she doubted she could’ve gotten them off if she’d tried.

“I hope you’re hungry.” Mr. Cooper walked through the doorway holding a basket. “Susanna and the other ladies fixed us a good lunch.”

Olivia looked to make sure her skirt covered her boots. “How kind of them.” She touched the back of her hand to her forehead and felt moisture. She was sure she looked a sight.

He gestured. “Care to take a break and join me outside?”

Eager to trade the warmth of this room for fresh air, she hesitated, uncertain she could stand, much less walk. As nonchalantly as possible, she put pressure on the soles of her feet. Hot needles of pain fanned in all directions.

Tucking her chin, she breathed through gritted teeth as embarrassment warmed her further. She gradually looked up. “Would you mind terribly if we ate in here instead?”

He stepped closer. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” But even as she said it, her body broke out in a damp sweat.

He set the basket aside. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. I simply need to —”

“Remember?” He looked at her pointedly. “That doesn’t work with me.”

She clenched her jaw, not appreciating his supervisory tone. “My feet are just a little sore, that’s all.”

He frowned. “From what?”

“From
walking
.” She hoped he caught the slight sarcasm in her tone.

He looked down at her feet, and she could see his mind turning.

“Where did you walk?”

She looked away. “Around the estate.”

“How far around the estate?”

“A ways.”

“How far is
a ways
?”

Feeling like a foolish child and resenting him for it, she exhaled. “I walked to the other places to do the inventory this week, and I —”

“You
walked
to all those places? To the cattle farm too? And the sheep?”

Incredulity darkened his tone, and she sought to match it in her own. “Is that not what I just said?” Knowing he knew her fear only made having to admit this worse. “How did you
think
I would get there, Mr. Cooper?”

“I assumed you would have called one of the servants to drive you in a buggy. That would have been the logical thing.”

His use of the word
logical
triggered something deep within. “I didn’t feel at liberty to do that. Not after the general had suggested I
ride
.”

He exhaled, disbelief hardening his features.

In all her life, Olivia had never wanted to leave a room more. The countless times Charles had lectured and berated her for doing something “wrong” or for failing to meet his expectations … Yet she’d sat there and taken it — his smug, pitying looks — wishing she’d had the courage to leave. And now she had the courage, but not the means.

A shadow eclipsed Mr. Cooper’s expression, followed by a flood of understanding, chased by regret, and finally the worst of all … pity.

“
Don’t
look at me like that, Ridley Cooper.”

He moved closer. “Why didn’t you ask me to take you? I would’ve taken you.”

“I didn’t need for you to take me. I got there myself.”

“Yes.” He gave a brief laugh. “I can see that.”

Something snapped inside her. She bent and quickly retied the laces on her boots and stood. Unprepared for the lightheaded feeling that flooded her, she used the cabinet to steady herself, raising a hand of warning when Mr. Cooper drew closer.

“Sit back down, Olivia.”

She strode past him, anger and bruised pride giving her strength she didn’t know she had. At the end of the hallway, she paused for a few seconds and leaned against the wall for support. She swallowed a groan, feeling the seams of her boots about to split open.

Hearing him behind her, she pushed on, stone-silent tears slipping down her cheeks. Thankfully, the lunch hour saw the stable emptied of workers. But not horses. She kept to the center, like before.

“Olivia, please come back. I want to talk to you.”

She didn’t turn around. “You’ve already said quite enough, Mr. Cooper. Now leave me alone.”

She was halfway down the line of stalls when the lightheaded feeling returned in force. But it was the floor beneath her turning to white hot coals that finally proved too much.

R
idley caught Olivia as she sank down. “It’s all right,” he whispered, lifting her in his arms. “I’ve got you.” For lack of a better option, he carried her into a freshly-hayed stall and laid her down, mindful of her feet.

She looked up at him, her chin trembling. Whether from anger or crying, he wasn’t sure. Maybe both.

Her face was drained of color, her breathing heavy, but despite the evidence of tears, her eyes were fierce. “I don’t want your pity!”

“Good. I’m not offering it.”

She raised up on her elbows. “And I’d prefer not to have your help.”

Hearing her injured tone, but mostly wounded pride, he laughed. “Well, I’m afraid you’re stuck with that — unless you want to be in here when Juliet gets back from being exercised. She’s due to foal any day so things could get pretty exciting.”

Olivia Aberdeen fixed him with a glare, then gave her head a tiny shake. Just as he had the day they’d first met, he glimpsed what remained of the obstinate little girl still tucked somewhere inside.

Seeing her hastily tied boots, he knelt at her feet. But she quickly yanked her skirt down over her ankles, her expression relaying her intent.

He sat back on his haunches. “Tell me you’re not serious.”

She shook her head. “It’s not proper.”

“But it’s just your feet!”

“I’d …” She glanced to the side. “I’d just feel better if you didn’t.”

He sighed. “So how am I supposed to help you?”

“What if …” Her gaze edged back. “What if you went to get Susanna? Maybe she could —”

“She and Betsy and the other ladies are all busy feeding the workers. Who will be back anytime.”

She winced, rubbing her lower leg.

“Just let me have a quick peek. I promise I won’t look at anything I shouldn’t. Unlike the first time we met.” He couldn’t resist.

Seeing her eyebrows shoot up, he smiled to let her know he was only joking. Mostly.

Biting her lower lip, she finally nodded.

He further loosened the laces to make the boots easier to slide off, but as he nudged the left shoe away from her stocking heel, she gasped and fell back, gripping handfuls of hay.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hurting for her. He hurt even worse when he saw the blood-soaked stocking.

She tried to sit up, but he put a hand to her shoulder.

“Just lie still, until I get the other one.”

Dread filling her eyes, she lay back.

The right boot was even harder to remove than the left, and by the time he was done, silent tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. They tore at him, as did his own thoughtlessness at not anticipating that she’d choose to walk all that way instead of asking for a buggy. Seeing the bloodied blisters on her feet caused other images to surface too — ones he’d already spent a lifetime burying since the end of the war.

Knowing what he needed to do next, he ached for her. “All right … That’s behind us.”

She wiped her eyes, hesitant to look at him. “Is it bad?”

Muted laughter and the conversation of stable hands returning from lunch drifted in, and Ridley grabbed her boots. “Change of plans.” Before she could protest, he handed her the boots, lifted her in his arms, and headed for the rear of the stable. As they left, she glanced back in the direction of the voices, understanding.

At the rear door, he spotted Jedediah and four others walking past. He waited for them to move from the line of sight before cutting across the meadow to a wooded path leading down to the creek. It didn’t bother him in the least to be seen with her like this. But he knew it would bother her.

“Are you all right?” he asked, once they reached the shade of the trees.

She nodded. “They still hurt, but having the boots off feels like
heaven by comparison.” She looked downward. “Thank you, Mr. Cooper. For your discretion, among other things.”

Gone was any trace of wounded pride, and he smiled — sorry for why she was in his arms, but not about her being there. “I’m nothing if not discreet. But …” He glanced at her, liking this perspective. “Don’t you think we can finally move past the Mr. Cooper,
Olivia
?”

She pursed her lips. An adorable act that challenged his former contentedness at merely holding her.

“Think about it, my dear,” he continued, mimicking the refined speech of what — he was certain — she would consider a proper Southern gentleman. “With all we’ve been through together, don’t you think we’ve at least achieved the modicum of acquaintanceship that would allow us the intimate privilege of addressing one another by our Christian names?”

Surprise lit her expression. “That was actually quite lovely. The way you said it, I mean.”

He stopped short. “Don’t make me drop you, Olivia.”

Her arms tightened around his neck. “Very well …
Ridley
. But I must admit, I’m impressed you know the word
modicum
.”

He feigned losing hold of her, and she squealed, gripping him tighter. Her eyes, the purest cornflower blue, were dark-rimmed and perceptive, and the slow-coming, shy but receptive smile subtly mirrored in her expression was all woman.

Ridley was fine until her gaze slid to his mouth and lingered. Then all he could think about was how her lips would feel against his and how sweet her kiss would taste. He hoped Betsy was right about the woman he’d set his sights on not standing a chance, even if given a running start. Because he wasn’t about to give Olivia Aberdeen any kind of advantage — fair or not.

“Where are we going?” she whispered.

Reaching for patience nature hadn’t given him, Ridley continued walking. “Just up ahead, to the creek. Then to see Rachel. She’ll know what to do for you.”

A little frown formed on the bridge of her nose. “Who’s Rachel?”

He chose not to answer that particular question, knowing some things were best experienced firsthand.

Olivia looked ahead at the cabin nestled at the edge of the woods, not that far from the mansion, then back at Ridley. Glad he was with her and grateful for his strong back, she still wrestled with embarrassment over what he’d just done for her at the creek. “I’m sorry you’ve had to carry me all this way.”

“I’m not, so don’t you be.”

She’d never been carried in a man’s arms like this. She’d expected to be on her wedding night, but Charles had simply led her into the bedroom and closed the door. Remembering what followed made her stomach knot tight. But she didn’t want to think about Charles right now.

Or ever again.

“Thank you for what you did,” she whispered.

His grip on her tightened. “For a minute there, I thought you were going to faint on me.”

“For a minute there, I thought I was too. I’m sure I would have … if you hadn’t kept talking.”

One side of his mouth edged up. “You were surprised I knew that many words, I could tell.”

She made sure he saw her smirk. “Perhaps I felt a
modicum
of surprise, yes.”

They laughed, the banter easing her embarrassment. While the creek water had stung the open blisters, it had helped loosen her stockings, stuck with dried blood to her feet. But the stinging paled in comparison to what followed. With Ridley’s back turned, she’d removed her stockings as far as her ankles. Then, with a tenderness she’d not imagined a man capable of possessing, he’d gently coerced the fabric free from the open wounds. Much to her shame, but with her gratitude.

She sneaked looks at him, wondering how much he knew about her circumstances — about
her
— and if one of the servants had told him about Charles, about what had happened. Because certainly, they knew. Yet no sooner had the thought surfaced, than she banished it. She did not want to think about that now.

As they drew closer to the cabin, her earlier concerns returned. “Are you certain she won’t mind us showing up unannounced?”

He nodded. “Rachel’s not that kind of person. Not only won’t she mind you coming …” He gave her a funny smile. “She probably already knows we’re on our way.”

She looked back at him. “You mean … she has the second sight?” She’d heard of people who got glimpses of the future before it happened.

“I wouldn’t say that. But the woman does know things. And she’s gifted at healing too. She doctors all the servants and the stable hands. She’s the one who’s been making the poultices for Seabird’s leg. That healed up with hardly a scar.”

The cabin was similar to the ones on the other side of the mansion, only larger. With apparently little regard given to their order, clay pots of all shapes and sizes dotted the front and side yards, their borders overflowing with herbs. Olivia recognized milk thistle and primrose, but none of the others.

Before she and Ridley even reached the front porch, the door opened, and a woman stood waiting inside, in the shadows. Almost as if she’d been expecting them.

“You bringing me a patient today, Mr. Cooper.” It wasn’t a question.

“Afternoon, Rachel.” Ridley nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I am. Rachel Norris, may I present —”

“I know who this is. Me and Missus Olivia Aberdeen, we go back a ways, you might say. We met each other before.”

Olivia squinted, wishing she could see the woman better, certain Rachel Norris was mistaken. As if complying with her unspoken request, the woman slowly stepped into the sunlight.

“You and me got a glimpse of each other awhile back, ma’am. I’m sure you ‘member. Though we ain’t had the pleasure of meetin’ face to face yet.”

Seeing the woman’s dark brown curls and skin the color of well-creamed coffee, Olivia felt a memory shake loose. Then with jarring recollection, she knew where she’d seen this woman before. From her bedroom, that first morning at Belle Meade. Rachel Norris had been wearing a cloak then, her hair wild and free. What Olivia hadn’t seen at that distance, however, was the woman’s startling blue eyes. Eyes that told an all-too-familiar story in a single glance. Eyes gently wreathed by time that seemed to be reading every one of her thoughts at that moment.

Olivia bowed her head, her face growing warm. “I … hope we’re not bothering you, ma’am,” she offered, feeling Ridley move his shoulder. Only then did she realize she was digging her nails into him.

“Why would you be sayin’ such a thing now, Missus Aberdeen? When Mr. Cooper already told you, you weren’t.” Rachel stepped to one side and gestured for them to enter.

Certain now that she didn’t want to go inside, Olivia had little choice when Ridley entered. But at least he was with her, and would stay, she felt sure.

A pungent aroma layered the cabin, at once sweet and savory. And overpowering. But no wonder, with dried clumps of herbs hanging from every rafter along with onions, beets, and corn — various fruits as well.

Olivia sneaked a look at their hostess as they passed. Rachel Norris wore a dress of dark green and brown, colors of the earth. Her curls were swept to the side today, held together by a thin leather strip. The woman was older than Olivia would have guessed from first sighting. Midway through her fifties, maybe even sixty. Despite her years, she was still beautiful, in an exotic sort of way, and graceful in the manner of a fox. Which Olivia thought seemed appropriate as she looked around, feeling as though she’d entered a den.

Rachel pointed to a worn settee by the cold hearth, and Ridley crossed the room, gently depositing Olivia there. She sat, boots in her lap, the soles of her feet tender on the plank-wood floor.

Rachel eyed her — namely, her bare feet — and Olivia arranged her skirt to cover them.

“You either a strong-headed woman, Missus Aberdeen, or you’s a fool. Which is it?”

Ridley laughed, then quickly cleared his throat. But Olivia could only stare, wishing her mouth wasn’t as dry as cotton. “I assure you, ma’am. I am
not
a fool.”

Rachel looked at her with those penetrating eyes. “I didn’t take you for one, Missus Aberdeen. Just wanted to hear it from you. Are you hungry? Either of you? I’ve got some soup simmering on the stove.”

Olivia nodded, skeptical about what might be in it but half starved. “Yes, please. That would be nice.”

Ridley motioned toward the door. “None for me, Rachel. Thank you. I need to get back to work. But I’ll return for you shortly, Mrs. Aberdeen.” He looked back at Rachel. “How long do you think —”

“Two hours, sir,” Rachel said. Then looked at Olivia again. “Make it three.” She walked him to the door.

Olivia leaned forward on the settee, trying none too discreetly to capture his attention, but he didn’t look at her. Not until the very last second, just as the door closed.

Then he winked. And smiled.