She was tired of the pitying glances the servants turned in her direction. The tsk, tsk from Cook. The sorrowful expression on her maid’s face. Viola’d had to depart her father’s estate, no matter how dreadful the weather was. She had been willing to ruin a good pair of shoes in the many mud puddles along her trail from the estate to Foldger’s Foals.
Did she think she could keep the financial failings of her business from the people she saw every day? Cook’s son had had to look for work at the local tavern, because Vi could not continue to pay his salary and afford him a place to live. Her maid had lost her latest love interest when the cook’s son had departed the day before, fearing he would return to his drinking and womanizing ways.
The worst part had been seeing Alexander off to London that very morning, escorted by Connor. The boy had pleaded with Vi not to send him away, to give him another chance. He’d done everything short of crying to convince her to change her mind. They hadn’t completed his lessons, he’d said. No lord would want a cripple working for him, he’d argued.
The anguish in his words nearly brought her to tears.
But he didn’t realize that she was sending him to London for his chance at a better life. His new employer, Lord Drake, was a fair man who had no reputation for mistreating his staff. She knew his stables were topnotch, since the man had purchased most of his stock from her.
Vi never wanted to see Alexander go, for fear the world would treat him poorly, but go he must. He must forge his own life and destiny; carve a path for himself. She wanted more for him than what she had. A life in the country was something she’d resigned herself to, but Alexander should have more: The chance to meet and marry a woman he loved; the chance to have a family.
The only thing she took comfort in was knowing he would work in a respectable home not far from her father’s townhouse on Dover Street. Alexander had left knowing that if any trouble arose, if he was ever mistreated, he could seek shelter at the townhouse of Lord Liperton.
Shortly after luncheon, Vi donned her warmest dress, complete with a lavender shawl to keep the rain from soaking her clear to the skin, and she’d escaped. She made her way through the vine-covered gate separating the two properties and hopped over another puddle.
The sound of hooves in the distance caught her attention. Viola watched as a lone horseman rode down the lane, beyond shouting distance. Had she missed a potential client? That was impossible. The last appointment of the season had passed the day before without anyone showing up. She thought about running after the retreating figure, waving her shawl to get the man’s attention, but what good would it do? Foldger’s Foals was officially a failure. All that was left was to tell her father.
Now, she not only had many people depending on her in London, but also a dozen young foals she needed to feed, with zero income with which to do it. The oats and hay would disappear with no money to purchase more.
Connor believed he could find buyers for the remaining foals during his trip to London. It was advantageous that the trip be used for not only settling Alexander into his new employment, but also might earn enough to keep her business from complete ruin—or so Connor said. In truth, she knew she could not employee Connor for much longer. Did he sense this himself? Viola was unsure if the man had anywhere else to go. A part of her hoped he looked into other employment while in town.
Viola resolved to write her father about him. The Duke of Liperton held many friends in London, and maybe one was in need of a loyal man of business.
Large, cold raindrops splattered her face, shaking her from where she stood, watching the man ride into the distance. If she did not seek shelter, she would catch her death of cold.
No, hailing the retreating horse man would solve nothing.