Rhys had had any idea of the kind of strict discipline and watchful eye he’d be under while pretending to be a servant, he might not have been so quick to join the ‘experiment’ (as Clayton liked to call it). But he’d made his bet, and he never backed down from a bet, Mrs. Cotswold or no. Besides, the kind of money Rhys had riding on this particular bet meant he couldn’t back down even if Medusa herself was employed as Clayton’s housekeeper.
They’d even named their little experiment. The Footmen’s Club. Kendall had come up with it. It had a nice ring to it, only they weren’t all going to be footmen. While being fitted for their livery back in London, Rhys had announced to his friends that he intended to be a groomsman instead. Kendall had initially balked at the idea, until Bell had informed him that he intended to be a valet. Apparently, valeting would put the marquess in closer proximity to the men he needed to watch.
If Bell could be a valet, then Rhys could be a groomsman. Kendall had grudgingly agreed. Besides, it was only sporting of them to allow Rhys to try his hand at service in the one role he might actually be good at. Horses and stables had long been his favorite place at any estate. And Clayton’s stables were particularly fine.
Rhys had had enough of Mrs. Cotswold’s harping, however, and finally escaped to the stables to work with his direct supervisor, one Mr. Hereford, the stablemaster.
Rhys was wandering around, wearing his new livery, carrying the bag in which he’d stuffed his clothing and a few necessities, when Mr. Hereford found him.
“Mr. Worthy, I presume?” The older man stepped forward and offered a handshake.
“That’s the name for the moment,” Rhys replied with a chuckle, offering his own hand.
He liked the stablemaster immediately. Middle-aged with sparkling blue eyes and a ready smile, Mr. Hereford looked as if he’d give Rhys far less grief than Mrs. Cotswold. He’d clearly chosen the correct employment.
“I take it Lord Clayton has informed you of my intentions?” Rhys asked next.
Mr. Hereford nodded. “He did, indeed, Yer Grace.”
“No. No, there will be none of that,” Rhys replied, shaking his head. “I’m to be Mr. Worthy and no one else while I’m here. No milord, no Your Grace, and no mentions of dukedoms, if you please.”
“Of course, of course, Yer Gra—” Mr. Hereford caught himself and smiled. “Mr. Worthy.”
“It’ll be especially important when any of the guests are in the stables. And some of them may know who I am so if I’m scarce for a bit, you’ll know why.”
“Understood,” Mr. Hereford replied.
“But I want you to treat me like any other groomsman. I will do my chores and help out around here like everyone else. In fact, I insist upon it.”
“Yes, my lor—” Another smile from Mr. Hereford.
Rhys hoisted the bag he carried on his back. “I didn’t even bring a trunk. Just this bag with a few belongings. If you’ll be so kind as to point me to where I’ll sleep, I’ll unpack.”
“Ye’re gonna sleep out ‘ere, my lo— Mr. Worthy?” the stablemaster asked, looking more than a bit confused.
“Yes, of course,” Rhys replied. “Where do the other stablehands sleep?”
Mr. Hereford pointed to staircase. “Up there. Any open berth will do, I suppose.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hereford. I’ll be back momentarily, and you may show me what chores I should expect to be responsible for.”
Mr. Hereford shook his head and turned to leave. But before Rhys had a chance to make it to the staircase, he turned back to look at him. “May I ask ye one more question, Yer Grace? Er, Mr. Worthy?”
“Of course,” Rhys replied.
“Lord Clayton didn’t say and the rest of us, we’re dying ta know. Why exactly are ye doing this?”
“Can’t you guess, Mr. Hereford?” Rhys responded with a laugh. “We have a bet. A bet for quite a bit of money.”
Mr. Hereford shook his head again and laughed. “Ye’re right. I should ‘ave guessed.”
“Now may I ask you a question?” Rhys replied.
“O’ course,” the stablemaster responded amiably.
“Do many of the guests come out to the stables when you have this house party? Particularly the debutantes?”
“I wouldn’t say many,” Mr. Hereford replied, tapping a finger on his chin. “But there’s usually one or two wot loves horses more than tea and gossip.”
Rhys nodded and turned to climb up the steps. He knew a lady like that, but surely, she wouldn’t be at this house party. At