Royal Holiday (The Wedding Date, #4)(15)

She could just picture an entire room of people bowing to a person standing at the front of it. The whole idea felt ridiculous.

“Wow. That must be so strange to see. And to do.”

He nodded at her.

“You have no idea.”

He stopped and looked around.

“How in the world did you get me to say all of this, on royal land no less? I’ve kept a stone face about these matters for years. Thank goodness the bulk of the family doesn’t arrive for two more days, otherwise I’d be terrified someone would have heard that ill-considered rant about the institution that keeps me employed.” He peered into her eyes. “Do you have some sort of magic social worker powers, Ms. Forest?”

She looked straight back at him.

“Oh absolutely, I always have. Why did you think I went into social work in the first place?”

He laughed at her and walked on.

“Anyway, no more talk about You Know What for the next hour at least, please. I need to stay employed long enough to finish taking you around the stables.”

He bowed and offered her his arm, and she laughed and took it.

“I have a feeling, Mr. Hudson, that you’re remarkably good at your job, and it would take a great deal for you to lose it.”

He grinned at her.

“You may have a point there. Especially at this time of the year, and with Parliament in chaos once again, in any event,” he said. “But while I don’t plan to stay in this job for the rest of my working life, I do want any decision to leave it to be mine. God save the Queen, et cetera.” He flashed a smile at her, then looked away. “You don’t have much experience in cold weather, do you? You should be wearing a hat.”

She accepted his change of subject, even though she was dying to talk about all of this more.

“I have one in my pocket, but I’m not cold enough for it right now.”

That was definitely a lie. But she knew what hats did to her hair, and she was too vain to let this attractive man see her hair all over the place.

He looked delicious in his hat, though, especially when he smiled at her like that. She was very glad he’d put it on at the door of Sycamore Cottage.

After ten more minutes of walking and talking about many things that did not involve the British monarchy, they arrived at the Sandringham stables, aka—she held back a giggle—the Royal Stud.

“Wow.” They stopped outside the stables, and she took in just how big they were. From what she could tell from the outside, they were probably the size of a few city blocks at home.

“Wait until you see the inside,” Malcolm said.

They walked in the open door, and she stopped again to look around. The smell hit her all at once: animals and leather and hay, and yes, manure.

A man in knee-high boots walked toward them, and Malcolm let go of her arm as he reached out to shake his hand.

“Vivian, this is Tim. He’s the stable manager here and has been for years. Tim, this is Ms. Vivian Forest. This is all new to her.”

Tim shook Malcolm’s hand and turned to her. He had a ruddy, wrinkled face, salt-and-pepper hair, and wore a huge smile.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Forest, and welcome to the Sandringham stables. Ever ridden a horse?”

She laughed and shook her head.

“Oh definitely not. I’ve probably only ever been this close to a horse on a handful of occasions.”

He chuckled.

“Well, this is going to be a treat for you, now, isn’t it? Let’s go introduce you to Polly.”

Tim strode away without another word. Vivian glanced up at Malcolm. Now she was nervous about this whole excursion again. But he gave her a reassuring smile and tucked her arm in his once more. They followed Tim toward the other end of the . . . Was it one stable they were in? Were there multiple stables? Or was every small room that a horse was in called a stable? She didn’t know the answers to any of those questions. She should have asked Malcolm to clarify the terminology before they arrived.

They came out near a fenced-in area and followed Tim into another big building that housed horses; whether that was stables or a stable, she had no idea.

“Good afternoon, girl,” Tim said to a warm brown horse right near the entrance. “Aren’t you looking lovely today? Are you ready for some visitors?”

Vivian and Malcolm hovered behind him. The horses were so beautiful—sleek, shiny, and she loved seeing their tails twitch back and forth, and their warm, glossy manes.

They were also big.

Very big. Taller than both Malcolm and Tim big. And so strong. These weren’t animals to play with or coo over; these were animals that could kill you. She would honestly be very happy to hide behind Malcolm for the rest of her time in these stables and just look at the horses without being too close to them—or, God forbid, having to touch them.

“Now, we’re going to slip inside,” Tim said.

“Inside? Inside there? With the horse, too?”

Tim and Malcolm both laughed. She hadn’t been joking. Could they not see how big these horses were?

“Yes, we’re going to go inside her stall. Don’t worry, she’s very gentle and she loves people. This is why I thought we should start with Polly.”

Tim unhooked the door to the stall and walked inside first. Malcolm held out his arm for her to precede him. Oh God.