Index > Ongoing Stories > Mr. Brooks Teaches Spencer About Horse Gear

Mr. Brooks Teaches Spencer About Horse Gear

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MyLadyTeri3 ((This is a collaboration between the players of Martin Brooks and Spencer Chichester. It has kissing and implied sex, but fades out well before that point.))


A disgruntled little frown has replaced Martin's usual easy smile as he surveys a bit of tack that some idiot had left out in the rain. The buckles were rusted at the very least and he wasn't sure how much damage had been done to the rest of it. Shaking his head, he pulls over a small wooden stool and sets to work polishing the buckles, whistling a cheerful tune to himself as he does. If he must clean it up the tune makes it go faster in any case.

Spencer has been walking around the estate grounds, in search of either Miss Upton or Lady Aurelia, though he is not sure what on earth he will say when he finds either. Unfortunately, he has seen neither them nor anyone else during his explorations. He hears whistling, and heads toward the sound, coming around a corner to see a servant sitting on a stool. Maybe he as seen something. "Good day, there!" He flashes a grin at the fellow, touches the brim of his top hat, and comes closer. "Have you happened to see any prime articles hereabout?" Today he is dressed in a silk green jacket with gray breeches and a silver paisley waistcoat.

Martin looks curiously at the man, rising to bow respectfully. He frowns thoughtfully. "This morning, there was a party of a few in the gardens, if I'm not mistaken, but I don't know if they're still about." He gestures at the tack he's been working on. "I've been dealing with this. Sorry to not be of more assistance." He's sincere, if slightly amused at the man's direct manner.

"The devil take it! No, there is no one there now. I gave the gardens a thorough going over." Spencer sighs and looks at the equipment the man gestures to. "What exactly is it you've been dealing with? Forgive me if I've cut up your peace with my scrape."

Martin looks surprised and shakes his head with a shrug. "No. Some blockhead left some tack out in the damp, that's all. I've been polishing the buckles in an effort to see if it can be saved." He grins a little. "Truth to tell, I welcome an interruption. My neck was getting stiff."

Spencer grins brightly. "Well in that case!" He pulls out his flask and uncaps it, taking a quick drink before offering it other fellow. "Can I interest you in wetting your whistle? Oh, my manners. Bad form. I am Lord Spencer Chichester." He touches the brim of his hat again at the man.

Martin looks even further surprised and bows deeply before accepting the flask after a moment's hesitation. "Martin Brooks, at your service, your Lordship. Much obliged." He takes a polite sip.

Spencer shakes his head. He shouldn't have used the title. Damnable habits. "No, please, the Lordship stuff isn't necessary. Let's just be two fellows sharing a drink. Tell me, Mr. Brooks, are you married?"

Martin makes a face and chokes slightly. "Me? Married? No, sir." He grins slightly sheepishly, realizing that might be taken the wrong way. "Not that there's anything wrong with marriage mind you, I just don't have time for a family. Yourself sir?"

Spencer laughs at his reaction. "Lawks! Good form, Mr. Brooks! Won't blame you if you're not looking to become a tenant for life." He winks. "I was, yes. Arranged affair by our parents. Childbirth did her in, however, a few weeks ago." He nods toward the flask and holds out his hand.

Martin grins a little at the man's words and wider at the wink, and passes the flask back automatically, then says, sincerely, his grin fading, "I'm sorry to hear it, your Lordship."

He takes a swig from the flask and shakes his head at the use of his title again, but he passes the flask back. There is a second stool just inside the door and he grabs it and takes a seat, his feet tired from his search of the gardens. "Faith, it feels good to sit down." He gestures for Mr. Brooks to sit as well, discreetly looking him over as he does so. "I assure you, I am not watery-headed about it. We were not close. That woman had tongue enough for two sets of teeth and had plenty to say about my man of the town tendencies."

Martin accepts the flask and sits obediently, observing the other man in return. He chuckles and says wickedly, "Didn't say what I was sorry about. Could have been your having an arranged match." He ducks his head a bit. "But that would have been poor form. I was expressing my condolences at your loss. Though I think it well--as though my opinion mattered--that you do not feel it over much. It seems better than the alternative to me."

Spencer laughs again. "So it's a dry boots you are. I like that." He looks over at the fellow. "Seems better than the alternative to me. It's why I came out here. I told everyone I needed privacy, rather than be stuck in Town and having to be in mourning. Such a dreadfully tedious business, this mourning. I would never wish it on you, good fellow that you are."

Martin shrugs a little. "My parents died a few years back, both with a bad illness. I mourned then. But life goes on. I suppose it's different when you don't need to support yourself on a day to day basis?" He immediately wonders if his question was too bold.

If it is too bold, Spencer doesn't seem to mind. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry to hear that. Don't mind me, making a cake of myself. I do that from time to time." He offers Mr. Brooks a sympathetic look. "My father slipped the wind too, shortly after I married. Bad heart."

"My condolences, your Lo-er, sir." He smiles, rolling his eyes at himself a bit and sipping again before handing the flask back.

He smiles at Mr. Brooks and takes the flask, drinking from it. He takes his top hat off and sets it on the ground next to him. "So what do you do, Mr. Brooks, when you're not doing..." he gestures vaguely to the tack. "That?"

"Oh, I'm a stable boy is all," he shrugs cheerfully. "I ready horses and take care of them. Lord FillintheBlank lets his horses out to pretty much anyone." He realizes belatedly that his tone had a slightly disapproving edge, and adds hastily, "Generous of him of course. I just make sure they're comfortable while they're in the stables."

"Yes, that is rather good-hearted of him. Sounds like it keeps things busier for you though. Hope you're not trotting too hard." He takes another small drink and hands the flask back over.

"Oh, I don't mind the work." Martin eyes the tack while sipping from the flask and says wryly, "Well, most of it. I wouldn't know what to do with myself with less of it. Probably make trouble. Or in much the same fashion as you were when you stopped by." He grins. "Any specific pretty ladies? I might give you a better idea if I knew their looks. Some come here regular to ride."

He grins back when Mr. Brooks mentions making trouble. "Specifically I was looking for Miss Upton or Lady Aurelia. I've had... encounters with both of them here before. Tempting armfuls. Do you know them?"

Martin blinks, but otherwise his expression remains mostly neutral. He feels a little surprise at Aurelia, at least, but no hurt. He had never thought himself more than a bit of fun for the ladies. "Yes, they've both been known to enjoy the gardens hereabouts," he says, a /touch/ distracted by his own thoughts.

Spencer watches him, quiet at first but finally says, "It would seem I've gone and fallen desperately in love with the both of them." He scratches at the back of his neck. "They are both quite charming. What's a poor fellow like me to do?" He chuckles.

Martin tilts his head and passes the flask back with a shrug. His hazel eyes twinkle a bit as he says with barely restrained amusement, "I couldn't possibly say, your Lordship."

Spencer narrows his eyes at Mr. Brooks and takes the flask but is also quick to smile. "Can you say what a fellow like you would do then?"

"Were I in love with two ladies? I am afraid I cannot sir, I have never been in love." He says it rather proudly.

Spencer looks impressed. "Never? You've, uh, danced the blanket hornpipe though, eh wot?"

Martin looks rather dumbstruck at being asked so directly by a lord, then snorts and shrugs with and easy grin. "Yes. Though honestly, what man would say no to that, truthful or not? I've just always heard love described as a rather binding thing, and I've never found someone I wanted to be bound to. I'm bound enough as it is to work." He shrugs again.

"Fair enough, no one would say no to that." He chuckles and takes a drink from the flask. "Perhaps I need a useful occupation, then I will not so easily bind myself to others. It seems I'm always dangling after someone or several someones at once. If I stay talking to you much longer, you could be next!" He laughs loudly and passes the flask back.

Martin gives him an odd look and sips from the flask, looking thoughtful and forgetting to answer for some time. When he does, it is about something entirely different. "I'm afraid that stool hasn't been sanded in a while. Your pants are rather likely to get snagged on it. I suggest standing up carefully. If I had known I was to have a visitor I would have worked on that instead of this." He nods to the tack, passing back the flask.

Spencer takes the flask back and, finding it empty, puts it back in his jacket. He is pleasantly tipsy now though, thanks to its contents. "Is that your way of telling me to shove off then?" He asks this good-naturedly, not bothered in the least.

Martin blinks and blushes faintly. "Not at all, your Lordship," he says, also /a little/ tipsy, though he probably drank somewhat less. "I was just noting." Specifically the quality of the clothes and the man wearing them, but that was less than appropriate to note aloud. "As long as you're around, I have an excuse not to be doing my work." He grins and winks.

Spencer smiles at the blush and smiles even wider at the wink. "Maybe I should hang about all day then. Give you a free day. I'm sure you deserve it, diligent fellow like yourself."

Martin barks a laugh at that. "Oh, yes. Clearly I am very diligent--my polishing this as we talk is entirely impossible and I talk with you only out of good manners. I pine to get back to polishing."

Spencer attempts, half-heartedly, to keep a straight face. "No, no, you're terribly diligent. Sadly, I am a very high in the instep sort of lord and demanded your complete attention. Made you explain all the different...horse gear... and show me all the horses and whatnot. Threatened to be in quite a bad skin about it if you didn't. You'd no choice, when you come right down to it."

Martin grins, failing entirely in an attempt to hide it. "Horse gear, is it? No, I'm afraid you won't fool anyone with that tale, sir. Are you fond of riding at all?" He is sincerely curious.

"I couldn't say. I don't have much cause to do it in Town. Everything is carriages and drivers there, eh wot? Maybe if you taught me some easy terms my bouncer could be more convincing." Spencer is thoroughly delighted by Mr. Brooks. Quite a welcome change from the ladies. Easy on the eyes, too.

Martin nods, looking thoughtful. "Well," he chuckles, "This here is a bridle . . . did you know that one?" He grins at the lord, feeling at ease, despite the oddness of the situation and the difference in their social standing.

"Bridle? No. Sounds like a marriage term. What does it do?" If Spencer is embarrassed he doesn't know this, he doesn't look it. He grins back and leans forward to get a better look at the thing.

Martin stares at him, a bit dumbfounded. "You're serious?" He shakes his head. "Alright, bridle, not bridal and it goes over the horse’s head to attach to the reins so you can control it."

"Hmm." Spencer's hands feel empty and so he retrieves his flask back out of his jacket pocket, just so he has something to fiddle with. "Bridle goes on the head and attaches to reins. That's how you steer it. Alright that seems easy enough--I'll be much more convincing now!" He chuckles. "Oh, but what if the horse is crusty and won't listen? What do you do then?"

"Bit and spurs," Martin shrugs. "But Lord FillintheBlank's mounts are gentle for the most part. You use a bit too much and the horse's mouth gets hard. And he won't care much for being ridden either."

Spencer frowns. "Forgive me for being all-a-mort, but the horse's...mouth... gets hard?"

Martin shrugs again, running a hand through his dark curls. "It's a saying. I don't know if their mouth actually gets hard. They won't respond to the bit anymore is all it means. You'll have to drag the reins to get them to turn or stop. Bad for the horse and bad for the rider."

"Faith, seems there is more to it than I thought. Riding, I mean. Good thing I've you to teach me then." Spencer watches Mr. Brooks run a hand through his hair and turns the flask over in his own hands.

Martin flashes him a grin, turning the rusted bridle over, mirroring Spencer's fiddling with the flask. "Honestly though, you have ridden a horse before, haven't you? I have no notion how gentry are taught, but if you learned none of this, it explains a good deal." His hazel eyes are thoughtful as he observes the lord.

"As a boy, yes. I was taught..." Spencer waves one hand vaguely. "...something. I hardly remember it all now. You just get on the horse and make it do what you want. Somehow." He laughs at himself and shakes his head, but maintains eye contact with the other man. "Lawks! You must think my upper floor is completely unfurnished, Mr. Brooks."

Martin's lips quirk with wry amusement. "Well, we have been discussing the only thing I know much about. I'm sure I'd come across the same way on any other topic."

"If we are to stick to those subjects that I'm an old dog at, I'm afraid we're relegated to either blasted parliamentary procedures or causing mischief. And the former is not worth a toss outside the House of Lords when you get right down to it." Spencer grins at Mr. Brooks. "Far less diverting as well."

Martin can't help smirking in response to the lord's infectious smile. "And the latter?" He asks, hazel eyes bright with amusement.

"Hmm..." Spencer glances around. Really he should continue his search for either Miss Upton or Lady Aurelia. Things were already a giant mess with them and the longer he stayed here with Mr. Brooks the messier they would become. "Maybe you should show me the horses."

"As you say your lordship. Mind the stool. I'll sand it tomorrow." He bounces to his feet and bows, grinning. "This way."

Spencer /had/ forgotten about the stool and gets up slowly, not sure how exactly he should rise to avoid getting snagged on it. He runs his hands over the back of his pants once standing, doesn't feel anything, and figures he must have been successful. He bends over to retrieve his hat off the ground and then returns the grin to Mr. Brooks, following him into the stables.

Martin smiles over his shoulder, his eyes still adjusting to the lower light. He goes over to one of the stalls, moving by practice rather than sight, and clicks his tongue to call over the pretty brown, thoroughbred mare. She snorts and trots over. "Your Lordship, this is River. She's a sweet thing, though a lady's horse--trained for sidesaddle and not up to men's weight."

Spencer moves a little slower, not used to the space, but his eyes finally adjust and he stands next to Mr. Brooks. "Handsome animal, certainly," he replies, though he is looking at the fellow instead of the horse.

Martin strokes her nose, oblivious to Spencer's gaze. "Mm, good-tempered too. I have a few carrots somewhere around here, if you want her to be your friend forever," he chuckles.

Spencer looks away from Mr. Brooks and glances around for the carrots, not immediately seeing them in the dim light. "Charming idea, Mr. Brooks. If only all friendships were so easily come by, eh wot?"

Martin goes over to a shelf and takes down some rather dead looking carrots. He grins and shrugs. "Why not?" He eyes the dirty carrots and Spencer's immaculate clothing. "Though um . . . I don't know if you'll want these. There's a reason they weren't considered fit for the table."

Spencer frowns down at his own clothing. He spies a hook on the wall by the shelves and shrugs out of his jacket, hanging it up before turning to the carrots. There, at least that would be fine. "I wouldn't be much good at causing mischief if I was white-livered about getting dirty." He looks at Mr. Brooks and holds his hand out for one of the carrots.

Martin grins again, clearly approving this and passes him one. "These are small enough that you'll just want to offer it in the palm of your hand, like so. Else she might nip you by accident." He breaks one of the carrots into neat thirds and holds out his palm to the mare. She snuffles contentedly over his hand, the carrot disappearing as she does.

Both of Spencer's eyebrows go up at that. "/Nip/ me? I assume it's less enjoyable than when a person does it..." He watches Mr. Brooks and mimics his actions--breaking the carrot into thirds, though not as neat--and tries to keep his palm as flat as possible as he offers the treat to the horse.

Martin laughs. "/Significantly/ less so, yes. There you've got it." The horse snorts happily and munches up the carrots.

Spencer withdraws his hand as soon as the horse has taken the carrots. "Faith, that feels strange." He dusts his hand off together and regards the horse in front of him skeptically. "So how do you know if it likes you or not?"

Martin laughs. "She likes you. Don't you girl?" He rubs her nose and ears. The horse huffs and rubs her nose against Martin's shoulder.

Spencer is not entirely convinced, but grins and watches Mr. Brooks as he rubs the horse. "It's clear she likes you."

"Of course she does," he laughs again. "I feed her and take the tack off. Some are easy to please." He looks thoughtfully at the other man. "So what do you do with your days if not riding? Forgive me if I am too bold, but you don't seem very bookish and you can't spend /all/ your days looking for tempting armfuls, can you?" He flashes another teasing grin at Spencer.

Spencer laughs and briefly touches Mr. Brooks on the arm in a good-natured way but wanting to see how the man reacts. "Good form, Mr. Brooks! I will take your statement of not being bookish as a compliment. I do spend more time than is wise with tempting armfuls, yes. Too much blasted fun not to. But I greatly enjoy getting to know thoroughly good chaps as well. Drinks and pipes at the club, for instance. Or playing at cards or gambling. Any of those things interest you?"

Martin shrugs, with a grin, not reacting much to the touch. "I like drinking well enough, as you saw, and a few card games." He eyes the man, hazel eyes bright with amusement. "Is it only /thoroughly/ good chaps, you enjoy getting to know?"

Spencer smiles and takes a step closer. "No, not only thoroughly good chaps. I'm hardly good myself. But I am thoroughly loose in the haft. I think it's only good form that whatever it is that you /do/ do, you do it thoroughly."

"That's more goodly thorough chaps, then, isn't it?" Martin leans casually against the stall door, grinning broadly. "Is that your defining characteristic, then, your Lordship?"

"Lawks! Goodly thorough. I like that." Spencer chuckles and steps much closer to Mr. Brooks. "I suppose that could be a way to describe me; it might be more for others to say than I." He leans forward, pausing close to Mr. Brooks' face, then kisses him.

Martin watches Spencer with wide hazel eyes as he comes nearer. He hesitates, unsure where to put his hands, hesitant to touch the other man's hair or clothing. He settles for pressing them back against the stall door, and kissing back with restrained enthusiasm.

Spencer happily leans into Mr. Brooks and reaches down for his hands, pulling them up and putting them on his sides as he couldn't care less about getting dirty in this particular moment. Silas was wrong about their being no good options for men around. Mr. Brooks was a very good option, as far as Spencer was concerned.

Martin chuckles into the kiss at this and adjusts his position, wrapping his arms securely around the other man, running his fingers lightly through the fringe of hair at the nape of his neck, enjoying the kiss.

Spencer brings one hand between them, working on undoing the buttons of Mr. Brooks waistcoat while the other hand goes up to into his hair, tangling in the curls.

Martin makes a soft noise of surprise, pulling away just enough to murmur, "Already in love with two ladies, aren't you? Will this complicate things? I'm a rather simple fellow."

Spencer blushes and looks from Mr. Brooks' eyes to his mouth then back to his eyes. "What happens between two men has very little to do with them, I should think. And we can keep it simple. If you like this, we keep doing it. If you don't, we stop. See? Simple."

"I do," Martin admits sheepishly. "Like it, that is." Giving up on caution, he adjusts their embrace again and kisses the other man deeply.

Spencer lets out a quiet noise of approval and returns to undoing the buttons on Mr. Brooks' waistcoat and slides his hand under it, along Mr. Brooks' side. He has missed being with a man very much and quickly grows excited, his kisses getting hungrier.

Martin is slightly startled by the older man's intensity, but returns the kisses with pleasure and enthusiasm. He makes a soft noise at the caress and his hands move hesitantly to undo Spencer's waistcoat in return.

Spencer pulls at the other man's shirt, untucking it from his breeches, so that he can have contact with skin. He pulls away, only slightly and only enough to ask. "Is there somewhere we can go? Are we safe here?"

Martin is rather reluctant to allow him to pull away, but gives the questions serious thought. "No. There's those who will come here to borrow horses," he admits reluctantly. "The woods?"

Spencer is at first disheartened that they are not safe there, but perks up at the mention of the woods. He runs his hands over Mr. Brooks' chest and gives a little nod, placing kisses along the man's jawline. "The woods. Huzzah."

Martin gives him a shaky grin, adjusting his clothing and buttoning his waistcoat with trembling fingers. "This way then." He exits the stable, shading his eyes against the light and looking around to make sure they are not observed.

Spencer fixes the buttons that Mr. Brooks had started to undo and grabs his jacket from its hook. He quickly puts it back on as he follows the other fellow out of the stables, walking quickly. He carries his top hat, not caring enough to bother with it. He hasn't felt this excited in quite some time and watches Mr. Brooks as they walk, grinning widely.

Martin blushes a little at his observation as they reach the trees and brush leading towards the lake and he moves a few branches aside, revealing a rather overgrown path. He inclines his head to Spencer, indicating he should go through first.

Spencer passes by close to Mr. Brooks, enough to brush lightly against him as he passes, and dodges the branches, ducking a little to get around them and get onto the path. He isn't sure where he's going and he looks back over his shoulder a few times.

Martin grins shyly and catches him up, lacing their fingers together and pulling him along the (barely a) trail. "This way," he says cheerfully.

Spencer blushes when Mr. Brooks takes his hand but nods and eagerly follows him.

They reach a small glade, carpeted with soft grass and Martin turns to face Spencer, reaching up to pick twigs and leaves out of his hair. "Sorry if it's a bit damp. We're near the river."

Spencer steps up against Mr. Brooks and grins. "Private is all I care about, eh wot?" He pulls a leaf out of the other fellow's hair and runs his hand through it, enjoying the feel, before leaning in to kiss him again.

Martin makes a soft sound of pleasure and wraps his arms securely around the other man, passionately returning the kiss.

Spencer gets lost in the feeling of the other man's mouth against his own, the feel of his body against the other, and starts undoing Mr. Brooks' buttons once again. He moves toward the ground as his fingers work, pulling at Mr. Brooks with him--dampness be damned.

Martin is hesitant, but entirely willing, worries about being caught away from his work, or any of the more serious dangers of this encounter quickly being driven from his mind.

---Fade to Black---

A while later, Spencer rolls onto his back and looks up at the trees overhead, waiting for his heart rate to return to normal. "Lawks! Now /that/, Mr. Brooks, was a good game of backgammon if I ever saw one." He looks over at the other man and grins. "I don't suppose I might just call you Martin now?"

Martin is still quite flushed and laughs rather breathlessly. "Not at all, your Lordship."

Spencer rolls his eyes in mock exasperation. "Just Spencer, please. No more of this Lordship cock and bull. Given the circumstance, it's just not on."

Martin laughs again. "I just did it to see you exasperated. It's endearing." He smirks.

Spencer laughs as well and lightly smacks Martin in the arm. "I find /you/ rather endearing." He looks over at him, feeling that familiar tug at his heart. But this is a fellow, and talking about heart-tuggings didn't exactly serve the biggest purpose. "When can I see you again?"

Martin rolls onto his elbow, grinning at the other man. "You know if I wasn't familiar with both the ladies you had mentioned, I'd begin to doubt their existence," he teases lightly. His expression grows more serious. "Not often, I'm afraid. Not during the day. If someone has found that tack and me not with it, I'll really be in the basket."

"Neither of the ladies can do what you can do." Spencer turns toward Martin as well and gives him a quick kiss. He frowns at the 'not often' part. "Do you need me to say something? I will. That I needed your help with something. A riding lesson maybe, eh wot?" He grins at this.

"They're not bad, though," Martin says casually, then flushes. Perhaps it was not the best or wisest course to admit he had been intimate with not one but /both/ of the ladies Spencer claimed to have feelings for. (He had learned Miss Upton's name after overhearing a greeting between her and Mr. Wilson at the stables.) He smiles uncertainly at the other man, unsure of himself. "You'd want a groom for that," he says earnestly.

Spencer looks instantly intrigued and his eyes light up. "They're 'not bad'? What is this?" He grins widely, not bothered in the slightest. "You've had them too, then?"

Martin looks away, obviously embarrassed. "Shouldn't have said anything about it. Not good form, I would think, and no I haven't actually."

Spencer grins. "You're devilishly handsome all colored up like that." He leans over and kisses Martin along the jaw. "What /did/ you do then? I won't get my back up about it, honest. I've never been the type to feel yellow."

Martin smiles hesitantly at him, relaxing a little at the kisses, though his hazel eyes, usually open and cheerful are still guarded. "Not much more than smacks on the neb. I don't go further with the ladies and for the most part they /wouldn't/ go further with me." He sounds matter of fact, not bitter.

"Faith, I feel sorry for all three of you. None of you know what you're missing!" Spencer chuckles and pokes Martin in the chest, trying to get him to lighten up.

Martin shrugs with a small smile and rises, brushing himself off and fixing his state of dress. "I should be getting back."

Spencer watches him fix his clothes with a grin. "Fair enough. I should go back with you, at least partly, so I'm not caught wandering and lost." He stands up and gets himself situated before grabbing his top hat. "So, assuming it is nighttime, and you've no duties, I find you where?"

Martin shakes his head a little and says quietly, "I'm not sure." He runs a hand through his dark curls, picking out bits of grass and other plant matter.

Spencer frowns at that, but helps Martin clean himself up, taking extra care to brush off the front and back of his breeches just for good measure. "Is /that/ your way of saying shove off?"

Martin laughs, but looks uncomfortable. "I . . . I'm sorry. I got carried away. I told you, I'm simple. This," he gestures at the grass, ". . . This was nice, but it gets complicated." He looks a little pleadingly at the older man. It's a delicate position after all. Not that he thinks so badly of Spencer. Just uncomfortably aware of their social disparity.

Spencer hesitates a moment but quickly puts on a smile so it isn't evident how hurt he feels. "Right. Complicated. You did say that. I certainly don't wish to make a mull of things. More than I have already." He looks around to see if he can figure out which way to go, but he can't. He was not paying any attention to his surroundings on the way here. He looks back at Martin. "Well, Mr. Brooks, a right trump you've been! If you'd be so good as to show me the way out, I'll leave you to it."

"Right," Martin says awkwardly, running a hand through his curls again, and absently reaching out to pluck grass from Spencer's hair. "Sorry," he says a bit miserably. "This way." He leads the way out of the glade and back to the edge of the trees behind the estate.

They clear the trees and Spencer looks around, happy, at least, to know his whereabouts. "Cracking! Good luck with your bridle. And if you come into any scrapes on my account, I will vouch for you." How would he know though? "Um, you can send word and let me know. I'm staying with my friend Alexander Stanton on Low Street." He puts his hat onto his head and touches the brim of it. "Tally-ho!" He tries to not feel too awkward as he starts off past the estate, no longer wanting to run into either of the two ladies and just heading home. Well, not /home/. The place where he is staying.

"Thank you," Martin says, sounding rather dubious. "Good day, sir." He turns and walks briskly back in the direction of the stables.
Posted 2 months ago

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