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A sigh that was a little too heavy to be anyone who was happy to see me made me step back.
Miles.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” I said, clasping my hands at my front. “We were just—”
“Queen Victoria and Prince Albert have escaped. They’re eating the unripe strawberries.” His blue eyes were focused intensely on me. “Nobody can find your aunt.”
I swallowed. “What do you mean nobody can find her? Have you spoken to Arthur?”
He stared at me. “Nobody can find your aunt,” he repeated. “If anyone could, it would be Mr. Fredericks.”
I stared at him.
“I’m not sure how I can repeat it in a simpler way, Lady Hastings.”
See? Grumpy. And rude.
Mostly.
“I understand what you were saying,” I said through gritted teeth. “But we were with her not twenty minutes ago. How could she possibly have disappeared?”
“Five hundred acres. Half a castle for a house. Not hard, is it?”
My back was ramrod straight, and I was just getting ready to inform him to watch his mouth before I shut him up when Alex placed his hand on my shoulder. “Is anyone looking for her?”
Miles glanced at him suspiciously, then nodded his head once.
“Excellent. Knowing her, she’s off in search of a cream cake since we ate them all. We’ll help you until she’s located.”
I looked down at my espadrille wedges. They were made for lovely afternoon walks amongst the roses.
They were not made for goat-wrangling.
“Just hold the gate, Gabi. I’ll handle the goats. How much more different than horses can they be?”
I swallowed, glancing at Miles who, judging by the way his lips were twitching, was as sceptical about this as I was. “Alex, are you sure about that?”
“Sure. It’ll be easy. Let’s go.”
***
Those were, in fact, Alex’s famous last words.
Goats were very different to horses.
While he was a talented equestrian, he’d never actually had anything to do with goats beyond feeding kids at a petting zoo, so the idea that he could control them was one of the best things I’d heard in a while.
Naturally, I had no intention of helping at all, except to shout very helpfully from where me and my nice shoes were leaning against the gate.
“You’re going the wrong way!” I called from where I was manning the gate.
“I can see that!” Alex shouted, standing with his legs askew and his arms out wide. He’d taken his shirt off ten minutes ago since he’d fallen in the fountain when Albert the goat had charged at him, and we were now gaining quite the crowd of spectators.
People were even videoing it.
My father was not going to be pleased.
“Go left!” Miles shouted, using a rake as the extension of his arm. “Stop Queen Victoria! She’s going on a rampage!”
I couldn’t help it.
I giggled.
“Stop laughing!” Alex shouted at me. “Can’t you help us?”
“No.” I laughed more. “This is the best.”
Miles shouted as Victoria barrelled toward him and he managed to bat her away with his plastic rake.
Even if my father wasn’t pleased this would end up on the internet within an hour, I was going to watch it over and over again.
Forever.
After a few more minutes of them attempting to herd the goats in and the crowd getting too big even for my amusement anymore, I sighed and decided it was time to take pity on them.
“Miles, how badly do you want this to be over?”
“Just help us!” he shouted at me, shooting me an angry look.
I held up my hands and walked away from the gate, toward the strawberry patch. A few wild alpine strawberries were now ripening, and I grabbed one of the pots that was full of the tiny berries.
“What are you doing?” Miles demanded when I returned. “Put my strawberries down!”
“Hey, Victoria!” I plucked off a small one and tossed it in her direction. She stopped and immediately gobbled up the tiny berry, then trotted over toward me. The single berry had done the job because the throw had gotten Albert’s attention, and I was able to bribe both of them through the huge, metal gate that was supposed to keep them in.
“Bloody hell,” Alex said, grabbing his shirt and following me through. “Couldn’t you have done that ten minutes ago?”
“I could have,” I replied. “But this was much more fun.” I continued dropping strawberries in a path behind me. I was feeling very Hansel and Gretel as we guided them back toward their field where they were supposed to be secure. “Oh, Alex, this is Miles. He’s the head gardener. Miles, this is my cousin, Alex, the Duke of Worcester.”
Miles nodded in his direction. “Nice to meet you.”
Wow.
At least he thought it was nice to meet someone.
Tosspot.
Two chains were wrapped around a thick metal post for this reason, and I grabbed them to attach them to the goats’ collars. “How did they even get out?”
