Ending 8 (Martha)

The farewell dinner had scarcely settled into its familiar rhythm before your attention began to wander.

Laughter echoed through the hall.

Wine flowed generously.

The week's final evening had taken on the relaxed atmosphere of old friends enjoying one another's company before parting ways.

Sir Edward was engaged in conversation with Lord Ashcombe and several neighbouring gentlemen.

For once, your absence would not immediately be noticed.

Across the room, you caught sight of Martha emerging from the service door carrying another tray of glasses.

She noticed you almost at once.

A grin spread across her face.

When she reached your end of the table, she slowed just enough to whisper,

"You look bored."

"I'm working."

"Barely."

She nodded towards the doorway behind her.

"Come with me."

"Now?"

"When else?"

"I can't just walk out."

"You absolutely can. Edward is missing as well. No one will notice."

She leaned a little closer.

"The question is whether you're brave enough."

Before you could answer, she disappeared back through the service door.

You remained where you were for another minute.

No one seemed to require your attention.

You quietly slipped away.

The servants' corridor beyond the dining room bustled with activity.

Martha was waiting for you beside the kitchen door, arms folded and wearing an expression of exaggerated impatience.

"Took you long enough."

"I had to make sure no one noticed."

"They didn't."

She reached out, caught your sleeve and started pulling you along the corridor.

"Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"You could just tell me."

"I could."

She looked back over her shoulder with a mischievous smile.

"But where would the fun be in that?"

The two of you hurried through the quieter parts of the house before slipping out into the cool evening air.

The sounds of the dinner faded almost immediately behind you.

Instead came the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional distant whinny from the stables.

Martha finally slowed her pace once the stable came into view.

She let go of your sleeve.

"There."

"I've been wanting to get away from that dining room all evening."

"You invited me just to escape work?"

She laughed.

"Oh, I escaped work."

Her eyes met yours.

"I invited you because I'd much rather spend my evening with you."

The stable lanterns cast a warm glow across the courtyard.

Somewhere inside, a horse stamped softly against the straw.

Martha took another step closer.

"So..."

She smiled.

"...shall we see whether the stables are as empty as I was hoping?"

The stable door creaked softly as you pulled it shut, the scent of hay and leather wrapping around you. Martha's hand was warm in yours, her breath quick with anticipation. But the muffled sounds from the far corner stopped you both cold.

There, half-hidden in the shadows of an empty stall, Sir Edward stood with his back against the wooden beam. Lady Charlotte kneeled before him, her chestnut hair pooled around her shoulders as she worked her lips along his length with practiced devotion. His head was tilted back, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping the beam hard enough to whiten his knuckles.

Martha's eyes went wide. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. Then, slowly, a wicked grin spread across her face.

Charlotte’s soft, wet sounds echoed in the quiet stable, punctuated by Sir Edward’s low, ragged groan. His hips moved in a slow, shallow rhythm against her mouth, his composure cracking just enough to betray how deeply he was lost in the moment.

Then his eyes flickered open, and met yours across the dim aisle.

He froze. A flush crept up his neck, but—rather than shame or shock—a slow, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He didn’t pull away from Charlotte, didn’t break the scene. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if inviting you both to stay.

Martha’s hand tightened on your arm. She leaned in, lips brushing your ear, her voice barely a whisper. “Well… looks like we aren’t the only ones sneaking off.”

Sir Edward's hand gently stilled in Charlotte's hair, his gaze never leaving yours. He gestured with his chin toward the empty stall opposite—hay piled deep, a saddle draped over the rail. His expression carried no judgment, only a calm, knowing amusement.

Charlotte glanced up, noticing the shift in his attention. Her lips curved into a quiet, mischievous smile before she returned to her work, deliberately slow, drawing a low, appreciative hum from her master.

Martha's fingers found your collar, tugging you gently toward the shadows of the adjacent stall. She kept her voice low, a playful glint in her eyes. "He's right… no sense in wasting a perfectly good moonlit night and a good spot." She looked back at you over her shoulder, the curve of her waist catching the dim lantern light. "We'll give each other a bit of a show."

The hay rustled softly as Martha tugged you down into the deep pile of the empty stall. The scent of dried grass and aged timber filled your senses as she settled onto your lap, her skirts pooling around her thighs. From across the aisle came the muffled, wet sounds of Charlotte's mouth and Sir Edward's low, rhythmic breathing.

Martha's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. "You've been staring at my neck all week, Thomas. I've felt it." Her hand trailed slowly down your chest, fingers finding the hem of your shirt. "Let me give you something worth waiting for."

From the opposite stall, a soft, muffled gasp escaped Charlotte. Sir Edward's voice came low, a pleasant rumble. "Easy, darling… let me last a bit longer."

Martha's grin widened. She rolled her hips just enough to send a shudder through you, her eyes never leaving yours. "See? He knows how to handle himself." She tilted her head toward the couple with a subtle nod. "And you? Think you know how to handle me?"

The hitching post creaked as Sir Edward braced himself. A strained breath escaped him, echoing softly through the stable. “Enough, darling—God, come here.”

Charlotte rose from her knees with a smile. In one fluid motion, he swept her up and turned her to face the stall post, lifting her skirts and pressing against her from behind. She bit her lip as she glanced toward your stall. Across the narrow aisle, Martha’s hand stilled on your shirt and she caught your gaze, her lips curling with a fire that made the night air feel warmer. She slid one hand under her own skirt, brushing her thigh.

Martha watched you with hooded eyes as she kicked off her boots, then slowly lifted her cotton skirts, revealing the curve of her calves, her knees, and then the pale expanse of her thighs. She let out a little gasp as her fingers worked between her legs, all while her gaze never left yours.

“Just you and me now, Thomas,” she breathed. “No dinner, no garden… just this.” She shifted, pulling her skirts higher as she climbed onto your lap, warm and eager. “Your hands have barely touched me all week. I intend to be properly acquainted before this night is done.”

The air in the stable was thick with the smell of hay and sweat. Across the aisle, Edward’s hands had slid around Charlotte’s waist, pulling her back against his chest while his breath caught in a low, shuddering groan. Their steady rhythm creaked the wooden post, and Charlotte’s whimper broke into a muffled cry.

Martha worked the buttons of your breeches with nimble fingers, her chest pressed to yours, the scent of soap and warm skin filling your senses. Her lips found the side of your jaw and trailed down to your throat.

"Look at them," she breathed, nodding toward the couple. "Highborn lord and lady, undone like the rest of us." She pulled your shirt over your head, then her own, her ripe breasts freed into the cool air, as she then grabbed your hand and pressed it between her thighs, slick and warm. "Now let me feel that patience of yours turn into something far less polite."

The stable air thickened with the sounds of pleasure. Across the aisle, Charlotte gasped and mewled, pinned against the post with her skirts bunched around her waist. Edward buried his groan into her shoulder, his hips driving with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Her fingers scrambled for grip on the splintered wood.

Martha’s skirts settled into a puddle around your joined hips as she braced her hands on your shoulders. The light of the lantern flickered across the curves of her chest as she lifted herself just enough to align your cock, then sank down with a sharp, satisfied gasp.

Her breath came out in uneven puffs against your lips. She pressed her brow to yours, her words barely audible over the squelch of your bodies. "…I thought about this all week, you know." A strained smile crossed her face. "Every time you walked past the kitchen. Every time you gave me that quiet little glance."

She lifted herself until you nearly slipped free, then sank down slow, her eyes locked on yours. "So don't you dare go slow on me now."

Across the aisle, Charlotte's back arched as Edward drove deeper with a sharp, powerful rhythm, the post creaking beneath them. Her moans came quick, breathless, as he neared his limit.

Martha bit her lower lip, eyes fluttering shut as she rocked on your lap. Her hands cupped your face, pulling you into a kiss that was less about finesse and more about claiming. Her hips moved faster, and her soft gasps painted the air between you. "You feel like you've been starving too, Thomas?" She breathed. "Like me."

Martha leaned back, supporting herself on your thighs, her head tilted, drinking in the sight of you beneath her.

The sound of Sir Edward's guttural groan cut through the air. He pulled out sharply, his hand gripping Charlotte's shoulder as he turned her, guiding her down to kneel before him.

Charlotte's eyes widened, then softened with understanding. She opened her mouth, and Edward's release spilled across her lips, her cheeks, her chin—hot ropes painting her fair skin. She held perfectly still, her eyes fluttering shut, breathing slowly as he emptied himself in thick, pulsing streams.

Then she opened her eyes and smiled up at him, the seed catching the lantern light.

Martha's own rhythm faltered for a moment. Her gaze was fixed across the aisle, wide with sheer heat. Her lips parted as she watched Charlotte lick a stripe from her palm, not wasting a single drop. A low, breathy sound escaped Martha's chest.

"Well." Martha’s voice was hoarse, a mix of awe and dirty pleasure. "That's not something you see from the kitchen window, I'll tell you that." She turned back to you, her hips grinding slow again, her heat tightening around you. Her eyes were dark with a new fire. "Looks like they've had their dessert. Let's give them a show of our own."

Edward slumped against the stall wall, catching his breath as Charlotte knelt before him. She rose slowly, wiping a stray smear of seed from her chin with a finger, then sucking it clean with a satisfied hum. She turned to face the two of you in the opposite stall, her chest still heaving.

Her gaze settled on Martha, now grinding slowly in your lap, and a low, delighted laugh escaped her. "Well. It seems the servants have been keeping secrets of their own." She leaned back against Edward, letting him watch with her as Martha rode you, her smile widening as she took in the slick sounds and the tension in your bodies.

Edward’s arm wrapped around Charlotte’s waist as he settled down with her into a bed of hay, his eyes fixed on you. He let out a low, appreciative hum. "Let them finish. I want to see how our quiet valet handles himself."

Martha’s cheeks burned red at the attention, but she gave a slow, brazen grin in return, rolling her hips in a deliberate circle, letting them see just how well you filled her. The wet sounds of her riding you filled the stable.

Martha's breath hitched as the weight of their gazes settled on you. The wet, rhythmic sound of her body meeting yours seemed to grow louder in the sudden quiet. Her thighs trembled, and her fingers dug into your shoulders.

"Oh—" She gasped, her head falling back as her hips stuttered, losing their rhythm. A low, keening moan escaped her as she clenched around you, her release washing over her in shuddering waves. "Thomas—Thomas, I'm—"

Her words dissolved into a broken cry as she rode out her peak, her body grinding against you in slow, desperate circles until she collapsed against your chest, breathing hard. Her face buried in your neck, her lips brushing your skin as she whispered, "I think they liked the show."

Across the aisle, a soft, appreciative chuckle. Charlotte was leaning against Edward, her head resting on his shoulder. Her eyes were half-lidded, but there was a glimmer of something playful in them as she watched Martha come down.

"Well," Charlotte said, her voice smooth and warm, "That was far more interesting than the hunting party." She tilted her head, studying Martha with new eyes. "You have excellent stamina, Miss Green. I'm impressed."

Martha gasped as you shifted beneath her, your hands gripping her hips and beginning to thrust up into her with a sudden, driven urgency. She cried out, her nails digging into your chest as she scrambled to hold on.

"Ah—! You—you weren't finished, then—" She let out a breathless, broken laugh, her head falling forward as her hair tumbled around her face. Her body, still trembling from her own release, began to tighten around you again, helpless under the new, relentless rhythm.

The hay rustled beneath you as you drove up into her, each thrust drawing a sharp, trembling gasp from her lips. "God, Thomas—" she whimpered, her voice cracking, catching on every movement. "You're going to— I can feel you—"

Across the aisle, the scene had grown quiet but watchful. Charlotte shifted against Edward, her hand sliding down his chest, tracing the line of his stomach while her eyes lingered on the rolling, straining shapes in the opposite stall.

"Oh, that valet of yours has a bit of a fire in him after all," she murmured, half to herself.

Edward made a low, amused sound. "So it seems."

Martha's breath was coming in sharp, rising pants. Her thighs began to shake as the new pressure built unbearably inside her. “Thomas—don't you dare stop—I want it—please—"

Your grip tightened on Martha's hips as the pressure peaked, your release surging deep inside her with a low, guttural groan. She cried out, her body convulsing around you, milking every pulse of your climax as she collapsed against your chest, trembling and breathless. Your cock pulsed as you shot your load deep inside her convulsing pussy.

For a long moment, the only sounds were the heavy breathing of the two of you, the rustle of hay, and the distant stamp of a horse in its stall.

Charlotte pushed herself off Edward's lap and stood, adjusting her skirts with practiced grace. The seed had dried on her chin and chest. She stepped closer to the edge of your stall, looking down at the tangled sight of Martha lying spent atop you.

"You two are quite the pair. Martha… I had no idea you had it in you." She laughed softly, a genuine warmth in it. "And Thomas—quiet valet with a strong, steady hand." She glanced back at Edward. "You're lucky to have him. Really."

You eased out of Martha with a slow, deliberate withdrawal, and a glistening thread of seed followed, spilling onto the hay beneath her. Martha let out a soft, lingering sigh, her thighs still trembling as she shifted, making no effort to hide the mess you'd left.

Charlotte's gaze dropped to the sight. Her lips parted slightly, and a quiet, appreciative hum escaped her. She took a step closer, boots brushing through the scattered straw, and looked down at the wet evidence on Martha's thighs.

"My, my." Her voice was low, almost admiring. "That's quite the gift you've left her, Thomas." She glanced up at you, a playful light in her blue eyes. "Tell me... is that something you save just for the kitchen maids, or do you treat all the staff so generously?"

Martha, still catching her breath, propped herself up on her elbows and shot Charlotte a sultry look. "That would be just me." She grinned, winking at you.

Behind Charlotte, Edward rose from the hay, adjusting his trousers with quiet composure. He crossed to the stall, his eyes meeting yours with a flicker of amusement. "Well. It appears my valet has hidden talents beyond pressing coats and polishing boots." He tilted his head, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I suppose that earns you a raise."

Charlotte laughed, soft and musical, and reached down to brush a strand of hay from Martha's hair. "I think we should let them rest a moment," she said, glancing at Edward.

MORNING [DAY 5]

The first rays of sunlight crept through the narrow windows of the hayloft.

You stirred slowly, becoming aware of the warmth pressed comfortably against your side.

Martha.

She was still asleep, one arm draped lazily across your chest, her auburn hair thoroughly undone after the previous evening.

For someone who always seemed to move at twice everyone else's pace, she looked remarkably peaceful.

A smile tugged at your lips.

Perhaps sensing you were awake, she opened one eye.

"Morning."

"Morning."

She stretched with a quiet groan before looking at you with a crooked grin.

"I've slept in stranger places."

You laughed.

She propped herself up on one elbow.

"So..."

"No regrets?"

"None."

"Good."

She leaned over and kissed you briefly.

"I'd have been terribly disappointed if you'd turned sensible overnight."

The two of you climbed down from the loft together.

The stable yard was already awake.

Grooms led horses towards waiting carriages while servants hurried between the buildings carrying luggage.

Kingsmere Hall was preparing to say farewell to another hunting party.

Outside the stable doors, Martha stopped.

"I'd better get back before someone starts asking awkward questions."

"You think they haven't already?"

She smirked.

"Oh, they definitely have."

She straightened her apron before taking a step closer.

"You know..."

"...next year's hunting party suddenly seems much more interesting than the last one."

"It does."

She poked a finger lightly against your chest.

"So don't spend the next year forgetting about me."

"I wouldn't dare."

"You'd better not."

Her grin softened.

"I'll be here."

"And if you happen to wander into the stables again..."

She shrugged innocently.

"...well..."

"...I doubt I'd complain."

You smiled.

"I'll remember that."

"I know you will."

Another servant called her name from across the yard.

She started walking backwards towards the kitchens.

"Safe journey, handsome. And don't keep me waiting until the following hunting party."

With one final grin, she disappeared around the corner.

You watched her go before turning towards the main house.

The warmth of the morning lingered.

But another thought steadily pushed its way to the front of your mind.

Nathaniel Blackwood.

The knowledge you carried.

If you just left Kingsmere Hall now...

...nothing would stop him from carrying out his plans.

You found yourself turning towards the front entrance instead of the waiting carriage.

There was one conversation you intended to have before leaving.

Lord Ashcombe deserved to know exactly what sort of man Nathaniel Blackwood truly was.

Lord Ashcombe received you in his study almost immediately.

He looked mildly surprised to see you standing alone.

"Mr. Thomas."

"My lord."

"I had expected you to be preparing for your journey."

"I was."

You hesitated.

"But there is something I believe you ought to know before I leave."

Lord Ashcombe's expression grew more serious.

"Please."

He motioned towards the chair opposite his desk.

You remained standing.

"I won't take much of your time."

He nodded.

"Go on."

You explained everything.

The conversation you had overheard.

The conclusions you had reached.

And finally...

...that Nathaniel Blackwood had never possessed the proof he had led Lord Ashcombe to believe.

"He was relying on fear."

You met Lord Ashcombe's eyes.

"Not evidence."

Silence settled over the room.

Lord Ashcombe slowly lowered himself into his chair.

For several moments he said nothing.

Then he let out a long breath.

"So..."

He looked you in the eyes.

"...I've spent all this time negotiating with a man who held little more than a threat."

"It would seem so, my lord."

He looked towards the window.

"I should have realised. He was always far too confident."

Another silence followed.

When he finally looked back at you, there was unmistakable gratitude in his expression.

"You've done my family a great service."

"I only thought you deserved to know."

"And because of that..."

He smiled faintly.

"...my plans have changed."

He opened one of the ledgers upon his desk.

"Mr. Blackwood had hoped to become involved in several of Kingsmere Hall's newest investments."

He closed the book again.

"That will no longer happen."

Instead, he reached for a fresh sheet of paper.

"There is another gentleman who has conducted himself with honesty throughout this gathering. Sir Edward Harrington."

His pen moved steadily across the page.

"I intend to invite him to become my partner in those ventures instead."

"The mills. The shipping concern. And several parcels of land."

He sanded the ink before folding the letter neatly.

"I trust his judgement. And, after this morning..."

He shook your hand.

"...I trust yours as well."

He handed you the sealed letter.

"I imagine Sir Edward will be surprised."

"I believe he will, my lord."

Lord Ashcombe smiled.

"I rather hope so."

As you accepted the letter, he added one final thought.

"Mr. Thomas."

"Yes, my lord?"

He inclined his head respectfully.

"I shall remember what you've done here."

You returned the gesture.

"Thank you, my lord."

With the letter safely tucked inside your coat, you left the study.

The waiting carriage stood only a short walk away.

And somewhere beside it...

...Sir Edward was waiting to hear some very unexpected news.

You found Sir Edward beside the waiting carriage, speaking with one of the coachmen while the final trunks were secured.

He excused himself as soon as he noticed you approaching.

"There you are."

"I've been looking for you, sir."

"And I for you."

You reached into your coat and produced Lord Ashcombe's sealed letter.

"He asked me to place this into your hands personally."

Edward accepted it with a puzzled expression.

"The Ashcombe seal. This can hardly be ordinary correspondence."

He broke the wax and unfolded the letter.

As he read, his expression slowly changed.

His eyebrows lifted.

Then came a quiet look of disbelief.

Finally, he smiled.

When he reached the end, he folded the letter carefully.

"I don't quite know what to say."

"You know what it's about, sir?"

"I do now."

He glanced once more at the letter.

"Lord Ashcombe wishes to make Harrington Manor a partner in several of his newest ventures."

"The mills. The shipping concern. And a considerable amount of land besides."

He laughed softly.

"I had expected to return home with pleasant memories. Not half a fortune."

His eyes settled on you.

"I suspect this has something to do with your visit to Lord Ashcombe."

You nodded.

"I thought he deserved to know the truth about Mr. Blackwood."

Edward regarded you silently for a moment.

Then he placed a hand upon your shoulder.

"You've done more for me than I can properly repay."

"I only did what I believed was right."

"And because of that..."

He smiled.

"...my responsibilities have grown considerably."

He glanced towards the carriage.

"So too must the responsibilities of those I trust."

You looked at him curiously.

"Sir?"

"When we return to Harrington Manor..."

"...I intend to promote you."

"You'll remain my valet when occasion demands it."

"But your duties will no longer end there."

He folded the letter and slipped it inside his coat.

"I'll need someone I trust to oversee parts of these new investments."

"To supervise tenants."

"Inspect properties."

"Manage accounts when I'm unable to."

He smiled warmly.

"I can think of no one better suited."

For a moment, you struggled to answer.

"Sir... that's more responsibility than I've ever imagined."

"I know. And I believe you're ready for it."

Edward glanced towards the servants gathered outside the house.

"There is one more matter."

He smiled knowingly.

"Miss Green."

Heat immediately rose to your face.

He laughed.

"If she wishes to leave Kingsmere Hall… then there will be a place for her at Harrington Manor."

You looked at him in surprise.

"Sir?"

"A capable household always has room for another capable pair of hands."

He paused before adding,

"And I'd much rather see the two of you together than separated by half the country."

The relief was immediate.

"Thank you, sir."

Edward smiled.

"Have you actually asked Miss Green whether she wishes to come?"

"No..."

You were already stepping backwards.

"...but I intend to."

Edward chuckled.

"I thought you might."

He waved a hand towards the house.

"Go on."

"I daresay you've kept her waiting long enough."

Without another word, you turned and hurried back across the courtyard.

If Martha had not already left for the kitchens you intended to find her before the carriages departed.

You found Martha exactly where you expected.

She was helping load the last few crates into one of the supply wagons, loudly informing two stable lads that they were making far more work of it than necessary.

She noticed you before you reached her.

"Back already? I thought Harrington was waiting."

"He is."

"Then why are you running around looking like the house is on fire?"

You stopped in front of her, still slightly out of breath.

"I've just spoken to Sir Edward."

That caught her attention.

"Oh?"

"He wants to offer you a position at Harrington Manor."

For the first time since you'd met her Martha was completely speechless.

"What?"

"He said there'll always be room for another capable pair of hands."

"And..."

You smiled.

"...I'd very much like it if you came with me."

She stared at you for several long moments.

"You mean that?"

"I do."

A grin slowly spread across her face.

"You've got terrible timing."

"I know."

"I've only just managed to train these idiots."

She nodded towards the stable lads.

One of them protested immediately.

"We're standing right here."

She looked back at you.

Then, without the slightest hesitation—

"Yes."

You blinked.

"Yes?"

"I'm coming."

She folded her arms.

"I've never been one for doing the sensible thing. And staying here suddenly sounds very sensible."

She stepped closer.

"So I'd much rather come with you."

Relief washed over you.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

She reached up, straightened your collar with a teasing smile, then gave it a firm tug.

"Just don't expect me to start behaving because we've changed counties."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Good."

She looked around the busy yard.

"I'll fetch my things."

"You've packed already?"

She shrugged.

"I travel light."

She leaned in just long enough to steal a quick kiss.

"And besides... I've got you to carry the heavy bits."

Before you could answer, she disappeared into the servants' quarters.

---

It was not long before the carriage stood ready to depart.

Martha climbed aboard carrying a single travelling case, tossing it inside as though it weighed nothing at all before dropping onto the seat beside you.

"Well."

She looked out of the window as Kingsmere Hall filled the view one last time.

"I suppose this is goodbye." you said.

"For now."

She smiled.

"We’ll be back next year."

"You sound very certain."

"I am."

She slipped her hand into yours.

"I've every intention of giving Lord Ashcombe another hunting party he'll never forget."

Across from you, Sir Edward glanced up from the newspaper he had been pretending to read.

"I sincerely hope," he said dryly, "that you're referring to your work."

Martha's innocent smile was entirely unconvincing.

"Of course I am, sir."

Edward looked at you.

"You appear to have acquired a dangerous woman."

"I've noticed."

Martha laughed and rested her head against your shoulder.

The carriage rolled through the gates of Kingsmere Hall and onto the road home.

Behind you lay one unforgettable week.

Ahead lay Harrington Manor.

A new position.

A new home.

And, judging by the woman smiling beside you...

...a life that promised never to be dull.