She paused beside a chestnut mare and immediately noticed a loose buckle on the saddle. "Who checked this?" she asked. Nobody sounded frightened; nobody rushed to make excuses. Yet several workers exchanged embarrassed glances.
Genevieve fixed the buckle herself. "Please inspect all riding equipment again before evening." Her tone remained calm, professional.
Nathaniel found himself staring—not because she was beautiful, though she certainly was, but because she looked nothing like the woman described in London's drawing rooms. She moved through the stable speaking with workers by name, asking questions, listening carefully to answers. A young stable boy accidentally dropped a brush while hurrying past. Instead of scolding him, she picked it up and handed it back.
"Slow down," she said gently. "You will work faster if you stop trying to rush."
The boy smiled sheepishly. "Yes, ma'am."
Nathaniel watched every interaction. Curiosity deepened with each passing minute.
Then Genevieve reached his section of the stable. Her gaze settled on him briefly. "You are new."
"Yes. Alex Reed." Nathaniel forced himself to sound casual. "Started this morning."
She nodded once. "Can you saddle Midnight?"
Nathaniel glanced toward the large black stallion occupying the far stall. Several workers nearby immediately looked uncomfortable. "The stallion? Yes, of course."
A faint smile touched her lips. "Good. Everyone else keeps trying to convince me he is difficult."
Nathaniel approached the horse. Midnight snorted once, but remained cooperative. Within minutes, the saddle was secure.
When he led the stallion into the courtyard, Genevieve looked genuinely impressed. "That was fast. He is not difficult?"
"Thank you." She accepted the reins.
Then something happened that immediately changed Nathaniel's opinion of Carter Estate. A young aristocratic visitor emerged from the manor steps: expensive clothing, perfect posture, arrogance practically radiating from him.
"There you are, Genevieve." His voice carried easily across the courtyard. "Everyone is looking for you."
Genevieve's expression cooled slightly. "I was working."
The man laughed again. Several nearby guests joined him. "One would think you were applying for employment."
More laughter followed. Nathaniel saw Genevieve's shoulders stiffen—only slightly; most people would not have noticed. He did.
"The horses need attention," she replied calmly.
"Surely that is what stable hands are for." The young man gestured toward Nathaniel and the others. "Unless you enjoy doing their jobs."
More laughter. Nobody intervened: not the guests, not the servants, not even the older gentleman standing near the manor entrance, whom Nathaniel assumed must be Lord Carter. Genevieve stood alone beneath dozens of watching eyes.
"Someone should ensure the work is done properly," she said.