Page 40 of Deceiving an Earl
Philip spun around to face a lad a few years younger than him, but taller and wider, with a nasty smirk.
“And who are you?” Philip asked.
“Tom Potter.”
Philip looked him up and down. “It doesn’t appear that you have a broken leg.” Had he been lied to by Armbruster and Potter?
“I ain’t got a broken leg. That’s my oldest brother, David. I’m Tom. I was sent to watch over ye.” His eyes twinkled, and it appeared that he was quite pleased with having been given the task of looking over Philip.
Philip’s nose went up in the air. “I don’t need looking after, but thank you.”
Tom grinned. “I don’t see ye workin’. Standin’ around won’t get those stalls mucked out.”
“I’m not mucking out stalls,” Philip said. “I was just telling your father that I will be glad to pay someone to come do the job.”
Tom’s smile faded, and he looked Philip up and down, taking in the ruined shoes, the trousers with mud splattered on them, and the clean coat and shirt.
“Afraid ye can’t do it?” he asked.
“I can do it. I just don’t need to do it.”
Tom tilted his head to the back and side, looking at Philip through half-lowered lids. “Ye think ye’re better than us, then.”
“I didn’t say that.” Philip was beginning to worry. He’d come across mean boys before. There were times that Eton was more of a survival of the fittest than anything. He’d been in his fair share of fights, but Tom was different. Tom seemed feral.
“Then start mucking, rich boy.”
Philip’s shoulders went back. It was one thing to be called names by your peers in school, but being ridiculed by the son of a pig farmer was unacceptable.
“I don’t take orders from you,” Philip said.
Quick as lightning Tom shoved Philip. It was so unexpected that Philip hadn’t had time to brace himself, and he fell in the mud with a large splat. Muck flew everywhere. On his clothes, in his mouth and eyes, and soaking through the seat of his trousers.
Philip scrambled to his feet, slipping and sliding, making himself look like a fool. That only added to his fury as he had to grab hold of the fence post and hoist himself up.
Tom was laughing and Philip swung at him, but Tom ducked and Philip spun around.
Before he knew it Tom barreled at him, his lowered head plowing into Philip’s stomach and forcing the air out of him. He went down into the mud again, but he wasn’t about to let the son of a pig farmer get the best of him.
They rolled in the mud and the pig shite while the sows squealed and the piglets ran about in terror.
Philip felt himself being raised from the ground, Tom falling away from him.
He looked up into the furious eyes of Mr. Potter, who had a boy in each hand. The man may have appeared frail and in pain, but he was anything but.
He shook both boys. “Enough of this nonsense.” He released the boys and both staggered to the side, breathing hard with bloody lips and noses.
Philip looked down at his ruined clothes. He could barely tell what color they had been.
“Get to mucking.” Mr. Potter thrust the shovel back in Philip’s hand, and he took it. “You.” He pointed to Tom. “Get back to the barn and shovel that feed.”
When Tom sauntered off with another smirk, Potter turned to Philip and eyed him. “I knew yer father well. He came here often, especially as a young lad. Would help wherever anyone needed help. He’d be ashamed of you right now.”
Potter walked off and Philip didn’t know if he tasted pig shit in his mouth or mortification.
Chapter Eleven
For Ellen the day was endless. She had no idea where Oliver had taken her son or what they were doing. She kept reminding herself that she had asked for Oliver’s help and she must trust him.
