“Yes, good idea, Adrian. Please see to it.” The butler went into his office.
Adrian saw to his duties about the house. As Mr. Reeves had expected, the gentlemen spent the day inside playing cards and drinking. The ladies joined them for some of the card games when they were not gossiping over tea.
He did his best not to look in Venetia’s direction, but he could feel her gaze drifting toward him a little too often. It was impossible to ignore her—she was so beautiful it hurt. And her beauty had very little to do with her fair hair or brilliant brown eyes. It was the way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she spoke of the things she loved and was interested in. She was beautiful, and he would have given her the world if he’d been able to. He carefully avoided looking back. He would have to remind her to be careful. The languid heat he’d seen in her gaze when she looked at him might be noticed amongst these watchful women.
Midafternoon, Mr. Reeves appeared in the kitchen doorway while Adrian searched for a tea tray. Adrian stilled as he noticed the butler watching him. A frown marred the man’s solemn countenance.
“Is something wrong, Mr. Reeves?”
“Montague. My office. Now.”
Adrian shared a glance with the cook. Mrs. Webster’s lips pursed into a worried frown as she looked at him. Being called by his surname did not bode well. Adrian saw that Benjamin had charge of the tea tray before he went to Mr. Reeves’s office and knocked.
“Come.” Mr. Reeves was standing in the corner of his office, and to Adrian’s surprise, Lord Devon was there as well. Both men were frowning at Adrian. Dread knocked the wind from Adrian’s lungs.
No, this can’t be happening.
“Adrian, I have been informed that you’ve been fraternizing with one of the guests. You know my policy on that.” Lord Devon’s eyes were heavy with sorrow and disappointment. Somehow, disappointing Lord Devon made this truly dreadful moment a thousand times worse.
“Your Grace, I’m sorry.” He didn’t try to make excuses. It would only make him look a fool.
“I’m afraid we must end your employment, effective immediately. I hate to send you away, Adrian. You’ve been a damned good footman, impeccable service, and Reeves said you’ve done so much to mentor the younger lads here. He fought for you to stay, but I fear we can’t ignore the complaint.”
That surprised Adrian. Mr. Reeves had fought for him? “I understand, Your Grace.”
Mr. Reeves looked deeply troubled. “Well, in light of your years of service, I will provide a recommendation.” He held out a sealed letter to Adrian, who took it with a numbness that left him beyond cold.
“Reeves will see you on your way. I am sorry, Adrian. Lady Devon and I will miss you.”
Shame burned a hole through Adrian’s chest. He bowed his head as Lord Devon left the butler’s office. Mr. Reeves cleared his throat, and Adrian lifted his head.
“Sir, may I inquire as to who made the complaint?”
“It was Mrs. Hamill. She claims to have spotted you leaving Lady Venetia’s bedroom this morning.”
Of course. Mrs. Hamill had found a way to avenge her pride at last. He should have expected this. But he and Venetia had been so careful.
“Sir, you should know that Mrs. Hamill attempted to seduce me, and I believe she did this out of a desire to avenge her wounded pride.”
“That may be the case, but the die is cast, and you did sleep with Lady Venetia.”
“I know,” he sighed. “But watch out for the other footmen. I don’t want Mrs. Hamill to destroy any more lives.”
“Agreed,” Mr. Reeves said. “I will watch out for them. There is a coach leaving for London in half an hour. The driver has agreed to take you on the top seat if you can be ready.”
“I can.” Adrian swallowed hard. “Thank you for defending me, sir.”
“I don’t agree with his lordship on this. Lady Devon placed you in a difficult position. I was young once, and I remember how complicated situations like this can be.” Mr. Reeves’s sincerity only made this worse.
“You . . . ?”
Mr. Reeves nodded. “I also fell in love once with a lady above stairs.”
Mr. Reeves had been in love with someone? Until that moment, Adrian couldn’t have pictured the grumpy butler as a dashing buck with romance on his mind and heart. Mr. Reeves understood, then, the knifing pain that Adrian was feeling in his chest and the way it was constricting his breathing.
“Sir . . . How did you recover?”
“A man doesn’t recover, not from that. I moved on with all but my heart. That’s all I will say on the matter. You had better go and pack your things.”
Adrian entered his basement room, shoving his belongings into his old leather valise. He had few possessions, only a few books, a miniature of his mother, and a handful of his own clothes. For a lifetime of twenty-nine years, he had so little. It bothered him more now than ever to have so little evidence of a life lived.
But he also had one handkerchief, one that Venetia had embroidered for him a few days ago. He rubbed his thumb over the intricate ivy leaves surrounding his initials: A. M. It was such a small gift from her, yet to him it was the only thing that mattered, aside from his mother’s small gilt-framed likeness.
“So it’s true—you’re leaving,” Benjamin said from the doorway. The young man’s face was stricken. Adrian hadn’t realized how much Benjamin looked up to him. Leaving Hartland, leaving his friends—it was going to be harder than he ever thought.
“Yes,” Adrian answered slowly, doing his best to keep emotion out of his voice. “Mrs. Hamill was furious that I did not accept her gracious offer to bed her, and now she has her revenge.” Adrian had no desire to hold his tongue now. It wasn’t as though things could get worse. He’d already been terminated.
“It’s a bloody unfair business.” Benjamin looked furious.
“It is. But life is unfair, at least to our kind.” Adrian tucked the handkerchief safely in his bag and headed toward the door.
Benjamin held out his hand. “Write to me. Let me know where you’ve settled.”
“Yes, of course,” Adrian promised.
He left his room and found that many of the servants were there to see him off, including Mr. Reeves.
Mrs. Webster embraced him. “Good luck, lad.”
Phillip shook Adrian’s hand, echoing his mother’s sentiments.
The coach was waiting out front. Adrian climbed onto the top seat, pulling his cloak tightly about him as it began to rain. He hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye to Venetia, but that was for the best. They had both been living in a dream this last week. Better to simply vanish and leave behind only golden-hued memories. He would carry her in his heart forever, and that would have to be enough. Memories of her sunny hair, the sound of her laugh, the way she lost herself when she was reading aloud to him, the way she looked into his eyes with such adoration that for one brief week he had felt truly, deeply, earnestly loved.
* * *
Venetia watched the raindrops trail down the windowpane of the drawing room and sighed. Mr. Sherman and a few others were playing a game of faro, and some ladies, including her grandmother, were conversing in another corner of the room. The outdoor picnic planned for today had been canceled due to the poor weather. While Venetia enjoyed plenty of indoor activities, she had been looking forward to being outside for a bit.
It was silly, but she’d been hoping to steal away with Adrian in the garden hedges, perhaps steal a few kisses, and watch the sun light up his face. Whenever he was alone with her, he opened up in the most marvelous way that left her breathless. She longed to see that part of him again, to see him playful and happy—and hers.
A nagging feeling pulled her from her daydreams. She glanced about the room and noticed that Mrs. Hamill was watching her with a smug look on her face. Lord Devon came into the room, and Lady Devon excused herself to speak with him in hushed tones. The duchess’s gaze flicked to Venetia and then back to her husband. Mrs. Hamill
got up from her seat and came to sit beside Venetia. The woman’s catlike smile made the hairs on Venetia’s neck stand on end.
“Such a pity,” the other woman said. Her tone conveyed an acidic victory that distressed Venetia.
“What is?” she asked.
“That handsome footman, the tall one with the dark hair? Lord Devon sent him packing.”
At first the words didn’t quite register in Venetia’s mind. “Sent him packing?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Hamill replied with a sharp smile. “He’s been intimate with one of the guests.” She leveled Venetia with a pointed stare. Nausea churned in Venetia’s stomach. “I just had to inform His Grace when I saw the man’s indiscretion. He left a short while ago.”
Venetia’s mind ran at a frantic pace. Adrian had been let go? He was already gone? Fury and fear dueled within her, leaving her unsure of what to do, until at last anger triumphed. Venetia reached for her cold, abandoned cup of tea, stood, and without a word poured the contents on Mrs. Hamill’s head. The woman shrieked and flapped her arms like a soaked chicken.
“Why, you—”
“Careful, Mrs. Hamill,” Venetia warned. “Or I will tell everyone in this room why you went running to Lord Devon about Mr. Montague.” She tsked. “Throwing hairbrushes like a spoiled child.” Mrs. Hamill hissed like an angry cat before she flounced from the room.
Her grandmother had risen from her chair at the sign of the argument. “Venetia, dear, one is supposed to drink tea, not pour it over the heads of simpering fools. Though I do understand the impulse.”
“I’m sorry, Gran. It slipped.”
Gwen gave a thin smile. “Did it now?”
Mr. Sherman glanced between Venetia and where his sister had gone with open concern.
Venetia crossed the room, aware of the entire assembly now watching her. “Lord Devon, may I speak to you?”
The duke nodded gravely and stepped into the corridor with her.
“Is it true that you’ve dismissed Mr. Montague?”
The duke’s face turned a ruddy red. “Er . . . Yes, unfortunately.”
“You should know that Mrs. Hamill attempted to coerce him into her bed, and she came to you to have him dismissed after he turned her down.”
This took the duke by surprise. “I was not aware of that. Then you deny that you had an indiscretion with the man?”
“I do not deny it.” Venetia wouldn’t deny it. It would be an insult to Adrian to pretend, when he’d already suffered the consequences of their secret love affair.
“Then I fear my actions must stand, and I suspect your grandmother will have much to say to you about this matter.”
In that moment, Venetia had a brilliant flash of clarity. She could see a future she had not been brave enough to fully envision before. A future where she spoke her vows in a church to the only man she knew was worth marrying. She saw amber-eyed babes. She saw light and laughter in her life. She saw Adrian.
“Has he already gone?” she asked Lord Devon.
“He is on a coach heading for London. Mr. Grimsby had to leave the party a day early.”
“I see . . .” Venetia was debating what to do, when the drawing room door opened and Mr. Sherman joined them.
“Lady Venetia, I sense that my sister has caused you some distress. Is there anything I might do to make amends?” The gentleman seemed completely sincere, and that gave her a spark of inspiration.
“Actually, yes. My ankle is still not up to riding on my own, but I desperately need to catch up with a coach on the road. Could you help me?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.” She looked to Lord Devon. “I am bringing him back, and I would greatly appreciate it if you would treat him well until I’m able to pack and leave with him.”
“Leave . . . with him?” Lord Devon echoed uncertainly. “I’m not sure I understand.”
Venetia’s heart was beating wildly now. “I’ve decided to marry him.” She said this with a smile that made her feel like she was glowing from within. Marry Adrian—yes, that was what she was going to do.
For a moment the duke simply stared at her. “I . . . Yes, yes, you can come back, of course. I like the man, Lady Venetia. It upset me greatly to have to send him away, but your grandmother . . .”
Venetia didn’t have time to listen. She started toward the front door, Mr. Sherman at her side.
“So you have made a choice?” he said quietly. “I had rather hoped . . . But no matter. The best man won, and I am happy to help you.”
“You know, then?” she asked.
Mr. Sherman instructed a footman to go to the stables and have his horse brought round as quickly as possible. He smiled sadly. “It was hard not to see. It was obvious that you were in love—it just wasn’t with me.”
She put a hand on his arm. “I am sorry, Mr. Sherman.”
“Don’t be, Lady Venetia. I confess that there wasn’t as much of a spark as I had hoped for.”
“And there should be, shouldn’t there?”
“In the best marriages, yes. I had hoped that you and I might find a spark, but it seems you are destined for that footman.”
A groom walked up with a horse, and Mr. Sherman went down the steps toward it. “Allow me to mount you up first.”
Mr. Sherman handed her up. The saddle was already slick with rain, but Venetia didn’t care. She held the reins while Mr. Sherman got up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her to grasp the reins, and they took off down the road. Neither of them spoke, and the rain grew heavier. Venetia was soon chilled to the bone, and after nearly a quarter of an hour she was afraid that they might not catch up with the coach.
Mr. Sherman raised a hand. “There!”
The black shape that was visible through the rain was indeed a coach.
Mr. Sherman called out to the coachman as he moved his horse closer. “Hello there! Please stop!”
The driver jerked on the reins, and the coach rolled to a stop. A man on top, covered in a rain-slicked cloak, sat hunched forward, unmoving. The driver, lower down on the front of the vehicle, turned to look at them.
“What’s the matter, sir?” the driver asked.
“We’re looking for a Mr. . . .” Mr. Sherman looked at Venetia uncertainly.
“Mr. Adrian Montague,” she supplied.
“Mr. Adrian Montague. Is he on your coach?”
At Sherman’s question, the figure sitting atop turned around. It was Adrian. Her beautiful footman, his face white with shock.
“My lady?” he gasped.
“Oh, Adrian! Please do come down. We must speak.”
“I cannot. I’m bound for London. Lord Devon terminated my employment.”
“I know, but it doesn’t matter. Please come down from there.”
Adrian gave an apologetic look to the coach driver as he climbed down and removed his valise from the back of the conveyance. He looked between her and Mr. Sherman in concern.
Mr. Sherman raised his hands. “I am here on a mission for love, but I am not in the way, I assure you.”
The driver called out, “Oi! You staying or coming with us?”
“He’s staying!” Venetia called back and waved the man away. For a moment she feared that Adrian would reject her words, reject her, but she had to trust that he loved her as she loved him.
“I am?” Adrian asked with heart-wrenching uncertainty.
The rain lessened a little. Venetia shivered, and Adrian removed his cloak and put it around her shoulders. His scent enveloped her, and she couldn’t help but beam at him in relief. She’d found him. He hadn’t vanished.
The coach driver shrugged and pulled away, leaving Venetia, Mr. Sherman, and Adrian with only one horse between them.
“Heavens, how are we to get back?” she asked.
“You’ll ride,” both men insisted. Venetia considered arguing, but she saw the resolve on their faces. There would be no arguing with them.
“Very well.” She was lifted up into the saddl
e. Mr. Sherman took the reins and led the horse. They had walked only a few minutes when another coach approached them, this one with Venetia’s family crest emblazoned on it.
“Lady Latham sent me for you, my lady!” the coachman said. “She didn’t want you to get wet.” The driver chuckled as he looked at the already soaked trio.
Mr. Sherman turned to Venetia as she slid out of the saddle and into Adrian’s arms. “You and Mr. Montague need some time alone to converse. I shall ride back to the house ahead of you.”
Venetia caught his hand. “Mr. Sherman, you are a fine gentleman. There is a woman out there for you, a lady deserving of your noble heart.” She smiled at him, and then with a grin she added, “But it would be best to keep her far away from your sister when you find her.”
Mr. Sherman laughed heartily. “Never has truer advice been offered. I wish you all the best, Lady Venetia.”
“I wish that for you as well.”
Mr. Sherman left, and Venetia turned to Adrian, who had opened the coach door for her. She quickly climbed inside, and he followed.
“Venetia, why did you come after me?”
* * *
Adrian gazed at the woman who held his heart in her hands as she climbed inside the coach. She’d come for him, but why? Had she learned of his firing and convinced Lord Devon to reinstate him? Yet Mr. Sherman had said this was a mission of love. He wasn’t trying to be deliberately obtuse, but sanity had to tamp down on the rising swell of hope within him. She couldn’t be here for him, and yet . . .
He climbed inside the coach after her. “Venetia, why did you come after me?”
“I know that what I’m about to do is completely out of the normal way of things, but I believe you would not ask, so I must.”
“Ask what?” He studied her face, the way she looked so nervous and excited all at once.
“I came so that I could propose to you. Adrian, will you honor me for the rest of the days of our lives by marrying me?”
Adrian wondered if he’d fallen from the top of the coach and hit his head. He must be dreaming.
Tempting the Footman: The House of Devon Book 5 Page 11