“I . . .”
Venetia’s face reddened. “Heavens, if you don’t want to, I understand, but I had thought that . . . Oh, I am silly, aren’t I?”
She looked humiliated, and Adrian’s reactions finally caught up with him. He reached across the seat to her, clasping her gloved hands in his. “The answer is yes. Yes to anything you might ever ask me,” he replied, fighting off waves of powerful emotions that threatened to sweep him away.
She brightened with fresh hope. “Yes?”
“Yes, my heart, yes.” He had no other words to tell her what lay in his heart, but yes was enough for now. Someday he would find the right romantic phrases a man like Mr. Sherman would speak to her, but for now all he had was yes.
The coach soon stopped in front of Hartland Abbey. “Are you certain that I am the right man? Have you thought about what it would cost you to . . . marry beneath you?” he asked.
She leaned in to kiss him, her hands cupping his face. “I have, and I’m more certain than anything else in my life that this is what I want. I only wish I had been brave enough to ask you earlier.”
“What stopped you?”
“The children. It won’t be easy, but I believe that, given time, the scandal will pass and our children will be able to enter society with little gossip.”
“Because of my birth and occupation?” He had never been more ashamed of himself than he was at that moment.
“Yes, but as I told you, I do not care about that. I care about you, the type of man you are, and I am ready to fight the world for you, Adrian. A few gossiping women don’t stand a chance against me, my love. I have too much of Gran in me.”
He studied the earnest determination in her eyes. “Those poor gossiping women,” he teased.
“Poor indeed. And I shall be rich in my love for you.” She kissed him again, her mouth soft upon his lips in a way that made him lightheaded. “Now, be brave. We must next face my grandmother.”
Adrian assisted Venetia out of the coach, and they walked up the front steps of the Abbey. For the first time in all the years he’d lived at Hartland, he would be entering through the front door of his home.
“I believe your grandmother is the only person I fear.”
“And rightly so.” Lady Latham harrumphed as she met them inside the door.
“Lady Latham.” Adrian bowed his head respectfully.
“Come in and dry off, you two.” She frowned at Venetia. “What’s gotten into you? Rushing off into the rain without a cloak like that. Smart young ladies chasing after men always take a coach and a cloak. If I hadn’t had a coach, I never would have chased your grandfather down. Dear heavens, the man was practically running to get away from me, but I caught him in the end.”
“But, Gran—” Venetia began to argue, only to stop and wonder what her grandmother and grandfather’s love story was.
“I agree with her, Venetia. You’re acting like one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s Gothic novel heroines. All you are missing is your candelabra.”
“Smart man, agreeing with me,” Lady Latham said. “You chose well, my dear.” Her tone toward Venetia warmed. “Now go upstairs and change. I need to have a word with Mr. Montague.”
Venetia gave him an apologetic nod before rushing upstairs.
“In here.” Lady Latham pointed her cane toward the nearest room, a small salon. She took a seat on the settee, but Adrian remained standing respectfully in her presence.
“You know of Venetia’s situation?”
“Yes. She has told me why she wishes to marry someone of her own choosing, and why it has to be soon.”
“She comes with a great deal of money and an oaf of a cousin who will likely cause problems, at first, for whoever she marries.”
Adrian nodded. “She did mention that as well.”
“If you marry her, you will face scrutiny and judgment at every turn.” Lady Latham’s tone was deadly serious. “Are you prepared for that? Even your children will face challenges.”
“Yes.”
“That being said, I have a few ideas that might help.” She looked toward the doorway behind him and waved her hand, bidding someone to enter. He turned, and his heart caught in his throat.
Lady Mowbray, his half sister, stood before him. Her eyes searched his face before she smiled hesitantly.
“Adrian, is it?” his sister asked.
“Yes. How . . . ?”
“I claim the credit of that discovery, my boy,” Lady Latham said. “Lady Devon did not divulge your parentage, no matter how much I pestered her, and that was quite a bit. No, it was the way Venetia watched Lady Mowbray with so much interest. And when we stood in the portrait gallery this morning, I realized that you bear a strong resemblance to my friend here. We put the pieces together while Venetia was off fetching you.” Lady Latham smiled as her deductions were proved correct.
“Is it true?” Lady Mowbray asked. “My governess was your mother?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. His heart and head filled with a soft fluttering that was somewhere between joy and panic.
Lady Mowbray’s smile became more confident. “My brother and I adored your mother. I am sorry to hear that she passed.” The beautiful woman turned her amber eyes on him, eyes they shared. “My father made a mistake in sending her away. He should have married her, and you should have had a childhood with us.” She held out a hand to him. “You are family, at least to me, and I believe my brother will feel the same. Will you accept me . . . brother?”
Lady Mowbray’s words and the olive branch of her hand were almost too much to bear. In one day, he had lost his entire world and now a new world and a new future had been thrust on him, one that was brighter than he ever could have dreamed.
“I am honored, Lady Mowbray.”
“Ellen, please. We are family.” She grinned, and Adrian clasped her hand between both of his.
“So, you see, my boy, your sister and I will do all within our power to bring you into the world, but it will still be a challenge.”
“I understand,” he replied. “Venetia is worth everything.”
The older woman gave a cunning smile. “Good. Now you see why I chose you.”
“Chose me?” he echoed in complete confusion.
Lady Latham laughed. “Yes, you think this was all fate and destiny? Dear boy, I knew from the moment you helped me from the coach when we first arrived that you would suit my granddaughter perfectly. It was just a matter of finding a way to pair you with her.”
Lady Mowbray giggled and locked her arm with Adrian’s. “It’s best not to ask how Lady Latham works her magic,” she whispered. “Lord Mowbray and I would not have gotten married if not for her clever intervention. Now come, let us talk while we wait for Venetia. We have much to catch up on, brother, and I wish to introduce you to my darling husband, Edward.”
11
Three days later…
Adrian stood in the small Hartland church close to the property of the Abbey, his friend Benjamin at his side. He wore a pair of fine dark-blue trousers and a matching coat with a gold waistcoat.
It felt odd not to be wearing the livery of a footman, which he’d worn nearly every single day of service, except on rare holidays. Ahead of him, the church was filled with a small group of Hartland Abbey servants, as well as Lord and Lady Devon and their children. It was alarming to be so visible after so many years of practicing the art of invisibility.
He looked toward Peregrine Sherman, who’d ridden to London with him two days before to procure a special license from the Doctors’ Commons so he could marry Venetia straightaway. He owed the man much and hoped to repay the favor someday. Peregrine nodded at him in silent acknowledgment.
“Steady on, old boy,” said Benjamin.
“What if she changes her mind?” Adrian asked. “What if she realizes that she’s made a mistake?”
“She’s definitely making a mistake in marrying you, but I doubt that will stop her from showing up.” His friend chuckled.
The church doors opened before Adrian could reply. First, his half sister entered. Ellen shot him a bright smile as she found her place in the front pew. Adrian’s half brother, Lord Bainbridge, followed behind her, Venetia upon his arm, escorting her down the aisle.
Part of him still wondered if he was dreaming. Had his life changed so dramatically in just a few short days? Had he been thrown from that carriage three days before, and now he was lying senseless upon a muddy road, and all of this was his imagination? He was lost for words as his future wife came toward him. He was marrying a lady, the daughter of an earl, and she loved him.
Venetia was a vision in blue watered silk, trimmed in Belgian lace. A small diadem of diamonds, a family heirloom, rested upon her golden hair. She was halfway down the aisle when the door at the back of the church flew open and a man rushed in. No, barged in. Stormed the church like it was the Bastille.
“Stop! I will not allow this!” The man charged toward Venetia, and she went stark white. He grasped her arm, twisting it. Adrian dashed down the aisle and jerked her free of the man, putting Venetia safely behind him.
“Who are you, sir, and why have you put your hands on my wife?” Adrian snarled.
The man glared hatefully over Adrian’s shoulder at Venetia.
“She’s not your wife yet. I am her cousin, and I have a say in who she marries. And it certainly won’t be to some bastard like you!”
Adrian curled his hands into fists, ignoring the anxious stares of the wedding guests all around them.
“You must be Lord Latham, the oafish cousin I’ve heard so much about.”
Adrian heard Lady Latham snort somewhere behind him.
Venetia’s hand pressed lightly against his back, giving him silent support as she spoke to her cousin.
“Patrick, you must leave. I reached the age of majority three years ago. I do not need anyone’s permission to marry, least of all yours.” Venetia’s voice was calm, but Adrian could feel a slight trembling in her as she pressed against him from behind.
“Think carefully, cousin,” Patrick warned. “I’m a peer now. You will lose all of your friends and connections, and I will make sure you aren’t welcome anywhere. Your children will be the product of a bast—”
Adrian hit Patrick square in the jaw. The man yelped and staggered back, clutching his face.
“You’ve just assaulted a peer of the realm! I could see you hanged!” Patrick snapped.
Peregrine stepped up beside Adrian. “I don’t see how, Latham. After all, you hit your face on the edge of a pew when you tripped while attending your beloved cousin’s wedding. Very unfortunate.”
“What!” Patrick shouted. “No one would agree to lie—”
Peregrine glanced around. “Did anyone see this man struck by a fist?” Not a single wedding guest made a sound. “Did anyone see him trip?” They all stared contemptuously at Patrick, and a rumble of agreement rolled through the pews.
Peregrine smiled grimly. “I believe it’s time you left.” He bent, gripped Patrick’s arm, and dragged him toward the exit at the rear of the church.
“Oh, Adrian,” Venetia whispered. “I’m so sorry about this.”
Adrian gently took his fiancée’s hands and smiled at her, letting her know all was well. With a look to Lord Bainbridge, who nodded in approval, Adrian walked Venetia to the altar himself.
The clergyman cleared his throat. “Let us begin.”
Adrian held Venetia’s hands in his, speaking his vows and listening to hers. Once it was done, he stole a kiss that made Benjamin cheer. Then they turned to face the assembled guests in the church, seeing the servants of Hartland who had been his family these last ten years, as well as the Duke and Duchess of Devon, who beamed at him with pride. His gaze fell last on Venetia’s grandmother, who wiped a tear from her wrinkled cheek.
“Well done, my boy,” she said. “Very well done.”
Adrian’s throat tightened as he realized that in her way, Lady Latham was saying that she welcomed him to the family.
Venetia smiled at him, the sort of smile he thought he would only ever see in a dream, one that seemed to outshine the sun itself.
“Tell me what you are thinking,” she prompted.
Adrian brushed his fingertips over her lips. “I’m thinking that no man will ever be as blessed as I am to go from footman to husband—especially to your husband.”
Venetia’s eyes twinkled. “I think I am rather glad I sprained my ankle, or else we might never have met.”
He burst out laughing, and she wrinkled her brow in confusion.
“What?” she asked.
“I believe your grandmother would have found a way to bring us together, regardless. She’s very clever.”
“She is indeed.” Venetia turned thoughtful eyes toward her grandmother. “Very clever.”
Lady Latham gripped her cane and smiled back at them, as if she knew exactly what they were saying about her.
“But she couldn’t possibly have guessed all that would happen,” Venetia mused.
“She didn’t need to. She only needed to do one thing,” Adrian said.
“What’s that?”
“To make sure that I would be tempted by you.” He gazed at her kissable lips, uncaring of the guests nearby.
Venetia’s eyes softened. “And were you?”
“Never was there a man in all of England so tempted.”
Adrian leaned down and stole another kiss, one that would scandalize everyone present, but he didn’t care.
* * *
One week later
Venetia watched her husband enjoy his breakfast and peruse the newspaper in their new London townhouse. Gwen was out having tea with a few friends early in the morning and had left Venetia and her new husband alone. Venetia took advantage of the time to watch her husband unobserved. How she adored him…even as he was frowning slightly as he read, she’d learned he did that when he was focusing intently on something.
He was still getting used to the more relaxed life of a man who had married an heiress. It hadn’t been easy at first when she’d told her friends of the marriage, but after meeting Adrian, they had all seen what made him so perfect. Murmurs of him marrying her for money quickly dissolved. On each of the last seven mornings, he woke well before dawn, thinking he had to get dressed and work, but each time she kissed him and pulled him back down into their bed. It would take time, teaching him to live a different life, but she would enjoy it.
He folded his paper and looked in her direction. “I thought I might adjust the hours of the staff, with your permission.”
“Oh?” This piqued her curiosity.
“I thought of shortening their hours but not reducing wages. We can afford it.” He proposed this carefully, respectful of the fact that the money he had access to came from Venetia’s inheritance. He was keeping to his word and treating their marriage as a partnership.
“As you have the most knowledge of that field, I leave that decision to you.”
Adrian relaxed and smiled at her, his expression peaceful. She’d never realized how tightly wound he had been until after they had married. He had become someone different, someone better—more relaxed and happier. Life in service had been hard, but now he had a chance to live more peacefully. It was only natural that he would wish to ease the load of the servants in his new home.
Their butler, Mr. Evanston, appeared in the doorway. “Sir, you have a visitor.” He came to the table and held out a silver tray with a calling card on it.
“I have a visitor?” Adrian exchanged a puzzled glance with Venetia before he picked up the card. The butler waited patiently as Adrian read the card. He paled and handed the card to Venetia.
“The Duke of Stratford? Your father’s here?” She reached across the table and touched his arm. “What do you wish to do?”
“I . . .” He shook his head. “I suppose it would be good to see him.”
“Do you wish for me to accompany you?” Venetia watched Adrian with concern. The pallor on his face was disconcerting. He’d been careful not to speak much of his father, or the rejection that had burned Adrian so deeply early in his life.
“Please come,” Adrian said without hesitation. “I will feel better if you are there.”
They told Evanston to show the duke into their drawing room, and then they joined their unexpected guest. The duke was tall and thin, but strong. He was in his late fifties and in many ways was a mirror of his son, with amber eyes and dark hair now streaked with gray at the temples. When he saw Adrian, he stilled his pacing and squared his shoulders.
“Thank you for coming to visit us, Your Grace,” Venetia began.
“Mrs. Montague,” the duke greeted formally, and then his gaze moved back to Adrian.
“Would you care to sit?” Venetia suggested. “I could have some tea brought in.”
Adrian and his father shared a long, silent look before the duke replied.
“If your husband has no objection, I would very much like that.”
Adrian waved at the chairs in the room. “Please, sit.”
The duke chose one and sat, and Venetia and Adrian took a pair of chairs facing him.
“I regret that this call comes so late,” the duke said. “I was unsure if I would be welcome, but Lady Latham recently visited me and gave me her assurance that you would agree to see me.”
“My grandmother visited you?” Venetia couldn’t help but wonder when her grandmother had done that. She had been spending more time out of the house now that Venetia was married. When Venetia had told her she didn’t need to leave them alone so often, her grandmother had stroked her cheek fondly and smiled with a twinkle in her eye and had said, “Trust me, my dear, you’ll look back on these early days with the fondest smile and it’s best that you have time alone with him before the babes arrive.”
The duke’s expression transformed to one of amusement.
“She reminded me that I am not a coward. Yet these last ten years I have been behaving very cowardly. Both of my other children did without hesitation what I failed to do, which is to welcome you into my life, Adrian.”
Tempting the Footman: The House of Devon Book 5 Page 12