Page 28 of Falling for a Footman

“The 40th regiment of foot, sir,” he lied. He and Harrowby had agreed that it would be a suitable regiment for someone who went on to become a footman.

“Ah, I thought I recognized the posture. I was in the 10th Hussars myself. But tell me, why is a fine young lad such as you not fighting in the peninsular where you’re supposed to be? Instead of here back home, pulling out chairs and opening doors?” the colonel demanded.

James opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out. He had not prepared an answer for this. He could under no circumstances tell the colonel, nor anyone else, why he had been asked to leave the army.

The duke cleared his throat and thus getting the attention of the whole room.

“There is no need to interrogate my footmen, colonel. I can assure you, James had good reason to leave the army. And the young man has to live now. How about a game of whist, gentlemen?” the duke asked amiably and strode towards the drawing room doors. He never once looked at James and yet James knew that the duke had just saved him. He would have to thank him when they were alone together.

It was a relief when the gentlemen left the room, and they could start the cleaning. Standing still for hours was a much harder job than James had initially thought.

“I did not know you had been in the army,” Kenny questioned him as they were gathering the pudding plates. He was a young lad, obsessed with horses and with a dream of joining a cavalry regiment; he had told James more than once.

“I was. I joined when I was eighteen,” James told him, since there was no reason to lie about this. As a second son he had needed to find his own way in the world and the army had seemed to suit him the best.

“Then why did you leave? You haven’t deserted, have you?” Kenny asked with round eyes. He had stopped working to look at James.

“Kenny!” William scolded him good-naturedly before James had a chance to talk. “At least keep working while you grill James.”

Kenny obediently bent his head and continued collecting the plates.

“I did not desert the army,” James stated in a firm voice, since this needed to be said. “I was very ill with pneumonia and had to return to England to recuperate. When I finally recovered, the doctor found that I was no longer physically fit to be a soldier.”

This had actually happened to one of James’s men and he was glad that he remembered the story now and could use it as his own. That would certainly have been a more honorable way to have left the army than how he had.

“You seem fine to me,” Kenny muttered.

“It’s my lungs. They do not work as well as before,” James lied and coughed for good measure. Then hurried out the room with a tray of plates.

It was past midnight before the guests left and the family retired, and he could start his rounds of putting out the candles in the drawing room and the hallways of the downstairs floor.

He was walking to the end of the almost dark hallway where the duke’s study was, when he heard footsteps behind him. He stopped and squinted into the dark. As he was close to the candlestick on the wall it was difficult to make out anything that did not lie within the radius of the light. The footsteps were light and after a couple of more steps he spotted the figure of a tall, but slender person. Definitely a woman.

His heart pounded in his chest with excitement, even though he told himself that it had to be one of the maids. It could not be Charlotte. It would be absurd that it was her. Yet his mouth had gone dry and his hand clammy while his whole body throbbed with anticipation of finally being near her again. He dried his hands on his white breeches. Much could be said about the Camborne livery, but it certainly provided the maids with a steady stream of laundry.

The woman had stepped into the circle of light and with her hair down in a simple braid and a plain pale green dress that buttoned down the front, it took a moment for James to recognize her. Or perhaps it was simply the shock that it was actually her.

“Charlotte,” he breathed before straightening and clearing his throat to add: “Lady Charlotte, how may I help you?”

“I need to talk to you,” she whispered and looked up and down the hallway.

James realized that they were much too exposed here in the light from the candle. If anyone walked down the hallway, they would instantly be seen. He turned to blow out the candle then reached for her hand in the dark. It might be his mind playing tricks on him, but he was fairly certain that she had extended her hand towards him as well.

He scolded his body for enjoying her touch; it was simply a precaution so that they would not be separated in the darkness.

“This way,” he whispered and led her into the room next to the duke’s study. It was a small room with bookcases on one wall and a display of two or three stuffed birds of prey on shelves on the other. In the moonlight that filtered in through the windows, they looked large and menacing, ready to strike. James had never been in the room before and had no idea what it was used for. Charlotte let go of his hand the moment the door was closed behind them. James absentmindedly rubbed his hands on his breeches again, not sure whether he was wiping the sensation of her hand away or trying to forever imprint it on his skin. How had she been able to reduce him to such a fool after just one kiss?

“Did you tell anyone?” Charlotte demanded and crossed her arms over her chest after staring him down for a moment.

James instantly tensed at her words; her stand and hard tone reminded him so much of Mrs. Fuller in that moment that he felt transported back to Portugal for a moment.

“Tell anyone what?” he countered in a hard voice to mask any feelings it would otherwise betray. He knew what she was referring to, yet he wanted to hear her say it.

He could not see her eyes clearly in the moonlight, but the way she bit her lip told him that she was either thinking or uncertain how to phrase what she wanted to say.

“About the kiss,” she finally relented.

James’s mind spun with the events of the past day and a half. He could not remember anyone that had acted out of the ordinary with him. But perhaps they had with her.