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‘No need if Flynn vouches for you. Come tomorrow, then. If I am not here the workmen will let you in. If Lord Porton’s butler docks your wages owing in lieu of notice, tell me.’
‘Sir, thank you, sir. I’ll – ’
‘Stop gabbling. You can have bed, board, the proper wage for the position,’ – he’d consult Flynn about that – ‘and tuition. In return I want absolute discretion from you about every aspect of my business. Understand? I know servants gossip – but you never, ever, speak of what I do, what you hear, who comes here. If you do you will wish I merely sacked you as a consequence.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The lad positively blushed. ‘My ambition is to be the kind of valet that Flynn is. You don’t get to be like that without absolute loyalty. Thank you, sir. You won’t regret it.’
‘No, I will not.’ Jared smiled and Dover swallowed visibly.
Chapter Seven
‘Flynn’s found me a manservant,’ Jared remarked as he passed a dish of salsify to Sophie. They were serving themselves without footmen in attendance and they could relax. ‘Youthful, freckled and with a yen to learn swordsmanship. I have no idea where he found him, although he says he is a friend. But not that kind of friend.’
Sophie nodded. She knew about Flynn’s sexuality but Jared suspected that the only thing that mattered to her was that he was loyal to Cal. ‘I know. I overheard him in the kitchen this afternoon – it was his half day and he came round to sob on Flynn’s shoulder. Not literally, of course. It seems the Portman’s butler has a down on him, or, rather, he favours his own nephew who is in service there and young – Dover, is it? – young Dover has been getting the short end of the stick for far too long. You should be all right with him, Flynn is a good judge of character.’
‘Michael has learned to be cautious,’ Cal said. ‘Anyway, I am glad he has found you someone, although whether this young man can raise the dead with as much skill as Flynn has used on that suit of yours remains to be seen.’
Jared glanced down at his immaculate self and nodded. ‘He has made a good job of it, considering that I packed my riding boots and a pile of books on top of it. He is sulking because I won’t wear that confounded waistcoat of yours though.’ His was of black watered silk, as always.
‘I bought it on a whim and he is quite correct, it looks appallingly clerical. I shall have to send it to a charity for distressed prelates, but I will tease him with it a little longer.’
‘Never mind your waistcoats,’ Sophie said with a wave of her empty wine glass. ‘How can we help Lady Northam? Other than by befriending her, of course.’
Jared leaned over to refill her glass. ‘Keep an eye on her this evening. Does anyone watch her in particular? Do you overhear any remarks about her? Someone must hate her.’
Sophie shivered. ‘It is awful. We will do our best.’
Was there anywhere lonelier than the midst of a crowd of people? Guin descended the shallow sweep of stairs down into the Fulborne’s ballroom, her hand on Augustus’s arm, her chin up, a smile on her lips that felt as though it had been tacked there.
She knew she looked well. That was important, that was one of the things that she owed to Augustus. The gown of silver net over palest blue silk was a masterpiece of elegant simplicity, setting off the aquamarine and diamond set that had been her husband’s wedding present. The gems were chill around her neck and over her bosom, the weight of the earrings pinched at her earlobes, her wrists felt weighted down by bracelets and the combs fixing the delicate tiara into her hair seemed to dig in claws.
Smile. Someone out there hates me, so do not show them my fear. Was her enemy in this swirling throng, did one of the faces that had turned to look when they had been announced hide the secret to the persecution? Or was her tormentor operating at a distance through bought agents?
But she was not alone, she must remember that. She had Augustus, bless him, although she wanted to protect him as much as he wanted to shield her. And now she had Jared Hunt who made her feel safe even as he made her feel so very unsafe, simply by being himself, so uncompromisingly male.
Where was he? Had he arrived already? She supposed he would have done, he was a professional. Guin scanned the crowd, but it was more difficult now they were at the level of the ballroom. People smiled, nodded, made momentary small talk as they passed, but no-one lingered long, not to talk to the young woman with no connections and no status who had ensnared a doting elderly viscount.
Once she had partners and Augustus was satisfied that she was dancing happily, then he would be absorbed into one of the groups of older men here to escort their daughters and wives. His friends, his generation, not hers.
‘Lord Northam! How delightful to see you again. We were introduced at Lady Sefton’s reception, do you recall? Sophie Calderbrook. This must be your wife.’ The blue-eyed beauty with the wonderful golden hair who was smiling at her with genuine warmth was the Duchess of Calderbrook? A duchess wanting an introduction to me?
Augustus was beaming. ‘Certainly, Your Grace, this is Lady Northam. Guinnie, my dear, the Duchess of Calderbrook. Ah – and here is the Duke.’
‘And may I introduce our friend Mr Hunt?’ The Duke arrived at his wife’s wide with Jared and they both shook hands and smiled and Jared behaved as though he had never set eyes on her before.
So that was why the Duchess had taken a sudden fancy to be introduced – but what was the ambiguous Mr Hunt doing in the Duke’s party at a ball? She had thought that he was only going to ask an ex-employer for help to secure an invitation, yet both the Duke and Duchess were treating him as a close friend. He was smiling at her now, with the perfectly-calculated expression of a man who is admiring a married lady in the most respectful way. Then his left eyelid flickered down in an unmistakeable wink and she caught back the sudden laughter.
‘Now then, what is the state of your dance card, Lady Northam?’ the Duchess asked. ‘Because mine is empty. Cal, darling, which of mine do you want? You may not have more than two. Jared, you must ask me for at least one, to save me the embarrassment of an empty card.’
Guin blinked at the Duchess who was teasing Augustus now about his reluctance to dance. And other men were joining their group and asking for dances from both the Duchess and from her, respectable married men who had never asked Guin before. She suspected that was because their wives had disapproved of her and had decided that she was planning to be a Wicked Widow before long.
‘There is a good table over there, I will save it for us.’ The Duke cut diagonally across the dance floor, empty just now with the dancing not yet begun.
The Duchess tucked her hand through Guin’s arm. ‘You will join us won’t you, Lady Northam? Oh look, there are my Mama and Step Papa.’ She waved and an older version of her gilded beauty waved bac
k. ‘Theirs was a famous love match,’ she confided as they made their way across to the grouping of chairs against the wall, set around a small table and with a perfect view of the dance floor. ‘It is hopelessly embarrassing having people sigh over them, even now.
‘There.’ The Duchess settled herself, patted the chair next to her. ‘We are going to be great friends. You must call me Sophie and you are Guinevere, I think? Such a lovely name.’
