Duke Looks Like a Groomsman - Valerie Bowman Page 0,5
Kendall informed us of his search for a wife, but if it helps both of us, all the better, I say. We will truly have to behave as servants, however. We’ll have to wait on the guests and do all the tasks servants must do.”
“Hmm. I do quite like the idea of spying going on under my roof.” Clayton took another long draught of ale. “Gives the whole affair a bit of intrigue. And since I haven’t been a soldier or served His Majesty otherwise, I feel it’s my duty to say yes to this ruse. Not to mention my love of an experiment. Will you do it, Kendall?”
Kendall hefted his mug to his lips and drained it. Then he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Now that Bell’s doing it with me, how can I refuse?”
Rhys accepted yet another new mug of ale from the barmaid and flipped a coin into the air for her tip. He gave her a flirtatious grin before turning his attention back to the conversation. “I, for one, am so interested in seeing such a situation play out, not only will I attend to watch the spectacle, I will also settle a large sum on the outcome as to whether you two can pull this off. Care to bet me?” He gave them both his most competitive stare.
Bell rolled his eyes. “Everything’s a bet with you, Worth.”
“Perhaps, but you must admit, this is a particularly tempting bet.” Rhys lifted his chin toward the marquess. “Five hundred pounds say you are both outed by a keen-eyed mama within a sennight.”
“I’ll take that bet!” Clayton declared, pointing a finger in the air. “You’ll be attending as a guest, I presume, Worthington.”
Kendall’s snort of laughter interrupted Rhys’s reply. “Of course, he’s attending as a guest. Our mate Worth here could never pass for a footman.” He shook his head sympathetically toward the duke. “You couldn’t last one night serving others, I’m afraid.”
Rhys gathered himself up and straightened his shoulders. “I take offense to that. If you two sops can do it, surely I can.”
Clayton blew air into his cheeks and shook his head, not quite meeting Rhys’s gaze. “Hmm. I’m not exactly certain I agree with that, old chap.”
Rhys crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his friend. “You truly don’t think I could do it?”
“No,” Clayton admitted, looking slightly sheepish. “Not if you actually have to fill the role of a servant and do real chores. No.”
Rhys’s gaze swung to Bell. “You don’t think I can do it either?” Was this truly what his friends thought of him? He knew he had a reputation to live down, but they didn’t think him capable of working as a servant for so much as a fortnight?
Bell shook his head. “Not a chance. Apologies, Your Grace, but you’re far too used to being waited upon to wait on anyone else.”
“But that’s how I know how to do it properly,” Rhys shot back, entirely disgruntled.
Kendall snorted. “I’m afraid seeing one serve and actually serving are two entirely different things.”
Rhys’s eyes widened. That hypocrite. “You’re a bloody earl for Christ’s sake. Why do you think you can serve?”
“I may be an earl but I’m no stranger to hard work. I spent years in the Navy doing chores like picking oakum and deworming hardtack. And those two tasks were pleasant compared to some of my other tasks,” Kendall replied.
Rhys slapped a palm on the tabletop. The mugs bounced. “Fine. One thousand pounds says I can make it through the entire fortnight as a servant too. Or at least I can last longer than either of you.”
“Now who is being mad?” Clayton asked, waggling his eyebrows at Rhys.
“I’m quite serious.” Rhys’s jaw was locked. If he was anything, he was competitive, and he was never more competitive than when someone believed he couldn’t do something. The thought incensed him. He’d win this bet if it was the last thing he did. “One thousand pounds, gentlemen. Who will take the bet?”
“I will,” all three called in unison.
Chapter One
Viscount Clayton’s Country Estate,
Devon, August 1814
Thank Christ he’d finally escaped the house. Mrs. Cotswold, Clayton’s housekeeper, could be a frightening woman when she chose to be, and it appeared that she chose to be a great deal of the time.
The older woman had been tasked with ensuring the three noblemen were fit to serve in Clayton’s household. She’d begun their training in London and had continued it here in the countryside. If