Kisses and Scandal (A Survivors Series Anthology ) - Shana Galen Page 0,16
for his coat and gloves. He had to be certain to bend his knees every so often so his legs would not become stiff. He was soon shivering, but at least it wasn’t raining. The sun might be hidden behind clouds, but it could be worse.
The ladies had the curtains open so he might have bent low and looked inside. He wouldn’t have seen anything but the back of Phil’s head as she was most certainly facing forward. And he’d be chastised for the indiscretion too. He was to stand on the back and wait until he was needed. No matter that his toes were frozen and his legs tingled.
Finally, the carriage stopped at a posting house, and James jumped down. The ladies did not wish to step out, but he was able to move around and wake his legs and arms up. Then they were back on the road. By the time the ladies stopped for tea, sometime past noon, James’s head ached from the bouncing of the carriage and the wind in his face.
He drank his tea behind the posting house and watched while the others ate their bread and cheese. He’d tossed his aside hours ago, but as the others seemed fine after consuming theirs, he wished he’d kept it.
Too soon they were back on the road to London. The hours blended together, and as the ladies did not step out of the carriage again, he didn’t even have the opportunity of seeing Phil. Finally, long after dark had fallen, they arrived at a large town house in the center of Mayfair. James had been impressed by Southmeade Cottage when he’d first seen it, but he really had no other country houses to compare it to. But James had lived in London and Dublin, and this town house was impressive by city standards. He hadn’t known London had places that weren’t cramped and filthy. He hadn’t known there were streets where hay was strewn about to muffle the sound of the carriage wheels.
Of course, he did not enter by the front door. He opened the carriage door for the ladies and helped them down. The Town staff was waiting for them, and the underbutler directed him and the other servants toward the servants’ entrance. “What happened to Balcolm?” the underbutler asked.
“He was ill and Caffold sent me instead. I’m James Finnegan.”
“An Irishman?”
“As I live and breathe.”
The underbutler sniffed and walked away. James stood in the servants’ dining room, uncertain where to go or what to do next. He wanted to curl up on the floor by the fire.
“Don’t mind Fletchley,” a man said. James hadn’t seen him in the corner. “He’s always been an arse.”
James smiled. “Who are you?”
“Jarvis. I work in the mews. I should probably get back there as I imagine they’ll need help settling the horses.”
“Sure. Any idea where I can put my things and lie down for a bit?”
Jarvis nodded. “Go on up to the servants’ wing, and someone will see you settled.” He nodded toward a corridor. “The stairs are just there. Follow them all the way to the top.
“Thank you.”
James started up the stairs, passing the ground floor and the first floor, but pausing on the second floor. There he opened the door a crack and peered into the dim corridor. Maids rushed to and fro, carrying linens and pitchers of water. He spotted Miss Dawson, directing a footman carrying a trunk into a room toward the end. That must be Phil’s room then. James closed the door silently and continued upstairs.
Five
James was in London. Phil could hardly believe it when Caffold had announced that Henry Balcolm was ill and asked if James Finnegan would be an acceptable replacement. Caffold remarked that he knew the man was Irish, but he was always prompt and, except for the misstep at dinner with the viscount, adept at his job.
The duchess had looked up from the magazine she’d been perusing and seemed to consider. Phil tried not to stare at her mother. Instead, she had stared at the little pool of jam on her plate. Please. Please. Please.
“I suppose he will do,” her mother had said.
And then a half hour later, James had handed her into the coach. They hadn’t even locked eyes, but it had been delicious to be so close to him again. She was afraid her cheeks burned as she remembered the way he’d touched her and how she’d reacted the night before.