Kisses and Scandal (A Survivors Series Anthology ) - Shana Galen Page 0,7
him serving as a footman in a great house, if she’d still been alive. She’d told him often enough to stay away from the rabble and make something of himself.
Would that he’d listened to his ma sooner.
His door opened and he sat, feeling guilty that he wasn’t yet dressed. William, almost out of breath, stuck his head in. “Letter for you.”
James tempered his surprise and schooled his face as he rose and took the proffered paper.
“Who’s it from?” William asked.
“Me ma,” James answered, mentally crossing himself at using his mother in a lie.
“Oh.” William’s brows lowered as his interest waned. “You’ll be ready soon? The guests should be arriving any minute.”
“I’ll be ready.”
William closed the door and James waited until he heard his footsteps retreat before he opened the letter. He didn’t recognize the handwriting right away, so his gaze skipped to the end of the short missive where it was signed P. Birr.
It was from Patrick then. Now he was a man James had no trouble forgetting, though Patrick made sure it was never for long.
Time’s grown short. Meet me at the Blue Boar in two nights.
James would have liked to throw the letter in the fire and forget it, but if he didn’t meet Patrick, Patrick and his minion, Sean, would come and find him. That would put all three of them in jeopardy and Lady Philomena too. After all, she was the reason Patrick wanted to meet.
James tossed the letter in the fire anyway. He didn’t want William to read it and ask questions. Then he finished dressing and made his way to the kitchen where the cook was bellowing orders. The first footman was already there, and he ordered James to fetch the necessary serving pieces. The next hour was a blur of running here and there until finally the family had gone in to dinner and it was time to serve. All of the food for the first course had already been laid on the table, and James stood on one side of the room while Mr. Balcolm, the first footman, stood on the other, and Mr. Caffold, the butler, oversaw everything.
As the family entered, James and the other servants stared straight ahead, pretending to see and hear nothing. The guests did not note the men either. Instead, they continued their conversation from earlier as they took their seats and began passing dishes. James kept his head high, his eyes unseeing, but he still caught a glimpse of golden hair piled high and the smooth slope of pale shoulders. Lady Philomena’s back was to him, but he was certain she knew he was there.
He watched for Mr. Caffold’s nods to indicate he should fetch a dish from one end of the table and present it to a lady or gentleman at the other end. When not fetching and carrying, he returned to his position at the side of the room to await the signal to clear for the second course.
James kept his eyes on a distant point near Mr. Caffold, but he couldn’t stop his ears from hearing Lady Philomena’s voice when she spoke or the light sound of her laughter. He could tell it was forced laughter. Knoxwood made an effort to amuse, but it often fell flat. Not that James thought he could do much better. He doubted he would have more than three words to say to any of these nobs, save Phil, but he’d stood through enough dinners to know what was and was not amusing.
Finally, the signal to clear came, and he played his role then returned to the kitchen for the next course, presumably a fish. And so it went until the dessert course. When James entered, he heard the conversation had turned to the planned trip to London in two days. The ladies discussed the best shops and the latest fashions, none of which interested him much as he wouldn’t be needed. The town house had a full staff and only the ladies’ maids and other essential staff would accompany the duchess and her daughter. He would stay behind and be ordered by the housekeeper to assist with all of the housekeeping tasks she wanted done but which she felt would inconvenience the family too much if undertaken when they were at home.
Mr. Caffold gave the nod, and James fetched a dessert to bring to Viscount Knoxwood. It was some sort of bread or pastry with a sweet red sauce that must be drizzled on top. James held