the employ of her late husband long before Hollis had married him. And since her dear Percy’s death a little more than four years ago, Donovan had become everything that her late husband had been to her.
Well...except her lover.
He would never be her lover.
Not that Hollis wanted him to be her lover—she didn’t, she could never, because of Percy—but more importantly, because Donovan didn’t want her to be his. In fact, in recent weeks, she’d begun to suspect he’d taken a lover. What else could explain his fine mood?
Hollis sipped the toddy he’d made. It was perfect. “I remember my mother made my father toddies when the weather was bitterly cold. It’s funny, the things I remember. I can’t really recall her voice any longer, but I remember the toddies.” She wondered what she would remember about Percy. He, too, was fading away. She glanced at Donovan. “Do you remember your mother?”
“I do.” He smiled fondly. “She was a beauty, my mum.”
“She must have been—look at you.”
Donovan chuckled and shook his head.
“How long has she been gone?”
“I don’t know that she is.” He shrugged. “I left home and I’ve not seen her again.” He turned his gaze to the fire and said no more.
Hollis really knew very little about Donovan’s past and she’d learned early in her marriage not to ask. All she knew for certain was that Donovan and Percy had been childhood friends. The only thing Percy had ever said about Donovan was that he was the most loyal friend he’d ever had. Shortly after Percy’s father had died, he’d hired Donovan, employing him first as a valet, and then as their “butler” of sorts. Donovan wasn’t like any other butler Hollis had ever known. He was a man of many skills and talents and interests, and the least of all those was the proper way to set a supper table.
When Percy died, Hollis had dismissed half the staff. She didn’t need so many people to care for just her, and honestly, at the time, she wasn’t certain what her financial circumstances would be without Percy. “I’ll go,” Donovan had said to her one evening. “Say the word, madam, and I’ll go. I’ll do whatever you need.”
Hollis had been surprised and alarmed by his offer. She couldn’t imagine being without Percy and Donovan. She’d never contemplated dismissing him, knowing what his friendship had meant to her husband, and all that he took care of in her home. She’d refused his offer and their friendship had grown and deepened in the years since. She understood why Percy had cherished Donovan’s friendship—the man would lay down his life for his friends, and he would for Hollis.
But it wasn’t until two years after Percy’s death that Hollis understood what Percy had meant to Donovan. Percy had been able to protect Donovan in ways he couldn’t protect himself.
It was odd to feel such deep friendship and not know much about Donovan’s past. She looked at him now, his head tilted back against the chair, his eyes closed. “When was the last time you saw your mother?”
Donovan opened his eyes. “I was fifteen years old.” He sat up, scrubbed his face with one hand, then smiled at her. “Have you told me everything about the ball?”
“Did I tell you about the ballroom? You’ve never seen anything as grand,” she said wistfully.
“I’ve no doubt of it.”
She told him about the palace and its gilded finishes, the enormous chandeliers. She told him about the food and the many colorful costumes, of the sheer number of people who had attended.
She saved the best for last. She told him that she’d met the most curious man she’d ever encountered in her life.
“In what way?”
“He’s curt.”
“As curt as Mr. Shoreham?”
“Twice over.”
“Remarkable. What else?”
“He’s as unhelpful as Mr. Kettle.”
“Impossible,” Donovan said. “Tell me.”
Hollis told him how she’d first encountered him at the gates of St. James. And then again at the tea, and then at the ball. She told him how she’d coerced Mr. Brendan into dancing, and how he’d raced away from her afterward, and worse, how the peacock had witnessed it all.
Donovan laughed roundly at that. “How does she manage to always be present?”
“It’s astonishing, isn’t it?” Hollis asked morosely. “There is something irregular about the gentleman, I fear. There can’t be a good reason that he watches King Maksim so closely.”
“Does he?” Donovan asked curiously. “Why do you suppose?”
“As I said to him, I think it’s because he is involved some way in plotting a coup.”
Donovan