Tempting the Footman (House of Devon #5) - Lauren Smith Page 0,23

up to it, I would like to sit with you in the gardens or on the back terrace later,” Mr. Sherman said hopefully.

“Thank you. I would enjoy that.”

“Well, I should leave you to rest.” He bashfully smiled as he rose from his chair and took his leave. Phoebe sat in a corner, tending to a tear in Venetia’s blue gown.

“He seems nice, my lady.”

“He is, isn’t he?” She held back how she truly felt, however. “Phoebe, could you have Adrian bring up some tea?”

“Of course.” Phoebe set the sewing aside and left, only to halt outside the door and bend down. She picked up something that lay by the door.

“My lady?” Phoebe said uncertainly as she carried in the most exquisite bouquet of flowers Venetia had ever seen. It put Mr. Sherman’s carefully raised hothouse flowers to shame.

“Oh my. Where did these come from?” She held out her hands, and Phoebe placed the bouquet in her arms. Venetia buried her face in the blooms. Red roses were tucked in the bouquet, along with dozens of stunning wildflowers. Pale-yellow primroses blended with bluebells, marigolds, scarlet pimpernels, and the brightly colored stems of pink lady’s-gloves. Their floral scent still held a touch of storms about them. These had come from the gardens in the field. A red satin ribbon was carefully tied around the stems, holding them together.

“They were on the floor, as if someone dropped them.” Phoebe stared at the flowers, a curious expression on her face.

“Could you find another vase for these?” Venetia asked. She felt a strange pull toward the wild blooms, as though if she let go of them she would lose something precious to her. She could not express this feeling in words, so until a vase could be found, she would hold on to them.

“I shall run down to the kitchens and have the footman bring your tea while I find another vase.”

“Thank you, Phoebe.” Venetia rose from her chair and winced as she hobbled over to the table and moved Mr. Sherman’s vase to the windowsill. She’d insisted that Mr. Sherman not give her the necklace that he’d brought. It was far too precious an item for her when she barely knew him. It was more suited for the announcement of an engagement, which neither of them had discussed. He’d wanted her to keep the jewelry, but she’d told him that the flowers were far more to her taste in gifts, and thankfully he hadn’t seemed upset by it. Mr. Sherman was quite a kind man. If only she felt about him the way she felt about Adrian, her future would be so clear.

Venetia sat back down in her chair, her hands still wrapped around the blooms. She breathed in the scent again and smiled as they made her think of Adrian. She had many more questions to ask him about men now that she’d had a chance to compare him to Mr. Sherman. Such as why he made her feel wild, lost, and breathless with excitement when Mr. Sherman did not. That was a most important question indeed.

6

“She’s asking for you,” Phoebe announced as she entered the servants’ dining room.

Adrian glanced up from polishing a silver teapot. “I must finish this first,” he replied quietly. He didn’t want to go up there and see her being courted by that gentleman. Nor did he want to see the flowers he’d spent so long picking and then foolishly abandoned on the floor like a sulking child. His actions made him feel like a coward, but he couldn’t go back up there and see her beaming from another man’s attentions, not when he’d held such a foolish hope that she might . . . Adrian banished the thought.

Phoebe stood in front of him, her stern expression softening. “She prefers yours.”

“Pardon?” Adrian focused back on the teapot, rubbing over-vigorously on a stubborn spot of tarnish.

“Your flowers. The ones I found outside my mistress’s room. I didn’t tell her they were yours, but she took to them right away, more so than Mr. Sherman’s.”

Adrian stilled. “She liked them?”

“She did, buried her face right in them and smiled. She sent me to fetch you for tea while I find another vase.”

Adrian’s smile faded a bit. “I need to finish this or Mr. Reeves will have my head.”

“Take it upstairs and work on it. Lady Venetia won’t mind.”

“Won’t mind watching a man earn his living?” Adrian grumbled. He was not normally a man to indulge in self-pity, but he couldn’t seem