Tempting the Footman (House of Devon #5) - Lauren Smith Page 0,27

more quietly.

“Yes. There should be surprises in one’s life. Predictability has its comforts, but no real excitement.” He collected the tray and headed for the door. “I’ll be back shortly to escort you to dinner in the upstairs library.”

Lady Venetia smiled at him. “Thank you.” Damned if his knees didn’t buckle just a bit at that. It made her entire being simply glow.

Remember you are nothing to her, can never be anything to her.

And with that sobering thought, he descended belowstairs.

Gwen waited for the handsome footman to retreat with his tea tray before she stepped out of her hiding place. She had been delighted to hear Venetia’s laughter and teasing with the young man as they enjoyed each other’s company. Gwen had wanted to see how her granddaughter was faring and had hidden herself in the alcove next to a very grim marble bust of some Grecian fellow as she listened to Venetia and the servant.

This was what she’d hoped her dear Venetia would be experiencing: joy and delight with a man. The best husbands were the ones who could make their wives’ hearts light with laughter. Marriages all had their challenges, but they should also bring joy to the couple.

Gwen paused at Venetia’s partially open door and heard her granddaughter humming softly. For a moment, Gwen wondered if she had made a dangerous error in putting Venetia in the path of that attractive footman. What if she became attached?

No, it was all going to work out perfectly. Venetia would discover what mattered most in a husband, and she would follow her heart and find a worthy gentleman. And that sod Patrick could bloody well hang if he tried to interfere with Venetia’s happiness again.

Tapping her knuckles on Venetia’s door, Gwen called out, “It’s me, my dear.”

“Oh, Gran, come in,” Venetia called.

Gwen pushed the door open and saw her granddaughter’s glowing face. She looked much better after some rest and entertainment.

“How is your ankle?”

“Still swollen, but I have been rubbing it, which seems to relieve some of the tension. I can move about now. Not too fast, but if I need to, I am able.” She wore a pair of fur-lined slippers and a lilac gown that favored her soft honey-gold hair. She looked enchanting. No wonder the poor footman had been in such good spirits, with this enchanting vision of Venetia here to make him smile.

“You seem in much better spirits,” Gwen said.

“I am. Adrian is wonderful. He had to polish a teapot, so I read to him from The Duke’s Dark Son, that Gothic novel I purchased last week.”

“Did you say he polished a teapot? Please tell me he actually polished a teapot. I cannot deal with euphemisms for scandalous behavior today.”

“Yes, it was an actual teapot. You didn’t think we . . . ? Oh.” She covered her mouth and almost laughed, but thought better of it.

“Good, I wouldn’t want to think he was convincing you to tickle his piffle,” Gwen muttered.

“Tickle his . . . piffle?” Venetia did laugh at this, and Gwen couldn’t help but chuckle with her. “What, pray tell, is a piffle?”

“You know . . .” Gwen waved airily below her waist. “The male organ . . . as it were.”

“Piffle,” Venetia repeated, almost choking on her laughter. “Heavens! Gran, no wonder he chokes around you. Please never let him hear you call his . . . part . . . a piffle.”

“Very well. I shall keep that to myself.” Technically the word piffle meant nonsense, but she’d heard a man at a ball once mention the word in such a context, and it had delighted her ever since. It was a wonderfully apt description.

“Adrian is a good companion, and I like to hear his laugh. Such a lovely sound,” Venetia confessed. “I don’t think he laughs much. Not because he doesn’t enjoy it, but because life in service must be very trying. I hadn’t honestly given it much thought, but he must be very busy and lonely all at the same time. And it isn’t fair because—” Venetia suddenly halted her speech.

Gwen fixed a sharp eye on Venetia. “What isn’t fair?”

“I cannot say—it would be breaking his confidence.”

“I see. Well, I hope he proves worthy of your secret keeping,” Gwen replied. “You will be upstairs tonight for dinner?”

“I think so. It would be embarrassing to hobble about in front of all those prospective suitors.”

“True enough. I heard Mr. Sherman paid his respects today.”

“Oh, yes. He was most obliging.”

“I hope it was a