Tempting the Footman (House of Devon #5) - Lauren Smith Page 0,30

sat in the chair he pulled out for her. “What is life like downstairs? I am so rarely allowed downstairs, even in my own home.”

He poured her a glass of wine and then one for himself. “It’s busy at most times. Chaotic, even. We have very little time to be still. Someone is almost always underfoot or in your way. The kitchen is always hot, but it smells wonderful most of the time. Tonight it smells like nutmeg and roasted pheasant.”

“That does sound rather lovely.” Venetia sipped her wine. “Do you sleep upstairs or down?”

“Footmen sleep in the basement of the house, my lady. I share a room with another footman, Benjamin.”

Venetia asked a dozen more questions about Adrian’s life before she came back to the question that mattered most to her.

“Will you tell me about your mother?”

Adrian stared into the depths of his wine goblet, deep in thought.

“She was kind and beautiful. She was a country squire’s daughter who became a governess when her family fell on hard times. She was hired by the Duke of Stratford to see to his two children.”

“Your half sister and half brother, Viscount Bainbridge and Lady Mowbray?”

He paused a moment. “Yes. Their mother died a year after my mother came to work there. My mother said the duke was brokenhearted. He had been devoted to his duchess, but after her death he sought comfort in my mother’s bed. When she learned she was with child, he sent her north. He gave us money every month, but I gained employment at sixteen to support her should the duke stop sending money. It was better that I should be able to support us both, but I only ever managed odd jobs or occasional work in a tavern. There were plenty of apprenticeships, but they wish for boys to start young, around thirteen, and those contracts bind you to your master in indentured servitude. I couldn’t do that.”

Venetia wanted to touch Adrian, to ease some of his pain, but she dared not show such compassion lest he mistake it for pity. Men had their pride, and she would not wound his.

“Your mother sounds wonderful.”

“She was. She taught the local schoolchildren for eighteen years. She improved the lives of so many there.” His smile was impossibly soft and sad all at once. It was clear that he had loved her deeply, but even the good memories brought him pain. “Even the local gentry sent their children to her. I sometimes think that, had she been a man, she would have been destined for something wonderful, a career as an engineer or an architect. Fate is cruel to brilliant women.”

Venetia set her fork down as she looked at him. “You believe that women are capable of brilliance?”

“Capable? Certainly. If working downstairs has taught me anything, it’s that women are just as strong, just as clever and hardworking, if not more so, than many men.”

For a moment Venetia held her breath, suddenly unsure of herself.

“Adrian . . . if you were to marry, would you have an equal marriage?”

“An equal marriage?” Those amber eyes of his warmed her all over as she became the sole focus of his attention. “How do you mean?”

“How would you treat your wife?”

“With love and compassion, of course. But I expect you mean something more.”

“What of matters of the home? Of finance or career?”

“She would certainly be consulted on any decision I made. I see marriage as a partnership, and for it to work well, it requires trust and communication from both parties.”

“You would not subjugate her in any way?”

Adrian’s eyes softened, and he leaned forward across the table toward her. “I’ve seen homes run that way before. It’s as if the husband and wife live separate lives and are almost unaware of each other, merely residing in the same building. That is not a marriage I would care to have.”

Venetia placed her palm in his, and he curled his fingers around hers. His thumb moved in a soothing pattern over her inner wrist, and her pulse pounded in excitement beneath that caress.

“I was raised by a strong, loving woman,” Adrian continued. “The last thing I would do is crush a woman’s spirit by not giving her the freedom she deserves. A man and wife should rely on each other, and not just for support. A marriage should be a partnership of equals.” His voice was soft and held an unsung promise of what he would give the woman he would someday call his