Tempting the Footman (House of Devon #5) - Lauren Smith Page 0,36

was pressed to his shoulder, and one of her arms was curled around his waist. He wanted to stay here forever. But he couldn’t. He had to go. He had to get back downstairs before any of the other staff realized he hadn’t slept in his own room last night.

Last night was a mistake; he would be terminated immediately if anyone found out. But he couldn’t regret what he had done, not with her. Yet his livelihood was at stake, and he might end up paying for the rest of his life for one night with her.

He lifted Venetia’s arm, slipped out of bed, and donned his clothes. The clock in the hall chimed four times. It was early enough that he could get safely downstairs without being seen. He rolled up the bloody cloth and carried it into the corridor with him. The house was still dark and quiet, and he moved briskly and almost soundlessly down the back stairs to the servants’ hall, trying to look as though he was about his usual chores and not sneaking away from a lady’s bedchamber. If no one saw him, everything would be all right.

The scullery maid had already lit the fire in the kitchen. He tossed the cloth onto it and used a poker to push it deep into the flames. He lingered a few moments, making sure the cloth was burned sufficiently. Disposing of that damning evidence took a weight off his mind.

When he opened the door to his bedchamber, he cursed. Benjamin was up, dressed, and staring at him with anxious eyes.

“Close the door,” Benjamin said, his solemn tone not boding well.

Adrian did and leaned back against it.

“Where did you sleep?”

“Not here,” Adrian said cautiously.

“Lady Venetia.” Benjamin’s reply was not a question. Adrian said nothing. “Damnation, Adrian. If Mr. Reeves finds out . . .”

“I know. He won’t.”

“You can’t know that. The man has eyes in the back of his head. It takes only one night that you sleep in, one moment where a guest or a member of the staff sees you.”

The confidence Adrian had been feeling was punctured effortlessly by Benjamin’s words. But even though he tried to convince himself that he would stay away from Venetia’s bed, he knew that if she wanted him, he’d come.

“I know, Benjamin, but I cannot deny her. She owns me.”

“I know what part of you she owns,” Benjamin said dryly.

“I am not under the thrall of my loins, Benjamin. She owns my heart, my spirit—you understand?”

Benjamin sighed heavily. “I understand that you believe that. But you’re going to need help—my help—if you don’t want to be caught.”

Relief swept through him. Benjamin was a good man, a good friend.

“I would gladly accept any help.”

Benjamin frowned. “Just remember that I’m sharing in the risk and getting none of the reward. You’d better change, or you will be late.” He patted Adrian’s shoulder as he passed by and left the room.

Adrian hurried into his livery and caught up with Benjamin to begin his daily duties. He would leave it up to Venetia to summon him again.

By midmorning, a hunting party had been announced as the day’s primary activity, and Adrian had no chance to see Venetia. Every footman was required for such an event. He ran about the front lawn of the house, dodging prancing horses and handing goblets of wine to the men who sat on horseback.

Lord Devon, Mr. Sherman, and the other gentlemen all looked eager for the hunt. The hounds darted about the pebbled road, barking in excitement. A trio of ladies wearing fine riding habits joined the men and mounted their own horses before the hunt began.

The horses took off across the lawn toward the woods. The foxhounds led the way, baying in excitement. Adrian gave a sigh of relief as he and Benjamin carried their empty trays of glasses back inside. Mr. Reeves met them at the servants’ entrance, ready with their next tasks.

“Lady Devon is having tea with the rest of the ladies in the picture gallery. Freshen up so that you don’t smell of the stables, and then go and wait upon them.”

“Yes, Mr. Reeves,” they answered in unison. He and Benjamin changed their coats, brushed the dust off their breeches, and headed up to the long picture gallery.

The gilded room was filled almost floor to ceiling with pictures of the noble house of Devon’s ancestors. He halted at the sight of Venetia standing among the beautifully dressed ladies, who were all gossiping. She stilled