Tempting the Footman (House of Devon #5) - Lauren Smith Page 0,43

to him. Leaving Hartland, leaving his friends—it was going to be harder than he ever thought.

“Yes,” Adrian answered slowly, doing his best to keep emotion out of his voice. “Mrs. Hamill was furious that I did not accept her gracious offer to bed her, and now she has her revenge.” Adrian had no desire to hold his tongue now. It wasn’t as though things could get worse. He’d already been terminated.

“It’s a bloody unfair business.” Benjamin looked furious.

“It is. But life is unfair, at least to our kind.” Adrian tucked the handkerchief safely in his bag and headed toward the door.

Benjamin held out his hand. “Write to me. Let me know where you’ve settled.”

“Yes, of course,” Adrian promised.

He left his room and found that many of the servants were there to see him off, including Mr. Reeves.

Mrs. Webster embraced him. “Good luck, lad.”

Phillip shook Adrian’s hand, echoing his mother’s sentiments.

The coach was waiting out front. Adrian climbed onto the top seat, pulling his cloak tightly about him as it began to rain. He hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye to Venetia, but that was for the best. They had both been living in a dream this last week. Better to simply vanish and leave behind only golden-hued memories. He would carry her in his heart forever, and that would have to be enough. Memories of her sunny hair, the sound of her laugh, the way she lost herself when she was reading aloud to him, the way she looked into his eyes with such adoration that for one brief week he had felt truly, deeply, earnestly loved.

Venetia watched the raindrops trail down the windowpane of the drawing room and sighed. Mr. Sherman and a few others were playing a game of faro, and some ladies, including her grandmother, were conversing in another corner of the room. The outdoor picnic planned for today had been canceled due to the poor weather. While Venetia enjoyed plenty of indoor activities, she had been looking forward to being outside for a bit.

It was silly, but she’d been hoping to steal away with Adrian in the garden hedges, perhaps steal a few kisses, and watch the sun light up his face. Whenever he was alone with her, he opened up in the most marvelous way that left her breathless. She longed to see that part of him again, to see him playful and happy—and hers.

A nagging feeling pulled her from her daydreams. She glanced about the room and noticed that Mrs. Hamill was watching her with a smug look on her face. Lord Devon came into the room, and Lady Devon excused herself to speak with him in hushed tones. The duchess’s gaze flicked to Venetia and then back to her husband. Mrs. Hamill got up from her seat and came to sit beside Venetia. The woman’s catlike smile made the hairs on Venetia’s neck stand on end.

“Such a pity,” the other woman said. Her tone conveyed an acidic victory that distressed Venetia.

“What is?” she asked.

“That handsome footman, the tall one with the dark hair? Lord Devon sent him packing.”

At first the words didn’t quite register in Venetia’s mind. “Sent him packing?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Hamill replied with a sharp smile. “He’s been intimate with one of the guests.” She leveled Venetia with a pointed stare. Nausea churned in Venetia’s stomach. “I just had to inform His Grace when I saw the man’s indiscretion. He left a short while ago.”

Venetia’s mind ran at a frantic pace. Adrian had been let go? He was already gone? Fury and fear dueled within her, leaving her unsure of what to do, until at last anger triumphed. Venetia reached for her cold, abandoned cup of tea, stood, and without a word poured the contents on Mrs. Hamill’s head. The woman shrieked and flapped her arms like a soaked chicken.

“Why, you—”

“Careful, Mrs. Hamill,” Venetia warned. “Or I will tell everyone in this room why you went running to Lord Devon about Mr. Montague.” She tsked. “Throwing hairbrushes like a spoiled child.” Mrs. Hamill hissed like an angry cat before she flounced from the room.

Her grandmother had risen from her chair at the sign of the argument. “Venetia, dear, one is supposed to drink tea, not pour it over the heads of simpering fools. Though I do understand the impulse.”

“I’m sorry, Gran. It slipped.”

Gwen gave a thin smile. “Did it now?”

Mr. Sherman glanced between Venetia and where his sister had gone with open concern.

Venetia crossed the room, aware of the entire assembly