Tempting the Footman (House of Devon #5) - Lauren Smith Page 0,7
to him.
“It is no trouble, my lady,” Adrian replied quickly as he realized he had been staring at her and hadn’t responded.
The young woman walked past him into the house, leaving him with visions of wildflowers and stolen kisses in the gardens at twilight. Lord, what would it be like to kiss a woman like her? He sighed softly, his gaze still on her as she vanished from view.
“Adrian, it would be best to put your eyes back inside your head,” Mr. Reeves warned, but there was no real bite to the butler’s tone. He knew Adrian had never broken his code of conduct as a servant of the house of Devon, and no matter how lovely that young lady was, he wouldn’t start now.
But that didn’t stop a man from indulging in a few wicked daydreams.
Gwen greeted a lovely woman in her midforties as she and Venetia were shown into the drawing room. “Marrian!”
“Gwen!” The Duchess of Devon met Venetia and her grandmother at the door with a warm hug. Lady Devon’s blue eyes were warm as she held Venetia’s hands. “You look so much like your mother. Heavens, I miss her dearly.”
“As do I, Your Grace.” Venetia had met Lady Devon only once as a child. Her mother and the duchess had spent much time together socially over the years, but Venetia had been too young to participate in such activities herself.
“You are such a dear to invite us,” Gwen replied. “And if I am honest, you rather saved us.”
Venetia blanched at her grandmother’s open admission.
“What’s all this now?” Lady Devon gestured for them to sit on the settee near the fireplace.
“Gran, Lady Devon doesn’t need to hear about our—”
Gwen tapped her cane on the floor. “Nonsense. She certainly does need to hear it. She’s the one woman in all of England I trust to help us find you a suitable husband.”
Venetia was ready to perish on the spot with mortification.
“Oh? Are we husband hunting?” Lady Devon grinned. “This is delightful. Venetia, my dear, your mother had such wonderful hopes for you to make a brilliant match. It was such a tragedy that she did not live long enough to see you wed.”
“Thank you, Lady Devon, but I am afraid that the notion of my marrying is a point of contention between myself and my grandmother at the moment. I would prefer to take my time in choosing a husband.”
“It certainly is not a point of contention,” Gwen grumbled. “Marrian, tell her that I am right. My scheming grandson wishes to gain access to Venetia’s assets by marrying her off to one of his friends. I won’t allow it.”
Lady Devon gasped and turned to Venetia. “Is this true?”
“Well, yes, but I told Gran that no one can force me to marry.”
At this Lady Devon and Gwen exchanged looks, then turned back to her. “If the world were a just place, you would be right. But this is a world made for men. A determined man can force you to marry, and should you claim foul afterward, such a man might have you declared mad and send you away. Unfortunately, your safest course of action is to marry someone of your choosing, someone you like and trust.”
Gwen harrumphed in agreement. “Exactly. We need to find a strapping, handsome young buck who can throw Patrick out on his ear if he even breathes disrespectfully around Venetia.”
Lady Devon chuckled. “I’m not sure who would fit that description, but the night is young.” She rang a bell for tea, and a footman entered, placing the tea tray on the table beside Lady Devon.
Normally Venetia would not look at servants. It wasn’t out of a sense of superiority, but rather deference to their need to be unseen. But she couldn’t help but notice that he was the same dark-haired footman who had assisted her down from the coach. She had apologized to him for her grandmother’s conduct, and he had held her hand a moment too long.
His eyes were a delightful shade of brown and hazel that reminded her of amber. He was devastatingly handsome, with a strong chin, and his lashes, too long for a man, made him seem almost pretty. He was broad-shouldered and impossibly tall, at least a foot and a half above her. Gran would have called him an Adonis.
His eyes were downcast as he set the tray on the table. He was so close that she could smell leather and something softer upon him, a bit of sandalwood