Tempting the Footman (House of Devon #5) - Lauren Smith Page 0,8

perhaps. His proximity sent her blood humming.

The footman straightened and backed away. For a brief moment, his eyes flicked toward her, as though he wanted to steal a glance and didn’t expect her to be watching him. The flare of heat in his eyes answered the call of her own.

That single ephemeral connection nearly made her gasp. It was only by the grace of God that neither Lady Devon nor Gran noticed.

Baffled, Venetia tried to focus on the conversation, but all she could think about was how she’d never felt like this around any man before. It was one of the reasons she’d so easily dismissed desire and love as a component of marriage. Because until that moment, she’d never felt such attraction before.

This stirring of hope, so new, like a fledgling bird, had nowhere to go but to plummet to its death upon the ground. This perfect Adonis was a footman, after all. A domestic servant in the employ of Lady Devon. Stealing him away as a husband would be considered a cardinal sin. The unfortunate truth was that he was lowborn. Though she despised that phrase immensely, and would be content to tell society to hang if they dared to voice their opinions on her choice of husband, any children they had would be subjected to the cruelties of others whispering about their parents.

But even thinking of this was silly. Venetia was still hoping to avoid matrimony if at all possible, and a fine pair of shoulders and a face to make angels weep was not something she should be obsessing over. Her father had raised her to be a strong, independent woman, and he had created the financial trust to protect her as best he could.

The truth was, once she was married, most of her money would belong to her husband, for good or ill. Venetia could not ever imagine trusting any man with that power over her and Gran’s future.

Lady Devon tapped her chin in thought before pouring their cups of tea. “I believe Lord Essex might make a good match. He’s twenty-nine, dark-haired, stunning green eyes, a bit brooding perhaps—but oh wait, he has a mistress, some French creature. No, that won’t do.”

“Best to stay away from any man with a mistress,” Gran added. “I want a loyal man for Venetia. She won’t take to just any randy young buck who makes a good ride. She needs steadiness, faithfulness.”

Venetia was about to interrupt and tell Lady Devon that Gran didn’t make all of her decisions, when they were all distracted by an odd noise.

There was a choking sound outside the open drawing room door, and the afternoon sunlight illuminated the shadow of the footman lingering in his appropriate place, within hearing distance should his mistress need him.

Gwen paused at the choking sound but then continued. “As I was saying, looks aren’t enough. So, what young men do you have in mind whom Venetia might sample this week?”

Lady Devon burst into laughter. “Oh heavens, Gwen, I always forget how much I adore you. But Venetia cannot sample men—they aren’t fruit tarts. She must study them, converse with them, see if there is a natural attraction. Sampling makes it sound as though you expect her to tuck them away in the alcoves after dinner for stolen kisses so she might compare them later on.”

Gwen played with her cane. “That might be yet what the child needs. She’s never been suitably courted. A kiss goes quite a way to tell how a man might perform his marital duties. Will he sweep her off her feet? Bore her with a chaste and brotherly kiss? Or slobber over her like some odious hound?”

Again, the poor footman outside was choking, and this time it was so distracting that Gwen stood.

“You there, footman. Come in here and have a cup of tea before you perish.” Gwen turned to Lady Devon. “That’s all right with you, isn’t it? The poor man’s face is bright red, and I do believe he needs it.”

Lady Devon turned to look over her shoulder toward the doorway. “Adrian, do come in and have some tea if you need it.”

The footman, Adrian, slipped back into the room, red-faced and still coughing as he hastily collected his drink and tried to dash back into the hall, but Gwen was too fast. She thrust her cane out, rapping at his chest and bringing him to a halt.

“See, this is what I’m looking for, Marrian. A lovely, handsome young buck, but a