by Shana Galen
James smiled. “Who are you?”
“Jarvis. I work in the mews. I should probably get back there as I imagine they’ll need help settling the horses.”
“Sure. Any idea where I can put my things and lie down for a bit?”
Jarvis nodded. “Go on up to the servants’ wing, and someone will see you settled.” He nodded toward a corridor. “The stairs are just there. Follow them all the way to the top.
“Thank you.”
James started up the stairs, passing the ground floor and the first floor, but pausing on the second floor. There he opened the door a crack and peered into the dim corridor. Maids rushed to and fro, carrying linens and pitchers of water. He spotted Miss Dawson, directing a footman carrying a trunk into a room toward the end. That must be Phil’s room then. James closed the door silently and continued upstairs.
Five
James was in London. Phil could hardly believe it when Caffold had announced that Henry Balcolm was ill and asked if James Finnegan would be an acceptable replacement. Caffold remarked that he knew the man was Irish, but he was always prompt and, except for the misstep at dinner with the viscount, adept at his job.
The duchess had looked up from the magazine she’d been perusing and seemed to consider. Phil tried not to stare at her mother. Instead, she had stared at the little pool of jam on her plate. Please. Please. Please.
“I suppose he will do,” her mother had said.
And then a half hour later, James had handed her into the coach. They hadn’t even locked eyes, but it had been delicious to be so close to him again. She was afraid her cheeks burned as she remembered the way he’d touched her and how she’d reacted the night before.
Now she knew her cheeks burned because she could see them in the dressing table mirror. Fortunately, Dawson had already taken Phil’s hair down and was busy preparing the chamber so she could retire. Normally, after such a long journey, she collapsed into bed and slept like the dead. Tonight she was far too excited at the prospect of seeing James again in the morning to fall asleep quickly or easily.
But she did not see him in the morning.
After breakfast, at which he did not serve, she was bundled off to the modiste. Madame Renauld was new in Town and her fashions were the talk of the ton. “We were fortunate to secure this appointment,” the duchess said when Phil complained that it was a bit early to be out and about. “Madame Renauld is so busy with her current clients, she is not accepting new ones. But when I mentioned we would be dressing you, she found time in her schedule. And why wouldn’t she, as you always show any dress to advantage.”
“Thank you, Mama. I do hope she won’t insist on dressing me in all white as Madame Delamode did. I know it is the fashion, but it makes me look dreadfully pale.”
The duchess nodded. “Madame Renauld is dressing Lady Daphne, and her coloring is similar to yours. I hear she looks brilliant, even with all the bows she insists upon.” The duchess leaned closer. “Between you and I, I do not believe Madame Delamode was actually French. I heard she was born in Yorkshire, but when she arrived in Town, she took a new name and an accent to go with it.”
Once at Madame Renauld’s shop, Phil was able to forget James for a little while as the dressmaker discussed ideas and colors with her for over an hour. Phil thought that Madame Renauld’s cranberry dress complemented her dark skin and eyes very well, and if she did half as well with Phil’s wardrobe, Phil would be pleased.
Of course, there was more shopping to be done and calls to make. By the time they returned to the town house, it was almost time to ride in the park. Phil declined, telling her mother she was far too weary—no wonder, as she had not slept well the night before—and watched as her mother rode in the direction of Hyde Park. Clearly, the duchess still had plenty of vigor left in her.
“Dawson, I think I shall lie down for an hour,” Phil told her maid when her mother was out of sight and she was alone in the foyer or Mayne House.
“Shall I help you to undress, my lady?”
“No need. Just wake me if I am not already up when it is time to dress for dinner.” She climbed the steps and started toward her chamber, but a movement at the end of the corridor caught her eye. The door to the servants’ stairs was ajar, and a dark head poked through.
“James,” she breathed, then quickly glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one had heard her.
She didn’t see any servants and as she walked toward the door, she continued to check. Finally, she grasped the handle. James stepped back and she swung it open then closed it behind her.
“Ye shouldn’t be in here,” he said.
She wrapped her arms around him. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since we arrived last night.”
His arms came around her waist and he touched his forehead to hers. “The staff here prefers to serve, so I have been relegated to assisting the maids and helping downstairs. Ye won’t see me much in the next few days.”
Her eyes met his. “I cannot wait until we return to Southmeade. There’s nowhere to meet here, and I have been wanting to do this.” She kissed him. His hands on her waist tightened as he pulled her closer and kissed her in return.
Finally, he broke away. “Someone might come. Ye should go.”
“When will I see you again?”
He kissed her again then said, “Even when ye don’t see me, lass, know that I’m near. I’ll always keep ye safe, so I will.”
Her heart melted at the sentiment. She didn’t need to be kept safe, but she liked that he wanted to protect her. “Mama and I are attending a card party tomorrow night. Perhaps you can go with the carriage. I’ll see if I can arrange it.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She put a finger over his lips. “Leave it to me. I can arrange these things with subtlety.”
They heard a door open and close below them, and James tensed and pushed her back toward the door she’d entered through. “If he or she starts up, I’ll go down and hold them off,” James whispered. “Ye go to yer chamber.”
Phil nodded, and they both listened intently. The footsteps grew fainter as the servant descended the steps. Phil blew out a breath. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“Be careful, lass.”
“Don’t worry about me.” She kissed him again then opened the door, but before she could slip through it, he pulled her back for one last kiss. Her lips tingled for the rest of the night.
SEEING HER AND NOT having her created a special kind of torture for James. When she was in his arms, he couldn’t get enough of her, and when she was not, it felt as though one of his lungs had been ripped out of his body. He couldn’t seem to take a deep breath.
Then there were the brief glimpses he had of her. These were through cracks in doors and sometimes were nothing more than the sound of her voice as he passed a room. Those were enough to make him feel as though a knife had wedged in his gut and nothing but touching her again, kissing her, would relieve the ache.
James had been waiting for word from Sean and Patrick that they were in London. It came the evening after he had kissed Phil in the stairway in the form of the number eleven in chalk on the outer wall of the courtyard. James wiped it away with his sleeve and hoped no one else had seen it, or if they had, didn’t wonder about it. And then at eleven, when the duchess and Lady Philomena were in their bedchambers and only the servants who had mending to do or who didn’t need to be up early sat in the servants’ dining hall to gossip, he slipped out the back door and into the courtyard. The gate creaked, and he oiled it before he opened it and closed it again behind him. Where the eleven had been chalked, there was now an arrow. He wiped it away then followed it toward the Duke of Mayne’s mews.
Before he reached them, he spotted Sean at the end of the alley. Sean’s reddish blond hair was light enough to be easily visible. It was another few seconds before Sean spotted James, and then he motioned for James to follow. Sean led him to Patrick, who was leaning against a
tree in the park not far from Mayne House. “I see ye made it,” Patrick said.
“So did ye.” James looked about the park, empty at this time of night but full of shadows. He’d heard thieves prowled the park after dark, and judging by the two in front of him, what he’d heard was correct.
“So?” Sean began. “What can ye tell us?”
“It’s a cold night, so it is,” he said. “That’s about all.”
Patrick scowled. “I can see the weather with my own eyes. What can ye tell us about Lady Philomena? Where will she go tomorrow or the day after?”
“Sure and the family gives me a detailed itinerary. They write it out for me every night.” James gave a mirthless laugh. “I know about as much as ye do.”
He’d meant it when he’d vowed to protect Phil this afternoon, and he wouldn’t break that vow. He had to hold Sean and Patrick off until they returned to the country. Then he could figure out how best to deal with them. Maybe he could decide what to do about his growing feelings for Lady Philomena as well. Only a fool would think they could go on as they had been.
“Did she go out tonight?” Patrick asked.
“No.” And then because he knew Patrick expected some information, he added, “She went to her dressmaker this morning. I don’t know where else. The town house staff accompanied her.”
“What’s the name of the dress shop?” Sean asked
“I couldn’t tell ye.” This was true. He had no idea who made her clothing, and he thought it better if he didn’t know.
“If she didn’t go out tonight, she’ll go tomorrow,” Patrick said, rubbing a thumb along the whiskers on his chin. “If ye aren’t sent along, no reason we can’t go. We’re lodging at Mrs. Lindlam’s. It’s a boarding house in Covent Garden, not far from here. Send word to us there as soon as ye know. We can follow and snatch her if she’s out in public and we have half a chance.”
The thought of it made James numb with cold. He couldn’t let that happen. “And what about me?” he asked. “I’m cut out of it then?”
“Come look for us at Mrs. Lindlam’s. We’ll find ye there and take ye to her.”
“Where will ye keep her?” James asked.
“Don’t ye worry about that,” Patrick said. “I can handle that part of it, so I can.” He motioned to Sean. “Now we’d best get back before trouble finds us. James, give us a few coins for coal. Our room is freezing, and we can’t eat and put coal in the stove.”
James dug in his pocket and handed Patrick two pennies. “It’s all I have with me. I can bring ye more at the boarding house tomorrow if ye’d like.”
“No need,” Patrick said, putting the pennies in his pocket. “Soon we’ll all three be warm and fed and rich as kings.”
He started away and Sean followed, pausing to turn back to James and say, “Don’t forget to send word tomorrow.”
James nodded. When they were gone, he started back toward Mayne House, taking the back alley and striding quickly past the mews. It was comforting to hear the horses snorting and smell the scents of hay and leather as he passed the stables. It was certainly after midnight now, and he doubted anyone would see him come in. He pushed open the gate to the courtyard, pleased it still didn’t squeak, and moved toward the house.
Too late, he heard a footstep behind him. He swung around and the older man stepped back, raising his hands defensively. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” Jarvis said.
James froze. How would he explain what he’d been doing out this late?
“Looks like we both had the same idea,” Jarvis said.
James stared at the older man. “Oh?”
“Nice night to take some air.”
“So it is,” James agreed.
“I’m old and can’t sleep well these days. I find a little stroll helps me rest. That and a dram of whisky.”
James lifted his brows. “There’s whisky?”
Jarvis chuckled. “None tonight, I’m afraid. And if I know Banks, he’ll have you up and working hard early tomorrow. You’d best get to bed.”
“I will. Good night to ye.” He tipped his hat and started for the town house door again.
“Oh, and Mr. Finnegan?”
James paused but did not look over his shoulder.
“One more piece of advice. Be careful who you trust. You know the old saying about a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
He turned. “There are no more wolves in Ireland nor England either, I believe.”
Jarvis’s gaze was steady. “You don’t believe that, do you?”
James didn’t know what to say. Had Jarvis seen him with Patrick and Sean or did he merely suspect James was in some sort of trouble? Whatever he knew or didn’t know would remain a secret as, with a nod, Jarvis turned and moved off toward the mews. James watched him go and wondered if he’d been given a warning or a threat.
THE NEXT MORNING JAMES was summoned early to carry a letter across Town, deliver it, and wait for a reply. He didn’t know London well and the errand took him longer than it should have. He was away for the entirety of the morning and didn’t return until after the servants had sat down to a light midday meal. The porridge and tea he’d swallowed at dawn was a distant memory by then, but the cook took pity on him and made him a plate of food James suspected had come back from the nobs’ dinner the night before. It was far better fare than he was used to.
While he was finishing, Banks stepped into the dining room. “Enjoying your leisure time, Finnegan?”
James wiped his mouth and stood. “No, sir. I missed the meal, so I’m having a bite now.”
“And you did not think to give the reply to me before you sat down to eat?”
“I gave it to the first footman, sir. I saw him right when I came in.”
“I see. Next time you will put it in my hand. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.” James made to sit again, but Banks narrowed his eyes. James stood straight.
“It appears that while you have not yet earned my good graces, you have managed to ingratiate yourself to others.”
James wasn’t certain what the butler meant by that statement, so he stood and remained silent.
Banks cleared his throat. “Lady Philomena has requested you be one of the footmen who escorts the ducal carriage to the card party tonight.”
James’s first reaction was panic. Why would Phil be so careless? But then why should she worry? She could make any request she liked and no one would question it. James schooled his face into an expression of confusion. “Me, sir?”
“Yes, you. Not you alone, of course.”
“No, sir.”
“Do you think you are up to the task, Finnegan? I don’t like to deny Lady Philomena anything, but if you are not capable—”
“I’m capable, sir.”
“Good.” Banks clasped his hands behind his back. “It will mean a late night. I had wanted you to move the furniture in the blue room so the maids might dust, but you will instead be given two hours in which to rest. I suggest you take it as you may very well be out until the wee hours.”
“Yes, sir.” Banks looked as though he wanted to say more, but James gestured to the table. “May I finish eating, sir?”
Banks agreed, and when he was gone, James blew out a long breath and closed his eyes. Now was the time he should send word—or go himself, he did have two hours free—to tell Sean and Patrick Lady Philomena would be in public tonight. If they found out later and he hadn’t given them advance notice, they would know he was working against them. Not to mention, he would be at the event and could keep Phil safe. He could find a way to thwart their plans—perhaps alert one of the host’s footmen that he’d seen miscreants skulking about. Patrick would never so much as touch Phil.
He brought his plate back into the kitchen and decided he would do it. Patrick and Sean might be questioned, but if they hadn’t done anything, they’d be set free. By that time, Phil would be back in the country, and he could figure out a plan then—if and when Sean and Pa
trick returned. They were often absent for weeks at a time. James imagined they had other schemes or even honest work during those absences, and he didn’t ask too many questions.
But he wanted Banks to see him go up to his room, so he made a show of heading that way and telling everyone he saw he was going to have a bit of a lie down. But when he saw the second footman, the man shook his head. “Lady Philomena wants to see you first. Something about the message you delivered. She’s in the drawing room.”
James tried to ignore how his heart thundered in his ears as he changed course and started for the drawing room. He’d seen her only yesterday, and yet it felt like weeks. But chances were the duchess would be present. He would have to keep from looking at her too long or with any sense of desire.
When he arrived at the drawing room, he tapped on the door and entered. He spotted Lady Philomena on a settee, book in hand. She glanced up at him, and he inhaled sharply, as though he’d been struck. She wore midnight blue, a color that accented her eyes and contrasted nicely with her golden hair. The cut of the dress was narrow, giving him an impression of long legs and a trim waist. Or perhaps that was his mind adding details where it shouldn’t.
Quickly, he pulled his gaze away from her, surreptitiously searching the room for the duchess. He didn’t see her. Were they alone?
“Oh, there you are, James,” Phil said, her voice like honey. He darted a glance at her, not trusting that they were unobserved.
“Ye wanted to see me, me lady?”
“I did. It’s this reply.” She held up the missive he had carried back from a Lieutenant Draven’s dwelling. “Did you speak with Mrs. Draven?”
“No, me lady. But the butler, Ward, informed me a Miss Ines Neves would send a reply.”
“Ah, that’s who wrote this then. I’m afraid I cannot quite make it out. Can you take a look?” She held out the slip of paper and James met her gaze. Her eyes held a hint of a challenge. This was all pretense, of course. As a servant, he wouldn’t have seen the reply, but clearly she wanted him to come closer.
