Page 27 of Falling for a Footman

James stiffened andlooked straight ahead as the duke and his guests filed into the room. He was especially aware of Colonel Southerden that was escorting the duchess into the room. The two were talking amiably and the colonel did not seem to even cast a glimpse in his direction. Perhaps he had been worried about nothing?

He was relieved however when the colonel was seated with his back to him with a Miss Huntley on either side and the vicar between the two young women. It had not escaped his attention how they were looking at him which almost made him sigh out loud. He made certain not to touch the darkhaired Miss Huntley or meet her eyes when he helped her into her chair.

When he stood along the wall again, he realized that Charlotte was sitting right across from him. Her mother had made the seating arrangement which meant that this could only be coincidental, yet he would have wished her to be seated anywhere else. He did not need the distraction of having her right in front of him. He still did not know what to say to her, nor how to corner her alone to say it.

***

There was no chancethat Charlotte would be able to listen to what the vicar, Mr. Page, was saying; too many thoughts tumbled around in her head and even if they had not, there was the distracting fact that James was standing right behind Mr. Page. Problem was that the vicar was quite happy to give long and lengthy speeches and since Charlotte’s father seemed to enjoy them, no one dared to interrupt him.

Violet and Lily found James handsome. Charlotte knew that she was not the only one who could see this; by all universal standards, James was a very attractive man. It was simply hearing it out loud, knowing that others were able to see it as well, that made her blood boil in an unhealthy way since her urge was to tell Violet and Lily to back off. And she had no right, she would never have a right. Her only consolation was that James was just as unsuitable for Violet and Lily as he was for Charlotte.

“I have always felt, Your Grace, that what Hume is saying is...” Mr. Page began a new sentence and for a moment was able to make himself heard over Charlotte’s thoughts.

She looked up at the white bearded but bald Mr. Page, but her eyes almost immediately strayed to James whose blue eyes refused to meet hers. Which was decidedly for the best. To give at least some semblance of actually looking at Mr. Page while he spoke, she would keep her eyes fixated on his left shoulder, which allowed her a view of James’s immobile midsection.

She needed to do... something. The situation was only becoming more unbearable after the kiss. Her thoughts were muddled, and, in some ways, she wanted to forget all her worries that he might be the thief, but in others she knew that she needed to know whether he was the thief or not.

But even if he was not, there was no future for them. He was a footman; she would be turning her back on her entire family if she married him. If he would even have her. All they had shared was a kiss. If he had been of her rank what they had done would have ruined her and as a gentleman he would have to marry her, but as a footman... Charlotte would still be ruined but no one would expect them to marry. She felt certain that no one would know, at least it could not be in James’s interest to tell anyone, could it?

William was standing next to him, just as immobile. She knew from her investigation that they shared a room and she had often seen them working together. Could James have told him?

But telling one person would be the same as telling the entire staff. Charlotte knew from Miss Walker how much the staff enjoyed gossiping about each other. Gossip was almost a currency; you could have others do your chores in exchange for juicy gossip.

Her eyes strayed between the two footmen who were just as immobile. James would be fired if anyone found out. But perhaps he did not care. Perhaps he meant to blackmail her father into giving him money to cover up the story. Perhaps that was why he had travelled so far from Suffolk, why his trunk and shoes were of such high quality. She did not know anything about him after all, and yet she had kissed him. Not just a peck, but deep and intense.

Charlotte felt warmth creep into her cheeks and lowered her gaze to her pudding, trying to hide her red cheeks. Heavens, she was not certain how she could go on if the entire staff knew about the kiss. She had not even asked James to keep it a secret. She had assumed he would, since she had taken for granted that he would behave as a gentleman, but if he did not, she could not be certain of anything. This only gave her more incentive to speak to him. Beside her investigation, she needed at least to extract a promise from him that he would never tell anyone about the kiss.

What did she know about him in fact? Very little, despite him being handsome and charming. Heavens, she knew nothing about him, and yet she was... in love. Hardly. It could not be. It would be too ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. Thoroughly and utterly ridiculous. She was the daughter of a duke, and he was a footman, maybe even a thief. No, love, no, that was just, no...

“Charlotte, my dear, are you coming?” her mother queried.

Charlotte looked up and flushed even deeper as she found both the women and men had risen around her and she was the only one still seated.

“Yes, Mama, of course,” she muttered and quickly followed her mother and the rest of the women out of the room as she looked at the ground. She did not dare look at James, afraid that she would see a smile tuck at his lips.

***

James could not helpbut feel for Charlotte when she rose and left the room. She was a young woman who was clearly still trying to find her way in the world and this infatuation was probably only making everything more confusing for her. At least he had caught how her eyes strayed to him several times during the dinner.

To his annoyance it had been difficult for him to remain in character and look straight ahead. He had never realized how much focus it took to not look at what you wanted to. He had hardly heard a word of what Mr. Page had said during dinner. His voice had turned into a monotonous blur in the background as James had trained his eyes on the box of candles on the side table opposite him.

It was not just because he did not want to encourage Charlotte further, that he had not looked at her. He had felt Curtis’s eyes on him more than once. James had considered running from the dining room just to prove his point that he was suffering from a stomach ailment but did not want to draw that kind of attention towards himself.

The men around the table discussed politics, estate matters and the quality of brandy. It felt strange merely listening to a conversation and knowing that you were not allowed to participate in it, despite wanting to. He could not believe that the duke would let Mr. Huntley’s comments about the Whigs go unanswered despite the duke leaning in that direction politically himself.

James clenched both his jaw and his fists as he tried to remain calm. Pianoforte music drifted from the drawing room next door and his mind turned instead to whether it was Charlotte who played. He had walked by several times while she had been practicing and although she was not exactly a virtuoso, he had enjoyed listening to her. She hardly made any mistakes and was mostly able to find the right pace for the melody.

He could also tell that she was not afraid to challenge herself with new melodies. He had walked by one day when she was hammering her way through a melody; it was evident that this was the first time that she played it. But when he had passed by a couple of hours later, she had still been practicing and by then she had been able to play almost without mistakes.

In some ways it was exactly how she kissed: at first, she had not known what to do, but slowly she had started copying his movements and the kiss had become gradually more enjoyable and playful even. It could never happen again though. It had been a lapse of judgement on his part, and he already dreaded what would happen when she learned that he was not a footman but in fact the son of a marquis. Would she demand that he married her? He doubted it, but her father – and his for that matter – would certainly if they ever learned of it.

William cleared his throat next to him, drawing James’s attention back to the dining room. The duke and his guests were about to rise, and James needed to help the talkative vicar with his chair. He hurried forward and as elegantly as possible helped the man out of his chair.

When he returned to the wall however, he felt someone walk towards him.

“Where did you serve, young man?” Colonel Southerden asked and leaned forward a little as if talking to someone shorter than him, despite James being at least a couple of inches taller.

James met the man’s eyes for a moment but saw no recognition in them, merely curiosity. He hurriedly lowered his eyes to the man’s shoulder.