Page 35 of Falling for a Footman

Eighteen

James looked at theclosed door. It was a massive black square with only the slightest hints of edges in the dim light from their rapidly decreasing candles.

What had just happened?He ran his hand over his face, turning away from the door towards the window once more.

He felt like someone had turned his world upside down, then shaken it out of proportions. At first, he had simply tried to rattle her with being close to her as her questions had come far too close to a sore spot. Somehow, she knew that there was something off with what he said about having worked for the Marquis of Riplingham. He had no idea how she was able to tell, but it was clear that she had latched on to that piece of information.

But once again kissing her, holding her in his arms, had changed matters for him. He could no longer deny that he desired her, no, more than that, that he had somehow come to care for her, despite not really knowing her.

It was because of that he had tried to be a gentleman. To not lead Charlotte further astray than he already had, yet... somehow it had ended with her leaving, her saying that they should never see each other again.

And it was what he wanted. There could be no doubt in his mind that this was what he wanted. Yet the rest of his being – his body, soul and perhaps even his heart – told him that it was not. That she belonged with him, right there next to him.

Which was ridiculous on so many levels that he could not even count them. For one he knew more about her from observing her than from actually having talked to her. He knew her to be gentle and kind – he had seen her with her younger siblings – she showed especial attention to her youngest sister the three-year-old Hester when the whole family was gathered in the drawing room in the afternoons. She would be a good mother he realized and then immediately banned the notion from his mind again. No, he could not think in those terms. Especially not small children with perceptive grey eyes and blondish brown hair.

He also knew her to be someone who rarely spoke without thinking. At dinner she did not talk as much as her sister Lady Lucinda but when she did it was usually well thought through.

And it was not because she was not smart that she did not speak as much. She was intelligent. He knew that she was often reading in the library in the afternoon, both novels and books of philosophy, politics, and history. Topics that otherwise did not seem to interest young ladies. At least not the young ladies that James had previously been acquainted with.

She liked to be out of doors. He had noticed how she would usually go riding with the duke in the mornings or go for a long walk. Her lady’s maid Miss Walker had more than once complained about the mud stains on her dresses and how difficult they were to wash off.

“If she had to do her own laundry, she would not be traversing the entire estate every day, I tell you that,” Miss Walker had said indignantly earlier this evening.

“Now, Peggy, it is not our place to tell the family what they can and cannot do,” the housekeeper, Mrs. Higgins, had scolded her good-naturedly. Miss Walker had been a regular maid until Charlotte had had her debut and Miss Walker had been promoted to the rank of lady’s maid. Mrs. Higgins seemed to forget this detail and often referred to her as Peggy instead, which always gave Miss Walker a pained expression on her face, even though she never corrected the housekeeper.

“They pay you for your services – very generously I might add – put a roof over your head and plenty of food on your table. If Lady Charlotte wants to traverse the entire estate as you call it, it is her right,” Mrs. Higgins had gone on.

“Yes, Mrs. Higgins,” Miss Walker had said in a tone of voice that sounded demurely, but to James also held a tone of defiance. Mrs. Higgins had not commented on it however, and Miss Walker had gone back to mending the hem of one of Charlotte’s petticoats.

James had had to advert his gaze from it. He had found the sight of fabric that had touched Charlotte’s skin too disturbing to contemplate while he was in public.

Sighing, James rested his hands on the windowsill and placed his forehead on the cool glass of the window. His erection had just gone down, but he could feel his cock twitch again at the thought of Charlotte’s petticoats or more importantly what was underneath them. Of how he would like to explore that area with more than his hands.

He forced his thoughts away from it, but his mind seemed unable to focus on anything but Charlotte at the moment. Perhaps he could court her properly when this was over. If she was not too offended by him posing as a footman to ever speak to him again, he might ask the duke’s permission to court her next season. No, it was impossible. Even if she was able to forgive him for lying to her, she still deserved someone better than him.

James startled as he saw a dark figure moving across the lawn below the window. He hastily took a step back, thinking that he perhaps should put the lights out but also too curious to see who it was to move from his position at the window.

It was a woman; he could tell by her dress and the way she walked. Not Charlotte, someone shorter than her. It could be her younger sister Lady Lucinda who was several inches shorter. But he doubted that she would have any reason to sneak about at night.

Most likely it was one of the female staff members. But who? And why was she sneaking about the garden at night?

James’s curiosity had him standing completely still by the window, trying to determine who among his fellow staff it could be. As the woman reached the shrubbery on the other side of the lawn she turned to look back at the estate and in that moment, James felt certain who she was: Miss Walker.

James turned away from the window to make sure he was not discovered. He took his candlestick and stood for a moment looking at Charlotte’s candlestick that she had forgotten. Then he blew out the candle and left the room.