Page 38 of Falling for a Footman

Twenty

James walked as hastilydown the hallway away from the duke’s study he could without raising suspicion from his fellow staff. Clenching and unclenching his hands as he tried to find a place to be alone and compose his feelings. He could not go to his room since William was there nursing a cold. He would have to find another place, but alas despite working in a large house he was offered very little privacy.

She had talked to her father. Charlotte. There could be no other reason for the conversation he had just had with the duke. He had mentioned that one of his daughters had spotted him talking to a rider in black. There could be no question as to who that daughter was.

Since Lady Lucinda spent as much time as possible in her studio painting, while Charlotte would go for long walks it had to be her. He did not know why it angered him. From what he knew of her he would not have expected anything less. Yet he could not help but feel that she should have been loyal to him.

At least she could have asked him although of course he would have lied to her. He suspected that she knew this, he thought as he passed by the door to the library. Charlotte often spent her afternoons in there, but he knew that she had not come back from her walk yet. He quickly slipped into the room, letting out a sigh of relief of finally being able to be alone.

He paced the floor trying to rid himself of the excess energy that had built in his body as he had had to stand completely motionless with a neutral face in front of his employer.

The plumb ivory pillows in the sofa seemed to be ripe for smashing and if he had not feared that he would beat them into mush he would have planted his fist into one of them at once.

Charlotte had no reason to be loyal to him. No reason to talk to him before she talked to her father. He was even the one that had said that nothing more could happen between them. Yet he felt that she should have come to him first. She should have asked him first about his meeting. If he had had any idea that all her questions stemmed from that the fact that she believed him to be the thief, he would have...

Well, probably not done anything differently, which was just what was so annoying. Half his anger stemmed from the fact that he had no right to these feelings. There was no future for them however much he might imagine it. She deserved someone much better than him. Someone with a title. Someone who had not had to sell his commission because his commanding officer could not stand the sight of him any longer. Someone who was simply better. He had been here almost two weeks and he was still no closer to figuring out who the thief was. He was a failure as an officer and as a Bow Street Runner.

He picked up a pillow and threw it against the wall. It gave a quite satisfactory smack when it hit the dark blue wallpaper, but then fell to the floor with a bit of a disappointing plump.

His relationship with Charlotte spanned not even a week. Where he had helped her into chairs each night, opened doors for her, carried water to her room, kissed her three times and pleasured her once. Long lasting relations was not formed in such a short time – and loyalty was not earned. For that he needed to be honest with her but telling her who he was felt just as much as a failure as lying to her did. There was no winning.

Another pillow followed the first, then a third and a fourth. A gasp by the door made him stop with the fifth pillow in his hands and turn around.

Of course, it was her. Who else could it be that walked into the library when he behaved as a complete buffoon.

“I... I...” Charlotte stammered and turned around towards the still open door.

James threw down the pillow, rushed to her in long strides and slammed the door shut. If he had been just a bit more composed, he would never have behaved in such a way but at the moment he was unable to control himself.

“Do you honestly believe I’m the thief?” he demanded, standing so close to her that he could smell her flowery scent.

She looked up at him with a frightened look on her face and James realized that she was afraid he might hurt her. He felt an acidic taste in the back of his throat that she would even think so of him.

“I’m sorry,” he said and stepped to the side to allow her to leave if she wanted to. He went to pick up the pillows on the other side of the room to be as far away from her as possible. “I’m sorry,” he repeated as he replaced the pillows on the sofa.

He did not look at her again until all five pillows were back on the sofa. She had not moved. Her grey eyes were still wide, her mouth slightly open. As if she wanted to speak but was not certain what to say. Which words would not cause further rage. Yet she had stayed which made a warmth spread from his chest to the rest of his body.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated as he sat down in the sofa to show her that he would not just rush to her on a whim. Even though sitting in the presence of a woman went against everything he had learned about common curtesy towards a lady.

“He told you,” she then exclaimed disbelievingly. “He said he would not mention that it was me who told him.”

“Well, to be fair he simply said that it was one of his daughters, but since he only has three it was not difficult to deduce which one of you had told him.”

She was biting her lip as she took two steps towards him then halted. James felt ecstatic that she dared to come near him, even though he did not deserve it after his behavior. He fought to keep calm and hide his joyous smile.

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded again.

“Stop apologizing,” she snapped. “I know you would not hurt me. I just had no idea you had such a temper.”

Her comment almost made James smile even wider. He had never heard her use this tone with anyone before, but he liked that she dared to with him. He leaned back in the sofa, resting his right foot on his left knee, as he waited for her to make the next move. He expected she would finally demand answers to all her questions. Her eyes moved from side to side as she was clearly trying to make sense of the whole situation.

“You’re the investigator,” she then finally ventured, and James immediately put both feet back on the floor, before he caught himself, leaned back again and tried to remain just as calm as he had been before.

“You’re the investigator,” Charlotte repeated elated, however. A large smile was spreading on her face and as much as James hated the situation, he also adored how she looked. He had never seen her look more beautiful than this.