Page 47 of Falling for a Footman

Twenty-six

There was nothing romanticabout a dog birth. Mr. Giles was working with Clementia while James was willing himself to sit back, observe and trust in the older man’s expertise. From time to time, he would look at Charlotte who was sitting beside him and think that he out to talk to her, but now was not the time. He did not want Mr. Giles to be a witness and besides his mind was too scattered with worry over Clementia.

When the first pup was finally born, he held his breath as he watched Mr. Giles’s anxious expression. He was rubbing the pup’s back, every few seconds lifting its small snout to his ear to listen for breath.

“Stillborn,” he declared darkly after a minute or more.

James shut his eyes in disappointment for a moment. Clementia was a young dog, and he knew she could have many other litters, but he had spent so much time and effort selecting first her out of Bella’s five litters and then the male she had been mated with. He had expected this litter to show the skill of his abilities.

A cold slim hand with long fingers slipped into his. James opened his eyes and looked at Charlotte. She did not look at him however, but her hand remained in his. The next pup was born soon after, also a stillborn, by the time the third was born, James had given up all hope that any of the pups would be alive. He was surprised when Mr. Giles continued his stroking and listening for the dog’s breath for longer than he had with the two other pups.

“This one lives,” he muttered in a tone of voice that nevertheless showed his contentment. He placed the blind pup by Clementia’s snout, and she immediately started licking it clean. It was soon apparent that the dog had the completely wrong color for James to choose to breed it. Its fur was a muddy dark brown, where Clementia’s and the pup’s father was the finest rusty red.

“What are you going to call it?” Charlotte asked beside him.

Her voice sounded hoarse, and he turned to look at her once more. This time she looked at him as well and he could see the unshed tears in her grey eyes. He squeezed her hand gently and was relieved when she squeezed his back. James looked at the pup again and shrugged.

“I don’t mean to name it. I’m not going to keep it,” he said as he watched the small brown pup half crawl, half being nudged by Clementia until it found one of her tits.

“How can you not keep it?” Charlotte demanded but did not wait for his reply. “If you are not keeping it, I will.”

James could not help but smile. Even though they had not spoken, somehow some of their connection was still there. He might be lucky enough that she would forgive him for not telling her who he was.

“Fine, you name it then,” he challenged her.

“Well, if it’s a female Sif and it is male Thor,” she answered almost pertly.

James looked at her astonished for a moment. He had not expected her to be able to come up with a name so readily. It was almost as if she had known beforehand what to name the dog.

“My father always names his dogs after the Norse Gods,” Charlotte explained. His confusion had evidently shown on his face.

Soon after they took their leave of Mr. Giles who would stay with Clementia – and Thor since they have discovered the puppy was male – for a little while longer. They walked in silence through the graying morning for a while. They were not touching, but the distance between them was not unsurmountable either. There might be hope, James thought, relieved even though he could not begin to understand how this could work.

“Charlotte,” James began and stopped. They had come to a point where a path into the garden began and he would honestly rather have this conversation with her out in the open than confined in the manor house where everyone could hear them. “I’d like to explain.”

He offered her his arm, which she silently took, and he led her into the mostly dark garden. James took a deep breath before he started speaking:

“I should apologize,” he began.

“You should,” Charlotte said. Her tone was stern, but she did not draw away from him.

“I am sorry then. I should have told you who I am, but I did not. At first because it felt like a failure if I was not able to convince you that I was a footman, and then – when you exposed me as the investigator – I have to admit that I forgot.”

“Forgot?” Charlotte’s voice was laced with equal parts anger and disappointment.

“We immediately started planning how to catch the thief. I... it honestly slipped my mind to tell you my name.”

Charlotte was silent as they walked, and James did not prompt her to speak. He was quite certain that he knew her well enough by now that she needed time to mull the matter over before giving him an answer.

“I suppose it makes sense in some way,” she allowed.

James exhaled in relief and pulled her a little closer to him. She allowed him, which he took as a good sign.

“Does that mean that you have forgiven me?” he asked hopefully.

Again, Charlotte was quiet for a long minute. They were nearing the edge of the lake that lay in the middle of the extensive garden. He was not sure whether the silence boded well for him or not.

“What exactly are you asking my forgiveness for?” she then inquired in a hesitant voice.