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 Patrick 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.