She just hoped Gran didn’t intend for her to put expedience ahead of happiness.
2
Adrian Montague groaned as he was shaken awake by a gentle hand.
“It’s half past five,” a sleepy voice murmured, trailing off into a yawn.
Adrian sat up. “Christ.” He raked his hands through his hair before glancing at Benjamin, one of the other footmen employed at Hartland Abbey. Their shared room had a pair of tiny wood-framed beds, one washstand, and a chest of drawers they split between them. Life in service meant everything was shared, right down to the livery clothes on his back.
He had been a footman at Hartland for ten years. Now nine and twenty, he was coming into the age where men like him would either move on or advance into an underbutler position. But he doubted that Hartland’s butler, Mr. Reeves, would consider him for the position. Not given his family history.
It was one thing to allow the bastard son of a duke to stand as a pretty decoration in livery, but it was quite another to let him move into a more prominent position within such a noble household. Mr. Reeves, while an affable and fatherly man to all employed at the Abbey, was not quite so free and forward as to propose such an idea to Lord Devon and his duchess, Lady Devon.
“Come on, Adrian. I smell breakfast. We’d better get a move on.” Benjamin lit a candle in the dark interior of the basement room, giving them enough light to change into their uniforms of black breeches and gold-striped waistcoats.
When Adrian was dressed, he joined a few of the other lower staff as they ate a quick breakfast of toast and poached eggs. Then he accepted a tray for Mr. Reeves from the cook, Marion Webster.
“Best to wake up a bit, dear,” Mrs. Webster teased and pinched his cheek, winning her a rare smile. Adrian had a soft spot for the old girl. She was the mother of Phillip Webster, the valet for the Duke of Devon’s second-oldest son, William Hampton, or Lord William.
Adrian climbed the winding stairs to the ground floor to wake Mr. Reeves and to deliver his breakfast. It was going to be a long day for everyone belowstairs. The Abbey was to play host to a house party for the next week. Coaches would be arriving throughout the day. Everyone would need tending to, luggage carried, tea and food brought up, and new servants settled. He and the rest of the staff would not go to bed until well after midnight tonight.
He knocked lightly on Mr. Reeves’s door, and the butler called for him to enter. He set the tray down on the small table beside the butler’s bed.
“Morning, Adrian. Is everyone else up?”
“Yes, Mr. Reeves.”
“Good. See that everyone is on schedule. I will confirm with Mrs. Miller as to the guest list. Make sure you and Benjamin watch the bells for coaches arriving.”
“Yes, Mr. Reeves.”
Adrian descended back down into the kitchens and dodged around sleepy-eyed upstairs maids, grooms, and a few of the upstairs servants, who were all starting their day.
Adrian knew all of them well, but he usually kept to himself, even though he counted many of them as friends. It was easier that way. The scandal of his birth could damage many of those around him. He was the bastard son of a duke, but not the Duke of Devon. No, the honor of his parentage was that of the Duke of Stratford, who had seduced his children’s young governess after his wife had died. When society had discovered the affair, Stratford had been forced to send her north to bear the child in secret.
Adrian had lived with his mother in Northumberland until he was nineteen, doing his best to earn a living working in a local tavern. When his mother had died of a fever, he’d been left to make his way in the world alone.
He had gone to Stratford’s home only once, bearing the letter his mother had written in her final hours. The duke had refused to see him. Instead, he’d been given a letter that he was not allowed to read and an address of where he was to go. That was how he had shown up on Lord Devon’s doorstep, weary, hungry, in threadbare clothes, and desperate for work. Mr. Reeves had been skeptical of him, like any good butler would be, yet he still had delivered the letter from Lord Stratford to his master.
Adrian remembered how he’d wanted so desperately to be let inside and to rest. Half an hour later, Mr. Reeves had let him enter through the infamous green baize doorway that marked the servants’ domain at Hartland Abbey. From that day to this, he had been welcomed by the other staff and had become a favorite of the house.
He was of an age close to the children of the house, and his attractive features, ones he had inherited from his mother, made him a talking piece of any visiting ladies and even a few men. His height, well over six feet, and his dark hair and amber eyes put him in a unique position—both intensely desirable and completely untouchable.
It was one thing for houseguests to partake in physical pleasures with one another, but servants could not engage with each other, let alone the guests. Adrian had only had a handful of lovers in the last few years, and all of those had been young women who lived and worked in the nearby village. Some had called him a heartbreaker, but he’d done his best to let each young woman down gently when it had been time to part ways.
A life in service was a lonely one, and Adrian felt that now more than ever as the coaches began to arrive. He stared almost forlornly at the first coach rattling down the road toward him. How many times had he stood there waiting for coaches like this? How many years would he continue to live here at the Abbey, answering the calls of the highborn gentry?
He and half a dozen other footmen, along with Mr. Reeves, stood ready to greet the first coach as it made a slow arc in front of the house and stopped before the door.
The coach was a lovely dark blue with bright yellow accents. Four horses pulled it, all matching bays of exquisite health and form. The stable master, Mr. Fredrickson, would be delighted to house such handsome beasts. Adrian had listened to him wax on about horses for hours at the servants’ table on more than one night. The man knew good horseflesh when he saw it.
At a nod from Mr. Reeves, Adrian approached the coach door. He unfolded the step and turned the handle, ready to assist whoever came out.
A silver cane jutted out, followed by the silver hair of an older woman. She wore a dark-blue gown, much like the coach she rode in. She accepted Adrian’s outstretched hand, and he was careful to assist her down once he realized that she was a rather delicate lady. The woman turned a pair of dark-brown eyes on him.
“Lord, I sometimes forget how handsome you devils are. Lady Devon has rather good taste in footmen, don’t you agree?” This last comment was directed at whoever was inside the coach behind her.
Adrian remained impassive as the older woman released his hand and headed toward the house. He turned his attention to whoever was still inside and froze at the sight of a lovely blonde-haired creature with dark-brown eyes. Her face was flushed as she placed her gloved hand in his.
“Please forgive my grandmother. She is forthright at the best of times and can be quite impertinent when she knows she can get away with it.” The young lady, for she was indeed younger than him, had a soft, sweet voice—neither too girlish nor too deep.
Adrian almost forgot to release her hand after she stepped down onto the ground. He wasn’t used to guests speaking directly to him unless they were giving an order, and he certainly wasn’t used to a pretty young lady talking to him.