One Day for a Valet

Chapter 6

Christopher arrived to wake Gabriel at the usual hour. His first knock was met with silence. His second by a gravelly, “Go away, Keene,” followed by the duchess’s apology for the inconvenience.

“I can feel you grinning through the door,” Gabriel said with a chuckle before adding, “Now go away.”

Christopher was smiling. His friend deserved every ounce of happiness he could squeeze from life. It meant adjusting the shape of their friendship to make space for Violet, but their friendship was sturdy enough to manipulate and adapt as the situation required. God knew they had adapted often over the years.

When Gabriel hadn’t shown up the previous night for their usual after-dinner scotch, Christopher had curled up in bed early with a novel recommended by one of the house maids, and the hours had passed pleasurably enough. In the book, the heroine, dressed as a cabin boy to escape her villainous relatives, fled on a pirate ship, and fell in love with the swashbuckling captain. Naturally, he remained attractive even after months at sea.

So far, the crew of fifty men and their preternaturally sweet-smelling captain had remained oblivious to her feminine curves, but Christopher suspected that she would be wounded soon enough, requiring the captain to remove some of her pertinent bits of clothing. Christopher hoped the author wouldn’t skip all the good parts in that particular scene…

Alas, reading about a beautiful woman dressed in lad’s clothes had brought to mind Christopher’s earlier conversation with Sofia. And from there, his imagination wasted no time in conjuring a rather salacious scene wherein he expertly played the part of her valet.

No further reading had occurred.

“Shall I come back in half an hour?” Christopher asked through the still-closed door.

“An hour,” Gabriel replied, a measure of ducal crispness returning to his voice. Feminine murmuring preceded a strangled groan.

“An hour and a half,” Gabriel amended.

Ninety minutes should be just enough time to return the pear trees to the glasshouse.

Stripping off his topcoat,Christopher leaned against the stone garden wall to catch his breath while Jeremy looked on with undisguised vexation.

Christopher let his head tip back, heaving a sigh. “Oh for Christ’s sake, take off your coat or it’ll be ruined with sweat stains anyway. No one who sees you will care.”

“Easy for you to say, bruv. His Grace won’t fire his best mate for stripping half his clothes off in the back garden.”

“Half my clothes? It”s a topcoat! I’m hardly running around in my drawers.”

“No one on this estate wishes to hear about your unmentionables, Mr Keene,” said a haughty aristocratic voice from behind him.

Startling, Christopher spun about, then spotted the dowager duchess looming on the balcony above. “Good God, she’s like a malevolent poltergeist appearing out of nowhere. Did you know she was there?” Christopher whispered.

“I am a malevolent poltergeist with excellent hearing, Mr Keene. What, precisely, are you doing with that tree?”

“Just taking it for a little stroll, Your Grace.”

Jeremy snorted convulsively then coughed.

“It’s a fruit tree, not a pug dog, young man. Shouldn’t you be attending to my son? Or have you abandoned all pretence of doing your job in favour of pointless shenanigans?” One finely sculpted silver brow lifted, her long fingers wrapping tightly around the banister.

“I believe the duchess is attending to him this morning, Your Grace.” Try as he might, Christopher had never been able to resist goading the woman. But if his comment had discomfited her in the slightest, she didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing it.

“Very well. Please inform the duke that I am returning to the dower house. I will await the duchess’s arrival after she breaks her fast.”

Without a backwards glance, she disappeared through the door and out of sight.

“That woman scares the shit out o’ me, and I’m not ashamed to say it,” Jeremy said under his breath, still watching the empty space where the dowager had been.

Christopher gave his shoulder a shove. “Come on, Jeremy. We’re nearly there. Let’s get this finished.”

“Eager to check in on a certain governess? I saw her with the children in the rose garden this morning. What’s the hurry? Doesn’t seem like she likes you much anyway.”

“I’m an acquired taste. Are you going to help me move this thing or do you plan to continue standing around meddling in my affairs?”

“The meddling option, of course.”

Christopher stomped back to the tree and made to lift his end. Jeremy, however, leaned indolently against the wall.

“You are a jackass. And for the record, this will be the last time I invite you to assist me in relocating a massive pear tree.”

“Yes, because the opportunity to partake in this little ‘bonding ritual’ is likely to crop up again often.” One glance at Christopher”s slight smile and Jeremy barked out a laugh. “Oh good God, it is, isn’t it? You”re a persistent bastard. Not that I don’t get the appeal. Even a stone and a half too lean, she’s something. Rather like a wild animal with irresistibly soft fur.” Jeremy got a faraway look in his eye that Christopher didn’t appreciate in the slightest. “You know she might gut you if you try to touch, but you can’t help wondering if the threat of having your entrails splayed out might be worth just a little stroke.”

Christopher reared up to his full height, which was woefully unimpressive beside Jeremy’s strapping build. “Her fur is not for you.”

Waving off his posturing, Jeremy walked back towards the pear tree. “Easy, old man. I wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle. You’re going to need all your parts in working order to have any hope of winning that woman’s affection.”

At the appointed time,Christopher stood once again before the imposing door of the ducal suite.

“Come in, Keene. Violet’s gone,” Gabriel called. “Off to find my mother, if you can believe it. She’s attempting to narrow the chasm between the dowager and me by hosting a ball.”

Christopher collected Gabriel’s shaving implements, chatting as he ran the razor across the strop with practiced strokes. “Shall I have Her Grace’s horse saddled and assign a groom to accompany her, or are we trusting Violet’s ability to follow the path of gnarled trees, beware signs, and decaying vines that lead to your mother? I suppose she’s not likely to miss the skeletons cast about in the branches.”

“I already sent Richard with her. I figured she would enjoy his company and his inquisitive mind. We may find ourselves in need of a search party by tea time when they incite one another to follow animal tracks in the opposite direction of the dower house.”

Gabriel was smiling, staring off as if his mind had similarly wandered away.

“I’d be stunned if she made it beyond the front garden. Surely you’ve exhausted her with bed sport by now.” Keene waggled his eyebrows.

“Speaking of athletic activities, I heard you turned my kitchens into a fencing arena?”

Christopher grabbed a fistful of the larger man’s banyan and pulled him into a chair. “I heard you scarcely made it through dinner before throwing the duchess over your shoulder and hauling her to the ducal suite.”

“Yes, well, you’re pilfering items to leave as gifts like a lovestruck starling.”

“While you take on livestock carpentry projects like a common farmhand.”

Gabriel raised his chin, eyes flicking to the blade in Christopher’s hand. “It’s better than passing notes to a girl like a schoolboy.”

Christopher grimaced. That does sound decidedly pathetic. “It wasn’t the kitchens. We duelled in the gardens like civilised people.”

Gabriel gave a curt nod. “And I didn’t throw the duchess over my shoulder… I carried her, as any gentleman would. Are you planning on shaving me with that anytime this morning, or shall I do it myself?”

Christopher began applying soap to Gabriel’s face with the soft beaver brush. “I will admit that my interest is piqued, but that’s all. She’s clearly in need of a friend.”

“Lying to your employer is grounds for dismissal.”

“I’m lying in the capacity of best friend at the moment, not employee.”

“Well, that makes it entirely acceptable,” Gabriel responded, unimpressed.

Choosing to ignore his sarcasm, Christopher nodded. “I thought as much.”

“Step lightly, Keene. Despite my wife’s ability to ignore a fishy situation, I cannot. I don’t want to see your good nature trodden upon. It’s one thing to help her feel welcome and another thing entirely to let her troubles become your own.”

Gabriel paused while Keene scraped the blade across the sensitive curve of his neck. “And try not to run her off with your enthusiasm, please. Nora and Violet like her, and even Zachariah seems tolerant of her presence. Christ only knows how we would find another governess to please all three Ansons again.”

“You may consider me appropriately warned by the Duke of Northam. And as for my friend, Gabriel, I’ll humour him as well. I will be careful.”

Gabriel nodded, relaxing in his chair, and Christopher returned his attention to removing a night’s growth from the chiselled angles of his face.

Christopher wasn’t lookingfor Miss Lioni, it was simply a fine day for a walk. If he happened to cross paths with the fiery governess and her charges, well, it would ease his mind to know her first day was going well. He altered his course towards the arbour and then stopped to listen, attempting to gauge their direction. The worst pirate impression Christopher had ever heard assaulted his ears, followed by a fit of giggling and some unknown phrase in Sofia’s lilting Italian tongue. She could read Debrett’s cover to cover and it would still be erotic.

The roses were in full bloom, and the petals littering the path softened Christopher’s steps. He came upon the trio just past the fountain at the centre of the garden. Nora and Sofia wore crude pirate costumes hastily stitched together from scraps of canvas and jute feed sacks. Nora clutched what he surmised was a treasure map. Zach stood nearby with an expression of baffled curiosity, garbed in ordinary clothes. Despite Christopher’s quiet approach, Sofia stilled, sensing the presence of a landlubber intruding upon their game.

“Who goes there! Argh!” Nora leapt towards Christopher, her stick-sword at the ready. “Spies be forced to walk the plank!”

”In Italiano, per favor!” Sofia chastised playfully with a soft swat from her “blade.”

“Chi va li! Gli inrusi cammineranno sul bastone!”

“That’s ‘walk on the stick,’ but close enough. I don’t suppose a duke’s daughter will have much need to demand that a gentleman walk the plank. Good morning, Mr Keene.” Her greeting was polite but cool.

“We’re learning maths, Italiano, and history all in one,” Nora exclaimed, shoving the map up to Christopher’s nose.

Christopher gave the parchment a quick but thorough once-over before allowing his gaze to stray back towards Sofia. She raised her eyepatch and perched it atop her tousled curls, a pretty blush spreading across her cheeks as she squirmed under his unabashed stare. He was certain he had never seen anything more adorable.

“Three squirrels, one stone,” Sofia said with a wink and a meaningful glance towards Zach. It took a moment for Christopher to wrap his mind around the phrase, but then he threw his head back and chuckled.

“That’s birds, Miss Lioni. You throw stones at birds, not squirrels,” Zach said quietly.

Head cocked to the side, she addressed her question entirely to Zach. “Why would anyone want to throw stones at birds? You Englishmen and your ridiculous phrases. I will never understand. It’s a good thing I have such a fine young man to teach me.”

The tips of Zachariah’s ears coloured.

Christopher suspected that Sofia’s wink to him had caused him the very same affliction. He touched the shell of one notably warm ear. “I suppose it’s rather macabre either way,” Christopher added.

“Will you treasure hunt with us, Christopher?” Nora looped both hands through the crook of his arm, smiling up at him.

A rag with a painted skull and crossbones held back the mass of dark brown spirals that were forever escaping her plaits. He tucked a curl behind her ear. “If it is not an intrusion on your lesson, I would be delighted. Maybe I can learn a few Italian phrases and improve my mind as well.” He looked to Sofia with eyes as large and imploring as Nora’s.

“We would be happy to add another scallywag to our pirate crew,” Sofia said with only the slightest hesitation.

Nora beamed. “I’ve learned all kinds of things about pirates! We solved a riddle in Italian that led us to this picture of Black Beard.” She showed him a poorly drawn picture of a pirate with maths problems and symbols written beneath it. Neatly scrawled sentences in Italian lined the margins. “And then we followed the clues and ciphers to this map, which brought us to buried treasure in the winter garden!”

“A rum bottle with marbles,” Zach clarified.

“Pirate treasure,” Nora reiterated, enunciating every syllable. She met Zach’s gaze with a look of exasperation before turning back to Christopher. “Zach suggested we combine the answers with what we discovered from clue six about Black Beard’s ship, the Revenge, and now”—she took a great gasping breath of air—“we think there is a plank to walk somewhere! But we still have to figure out where!”

“Nora, I think I’ve figured it out,” Zach said. “It’s mirror script written in Italian and it corresponds to the maths problem in clue number eight.” Before long, both children were bowed over their paper, pencils in hand, quietly arguing over the answer.

“Quite a lesson today, Miss Lioni. This one may be difficult to top.”

“I had excellent tutors, each of whom believed in bringing history and the natural sciences to life. They made mathematics feel practical and useful. It’s exciting to be on this side of education, and it is allowing me to become better acquainted with the children. For instance, even when Zachariah knows the answer, he stays quiet if he thinks Nora might also find the solution. He dotes on her and will ignore his own anxiety if she is the slightest bit uncomfortable and requires his strength.”

Sofia’s keen observations shouldn’t have surprised Christopher. He had no doubt of her clever mind, after all. But still, he found he liked her all the more for the obvious effort she had already invested in getting to know the children. And the way she came alive when she talked about them? Well, Christopher had discovered a very useful cipher of his own… in discussing their education, she had completely forgotten to scowl at him.