One Day for a Valet

Chapter 7

Sofia wandered closer to Zach and Nora as much to check on their progress as to avoid the relaxed camaraderie that had appeared without warning between herself and Christopher, indisputable as the scent of roses all around them.

Offering her no quarter, Christopher followed. “What gave you the idea for a treasure map?”

“What child doesn’t love pirates?” She looked out towards the tree line behind which her brother lurked. Memories from her own childhood bubbled to the surface of her mind, but like the alcohol that ran through Oliver’s blood, they only made her feel empty. “My brother made treasure maps when I was small. I was clever, and he enjoyed trying to outwit me.”

“You’re missing him now.”

“I am.”

“Is he …”

“Dead? No. But lost to me, which is almost worse I think.”

She looked away from the horizon, briefly checking that the children were still working quietly, and then turned to Christopher. He watched her with such unwavering focus that she could not hold his gaze for more than a moment.

“And you? Do you have family?” she asked.

“A sister is all that remains of my relations. She married a good man and I know she is well cared for, but I miss her. I’m only able to see her a few times a year. But I have Gabriel, who is much like a brother.”

“Yes, I’ve wondered about your relationship with the duke. It is rather surprising. Polly said you grew up together?”

“Both my parents worked on the estate, and then later, I worked as a boot boy. When our paths first crossed, Gabe’s brother, David, wasn’t old enough to be an adequate playmate for him, and there were few other options nearby. We reenacted our fair share of pirate games as children, playing in the woods and in the gardens. His parents were often away in town, and they left him to the care of his nanny and tutors. My father taught Gabriel how to fish, and Gabriel taught me how to read. We played in secret for years before the old duke discovered his heir had befriended a lowly boot boy.”

Christopher offered her a rueful smile. “Oh the servants knew, of course, but I think they understood how desperately Gabriel needed a friend. I was nine when the duke discovered that Gabriel had been writing to me during his first year at Eton. He turned my family out without so much as a character.” Christopher stepped closer, the sleeve of his top coat brushing the back of her hand. “When Gabriel ascended to the title, he was young—scarcely more than a child, really—but he sought me out the moment he was able. It was too late for my father, but I’ve remained here ever since. Gabriel is a good man, one of the best I know. He was determined to be different from his father. Violet is remarkably well matched for him. They balance one another.”

Rarely had she asked a question and received such a comprehensive, unguarded reply. In five minutes, Mr Keene had shared more of his life than most people entrusted to a friend over the course of a month”s acquaintance. And when he stopped, falling silent again, her lips parted with the desire to ask more.

She lingered in that place of indecision, half of her wanting to hear everything there was to know, and the other half dreading the intimacy that would come with knowing him. Thankfully, the children spared her from further deliberation.

“Miss Lioni! We’ve got it! The stables! We walk the plank in the stables!” Nora shouted. Zachariah smiled indulgently as Nora danced around basking in her triumph.

Suddenly grateful for the reprieve, Sofia gave her tunic a straightening tug. “Well, what are we waiting for, my little pirates? Andiamo! Let’s go! There’s not a moment to lose!”

Despite the adults’ brisk pace, the children had already discovered the “plank” and the massive pile of hay beneath it by the time they arrived. Crisp golden sprigs clung to their clothing, wove through their frazzled hair, and stuck stubbornly to their skin.

For a time, Sofia and Christopher watched in comfortable silence as the children took turns leaping into the pile. Nora’s shrieks of joy echoed through the stables. Watching them, Keene laughed. A warm, rich sound that teased her senses into eager awareness.

Eyes alight with merriment, he caught Sofia’s gaze. “I, for one, cannot possibly watch another moment without participating.” He winked and raced up the ladder to the loft, careening down without an ounce of grace or self-containment. Rolling out of the massive heap of hay, Christopher only stopped when his shoulder bumped into Sofia’s half boots. He gazed up from his position at her feet with an impish smile and what looked like half the pile of hay caught in his hair and stuck liberally across his previously pristine clothing. Effervescent lightness seemed to linger all around him, and Sofia wondered if she might feel some of that lightness too if she stood close enough.

“We’re going to get a rope to make a swing,” Nora shrieked, scampering out the door with Zachariah close behind. Rising to his feet rather more gracefully than he had tumbled down, Christopher stood and shook like a dog, flinging a few less dedicated bits of hay from his hair. Cocking his head to the side, he extended one hand out towards Sofia. She stared at where it hovered between them.

“Come, take a leap with me.” The double meaning of his words struck her square in the chest and she slunk backwards a step. There could be no leaping with this man. Not into a pile of hay and not into anything else… no matter how endearing his personality or charming his smile.

“Afraid?” Keene let his hand drop, raising an eyebrow instead.

Sofia’s chin lifted a notch, and she reclaimed the space that she had surrendered a moment before. “Afraid of something a child could do? Of course not.”

Keene matched her movement, inch for inch. He stood too close, but her pride prohibited retreat. She glowered at him but his expression didn’t alter in the slightest.

Reaching out, he picked up a sprig of hay that had landed on her shoulder and rolled it between his fingers. “Yes, a child could do it, but there are dozens of things that children do better than adults. Taking a risk is one, but there are countless others: accepting kindness, embracing spontaneity, asking for what they need. So much is ripped away as we grow,by cruelty or loss or circumstance. We adults believe the lie that our fear is the only thing that keeps us safe.” He shifted closer, so near that Sofia could see the flecks of steely blue mixed within the warm grey of his eyes. “So, Sofia Lioni, the real question is, are you capable of childlike bravery?”

Tentatively, as if certain she would rebuke him but helpless to stifle his optimism, he reached out again for Sofia’s hand. That optimism seemed as much a part of him as the irrepressible cowlick of his hair, and in this moment, she both envied him for it and resented its presence. But she reached out and took his hand anyway because the sincerity in his eyes made her forget that people could not be trusted to stay or to care. It made her forget that she was there to destroy the family that he loved. Made her forget every disappointment she’d ever experienced and plan she’d ever made. Deceptively powerful, that expression of hopeful vulnerability.

Warm, strong fingers laced with hers, and a thrill of awareness sparked like tinder where their fingers curled together. His palm pressed securely against her ungloved hand as he tugged her towards the ladder.

“I would say ladies first, but looking up your skirts seems rather ungentlemanly.” He turned and winked at her. “But feel free to enjoy my backside as we make our way to the top. I don’t mind.”

Giving her hand a squeeze before setting it free, he reached for the bottom rung without waiting to see if she would follow.

She did look at his backside as she climbed behind him, and it was an intriguing view. He wasn’t an especially large man, but his breeches clung to well-defined muscles that flexed as he placed one confident foot after the next.

He turned to her as she reached the platform at the top. “Together then?”

Sofia glanced over the edge and bit her lower lip. “It looked lower to the ground when the children were catapulting off the side.” A nervous laugh escaped. “You first, Mr Keene.”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you alone up here with your fears, sweetheart. I’m in no rush. We can chat and enjoy the view. Tell me more about your brother and your life on the Peninsula.”

With that, she promptly turned and leapt off the side, the sound of Christopher’s rumbling chuckle following her all the way down.

Nora and Zach were still hard at play when Christopher and Sofia made their way back towards the house. Christopher had lost his topcoat sometime around the third dive, one of his shirtsleeves was rolled to the elbow, and his cravat, though tied, was pulled to the side and hung limply in its knot. She wasn’t foolish enough to think she appeared any less dishevelled.

Christopher slowed their pace outside the entrance to the kitchen, then stopped and turned to her. He looked down at her hand as if he wanted to take it but made no move to do so, only studied it for a long moment before blinking and dragging his gaze up to her face.

“Thank you for inviting me along for your pirate lesson, Captain Lioni, and for the pleasure of your company. Have I enticed you into another day of friendship, or was today’s adventure enough to dissuade you from my company forever?” His words were light-hearted, but there was a thread of vulnerability in his voice, and his expression lacked its usual humour. He waited for her response as she watched the guileless emotion on his face. She hardly knew the man, but he simply hid nothing away. Held nothing back. Where others of her acquaintance disguised their thoughts, hiding them like a chameleon disappears from view, Christopher stood before her with all his spots showing, unapologetic and sincere.

“Yes, fine, Mr Keene. I’ll be your friend again tomorrow.”She tried for a tone of impassivity, pretending the way his breath had caught and held while waiting for her response had no effect on her at all. But then his face lit up, and all her feigned indifference evaporated like fog warmed in sunlight and she was smiling right back at him.

“Good.” He cleared his throat. “Very good. I will see you at dinner then.” He bowed, the smile still stretched across his lips, then turned and went inside.

Tryas she might to remain on the outskirts of life at Northam Hall, it was quickly becoming apparent that others interpreted her polite detachment as shyness, which only induced the staff to try harder to include her. Short of hiding away in her room, there seemed to be no avoiding the camaraderie.

Standing outside the kitchen entrance, Sofia groaned at the futility of trying to remove the hay from her clothing. She would just have to be careful not to leave a trail behind her until she could change her dress. From the corner of her eye, Sofia noticed Polly waving from a nearby copse of trees, where a rather unwieldy-looking rug was hung on a line between two branches.

“Did I see Keene with you? He took my bottle of fullers earth to lift a stain on one of His Grace’s shirts this morning and didn’t put it back. I need it for the rug.”

“Yes, but I haven’t any idea where he is now.”

Polly gave the sopping wet carpet a forlorn look and let out a sigh. “It’s all right. Probably doesn’t have the time to return it before tonight anyway. He’ll be tumbling over his own feet right about now making himself presentable to help His Grace dress for supper. I’ll see if Mrs Janewood has any more lying around.”

Reaching up, Polly plucked a stalk of hay from Sofia’s hair. “My, but you’re a mess. Off rolling in the hay? I had no idea Keene worked so fast. But then again, he’s never showed the slightest interest in any of the other girls here, so maybe he’s been saving all his swagger up for you.” She winked.

At the wry glare Sofia gave her, some of Polly’s merriment fizzled away. “Oh, you really ought to lighten up a little, Sofia. What you need is a little more fun in your life.” Before Sofia could gracefully extricate herself from the conversation, Polly extended an invitation for Sofia to join her regular Friday night game of whist, then insisted Sofia add her dress to the day’s wash. “Say you’ll come, Sofia!”

Why must everyone on this estate make me feel so blasted welcome?Couldn’t she just perform her duties, accept her salary, and leave before her brother had an opportunity to muck everything up? And why couldn’t she bring herself to just say no thank you and walk away?

Sofia arrivedin Mrs Janewood’s sitting room promptly at eight o’clock, accepted a glass of wine from Jeremy, and settled into the only remaining chair, with Polly to her right and Annie at her left. Somewhere amidst the chatter and teasing at the card table, a startling realisation struck Sofia—Polly’s invitation was not a poorly disguised reconnaissance mission, as she had suspected. Her fellow servants only wished to be kind. They had no intention of intruding on her privacy. In light of that discovery, every interaction took on a different shape; their questions felt like inclusion, their banter, an invitation of friendship.

Jeremy planted his forehead in his palm, his booming laugh negating the pained expression that preceded it. “Polly! Your ‘hidden’ signal to Annie is about as subtle as a strutting peacock! You can’t swindle a swindler so stop trying to cheat me!”

His gaze left Polly’s just long enough to give Sofia a subtle nod. So, not an expression, then. Jeremy was once a swindler. There would be no uncomfortable questions or probing stares because, like Polly, many of the servants had murky pasts. Jeremy’s words were a plea to stand down. To stop assuming she was the only one amongst them with secrets better left buried. To abandon the burden of her heavy shield because it would not be needed amongst these people.

Relinquishing her shield was not an option, but as the night wore on, some of Sofia—the real Sofia—began to show through the cracks of her armour. She smiled at their jokes and delighted in the easy relationships between these friends. And even though she was still guarded, still lying by omission, her comfort with them began to feel less like a performance and more like a brief reprieve from her real life. It was a moment to forget what she was meant to be doing and enjoy an uncomplicated evening, safe amongst people who accepted her without the benefit of knowing all of her.

That invitation turned out to be the first of many over the following fortnight. Nora taught her how to play chess… and then proceeded to change the rules every time Sofia began to get the upper hand. Marcus, one of the younger grooms, gave her a lesson in lunging a yearling colt on a long rope. And, Polly and Annie invited her to read a copy of a London scandal sheet Annie’s cousin had sent in the post. For many of the activities, Christopher remained nearby—suggesting an attack of her knight to capture Nora’s bishop, placing a hand on her shoulder to correct her angle with the horse, and chuckling with the women over London’s scandals.

Conversation was always lively and congenial, and Sofia grew to anticipate Christopher’s quick wit and easy affability with everyone around him. They were seldom alone, save for a moment or two at the end of every evening when he walked her to her door. Each night he would bow over her hand, gaze up at her with entirely too much tenderness, and ask if she would be his friend again the following day.

Shortly after breaking her fast on a dreary Saturday morning, Polly raced up beside her on the servants’ steps, looping her hand through the crook of Sofia’s arm.

“Annie got a new letter from her beau, Patrick. He’s away apprenticing with a blacksmith and he writes the loveliest things. Words that will make your toes curl, they will! Once we’ve finished with the second-floor sills and windows we’re going to help her write a nice romantic reply. I bet you’ve read all kinds of poetry. Will you come?”

With Polly’s infectious enthusiasm, there was really no declining the invitation. So after retiring to her room to finish her lesson plans for the week, Sofia made her way down to Mrs Janewood’s sitting room. At the distinctive sound of Christopher’s laughter, she paused, standing in the hallway with her hand on the doorknob.

“I promise you, Annie, you needn’t worry about being too forward. That man is practically panting at the thought of being near you again. Look at how hasty his handwriting is here… And this paragraph? Where he talks about how unbearably long his nights have been? Poor fellow is clearly smitten.” A beat of silence passed, followed by feminine giggles and a long-suffering masculine groan. “No, don’t write that! Who are you writing to, your elderly aunt? Yes, that’s better, but scratch that out and try impassioned instead.”

Resting her forehead against the door, Sofia closed her eyes against a swooping rush of… what? Fondness? Admiration? Affection? Whatever it was, it was far from the disinterest that her sensible brain demanded.

“Sofia, is that you?” Annie called out.

Lifting her head, Sofia schooled her features and opened the door. “Yes. How’s the letter writing coming along?”

Polly and Annie huddled side by side on the rug, balled up parchment scattered about. Behind them, Christopher perched on the edge of a chair, elbows on his knees, reading the most recent draft over Annie’s shoulder.

Annie shrugged. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at putting my feelings on paper. Patrick has a sophisticated mind. Did real good in school. I don’t know what a man like that would fancy in a letter.”

“Scoot over, poppet.” Christopher slid off the chair to the floor, settling between the girls. “Bollocks to his sophisticated mind. Men are all the same when they fancy a girl. It doesn’t matter how smart he is because…” His gaze slid down to his lap, where the fingers of one hand curled around his knee. “Because from the moment he set eyes on you, he skipped right over logic and reason and went straight to instinct. When he tears open your envelope with his heartbeat pounding in his ears, he’s not hoping for a pretty list of compliments, he’s starving for the sound of your voice. He’s searching through the pages for a moment of levity because, when he reads those words, he’ll see the shape of your lips when you smile. And he’ll savour the last line, because when it’s over, the world will fade back to the ordinary place it was before and the longing for you will begin all over again.”

No one spoke. Colour bled across Christopher’s cheeks until the blush that stained his skin stood out like a beacon in the dark. When he finally raised his eyes, in an agony of slowness, they landed on Sofia’s.

Annie looked from Christopher to Sofia, then began fanning herself vigorously with her letter. “Lord above, Christopher. If I could write words as pretty as yours, Patrick would show up at my door an hour later, half dazed and with his tongue lolling out of his mouth.”

“I’m surprised you even remember Patrick’s name!” Polly said with a giggle. “I’m afraid I’ve gone and fallen in love with you, Christopher.” She pretended to swoon, her head falling into his lap amidst spurts of laughter. Only then did Christopher break the tether between him and Sofia, a lopsided grin creeping onto his face as he ruffled Polly’s auburn hair. “Flattering as your declaration of affection is, my sweet, I’m afraid I’m nearly old enough to be your papa.”