Chapter Thirteen #2
Digby corked the vial, looking pleased with himself. “Aye. This is my own blend. Lavender for the nerves, bergamot for clarity, and mint to sharpen the senses. I was taught to blend oils by a housekeeper in my first household. She said a man’s bath should restore more than just his body.”
James studied him, curious about Digby’s past. “How old were you then?”
“Eleven, my lord.” Digby began working the buttons of James’s waistcoat, his fingers sure despite their calloused tips.
“Boot boy, initially. Then scullery. I learned that staying useful meant staying fed. My mother depended on my wages. Like yours, my father passed away when I was young, leaving just me to care for my mother.” His voice carried the quiet matter-of-factness of someone who’d never had the luxury of childhood.
“Is she still alive?” James asked.
“Yes, my lord. She lives in the village with her sister. They are my only family.”
James’s stomach clenched as those careful hands moved to his shirt. His fists closed automatically, an old defense. He did not want anyone to see his back, the scars that told part of the story of his life. “I can manage the rest.”
Digby paused, meeting his eyes. “Of course, my lord. Though I should mention—I’ve seen much in my years of service. Nothing troubles me.”
James forced his hands to unclench and slowed his breathing. Digby would not judge him. He understood how it was to grow up hard. And anyway, a gentleman was expected to use his valet in this way, even though it felt odd to James. “Very well. Continue.”
The shirt came away with gentle efficiency. He waited for a reaction from his new valet but none came, even though the scars across his back were impossible to hide.
“Courtesy of my cousin’s husband.” James kept his voice carefully light. “He didn’t much care for me or my brother.”
Digby’s hands stilled as he folded the shirt—always in thirds, James had noticed, a habit that spoke of order imposed on chaos. When he spoke, his voice was quiet but firm. “It pains me to see what was done to a child. To any child.”
“He was a man who found pleasure in power over the powerless.” James stepped into the tub then, the hot water a shock at first but he quickly acclimated.
He had to admit, it felt good to sink low into the water and let it soothe his tired muscles.
Despite his new title, he had worked as hard as any of the men they’d hired to restore his home.
Just today, he’d helped to clear a pile of bricks from one of the upstairs rooms.
Digby knelt beside the bath, adding another drop of oil. The mint sharpened the air, clearing James’s head as he relaxed further. “Digby, I could grow accustomed to this.”
“As you should, my lord.” Digby offered a sea sponge. “As far as your cousin and her husband. They’ll answer for it someday. Whether in this life or whatever comes after.”
James took the sponge, smiling at the memory of the frequent scoldings he’d gotten from the governess. “When I was a boy—before we were sent away—I was always getting a tongue lashing for being dirty. They couldn’t keep me from playing outside in the mud and dirt.”
“A boy should have that freedom.”
James chuckled. “Our governess did not agree. But Papa did. He didn’t mind that I would rather be outside than inside sitting quietly with a book.”
“Do you have many memories of him?”
“Yes, quite a few. Which is surprising given how young I was when they took him from us. He was an unusual man for his time and station in life. He spent a lot of time with his children. We were quite attached to him.”
“I hope soon this house will be filled with the sounds of children playing, both inside and out.”
He glanced up at Digby as a strange sensation came to his belly. Children. Laughter. Love.
Suddenly, he knew with certainty that he wanted that. He had been mistaken when he told Georgie he could not imagine a scenario in which he would marry and have a family.
There was one sole reason for that. Georgie. He could imagine it with her. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but his desires for the future and his belief that good things would come to him had shifted.
He wanted it with her. But would she ever consider such a prospect? He would do his best to win her heart. Yes, just like that, he understood his purpose going forward. It was to win Georgina Fairfax’s heart and hand.
*
Twenty minutes later, James sat in his robe before the hearth while Digby moved through the bedchamber.
“Tell me, Digby, do you find it tedious?” James asked. “Dressing a man? Taking care of his boots?”
Digby’s hands stilled for a moment. When he looked up, his gaze was steady, loyal. “My lord, I consider myself a lucky man to have acquired such a position. There is no such thing as tedious work if one approaches it as both important and artful.”
“Important and artful. I like that idea very much.”
“I understand this is a period of adjustment for you.” Digby’s voice held no judgment, only understanding. “It’s my privilege to serve you however you need.”
Moved by his words, James fought against the sting behind his eyes. “It does not bother you that I’m a little rough?”
Digby folded a pressed cravat with deliberate care. “Not at all. In fact, it makes me feel proud to help you. Even if you do not yet feel a gentleman, you will very soon.”
“You have a momentous task ahead of you,” James said, chuckling. “To make me appear a gentleman will take more than a new wardrobe.”
“I’ll not let you stumble, my lord.”
“Digby, may I share a concern with you?”
Digby glanced up from brushing James’s coat. “Indeed, my lord.”
James ran a hand through his still damp hair.
“The Season will soon be upon us and I find myself woefully unprepared. I do not know the rules of Society. I’ve not been trained to be a gentleman.
I am sure there are whispers still about my family.
Everyone will be watching me, out of curiosity and perhaps malice too. People love to see a man fail.”
“And why does their opinion matter? You have wealth and power now.”
“Normally, I would not care. I’m still a rogue, under all the finery.
But it’s not just me at stake.” James’s voice grew tight.
“Cecily needs to make a good match. She’s beautiful and clever, but if I embarrass her, it would lead to trouble.
I’m sponsoring her, so I must present well.
” He halted, then forced himself to continue.
“And there’s someone else I care about. Someone whose reputation could be damaged by association with me. ”
Digby set down the brush, giving James his full attention. “Mrs. Fairfax?”
Heat crept up James’s neck. “Is it so obvious?”
“Not to all, but I pay particular notice to everything you do and say.” Digby’s mouth quirked slightly. “She seems a woman of considerable sense.”
“She is. Which is exactly why I can’t afford to make a fool of myself.
One wrong step, one moment where I look like the uncouth devil I am, and I’ll have ruined everything for them.
” James’s hands clenched on the arms of his chair.
“Most concerning? I don’t know how to dance properly.
I’ll be expected to lead ladies through the quadrille, the waltz—God help me—and I’ll likely step on their feet or miss the timing entirely.
” James dropped his head into his hands.
“Can you imagine? The gossips will have a field day. ‘Lord Ashford, returned from exile, still can’t manage a simple country dance.’ They’ll tear me apart, and by extension, they’ll destroy Cecily’s prospects. ” And possibly drive Georgie away.
Digby was quiet for a long moment, folding a cravat. “My lord, these are all problems we can solve.”
“How can I possibly learn to dance in time?” James asked.
“Monsieur Lefevre. He will help.”
James blinked. “Who?”
“A dancing master of considerable skill. French, naturally—they have the best sense of these things. He’s discreet, efficient, and has transformed gentlemen with far less natural grace than yourself.
” Digby’s tone grew practical. “I took the liberty of making inquiries after our conversation about the Season yesterday. He is available, if you’re willing. ”
James stared at him. “You already arranged this? But how did you know?”
“I made preliminary inquiries only. The decision remains yours, my lord. But I’ve found that practical solutions tend to ease abstract worries.”
“You think he can teach me? Truly? In time for the Season?”
“Monsieur Lefevre has prepared gentlemen for their first Season in less time with remarkable results. You have natural coordination and, more importantly, strong motivation. Those are his favorite pupils. Although he’ll never let on.
He’s known for his vigor and insistence on excellence, not compliments. Or coddling, as he puts it.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“My lord, if I may be so bold, learning to play the part of a gentleman is considerably easier than the other challenges you’ve faced. Your childhood. The war.” Digby smiled. “You will flourish. I’ve no doubt.”
“And if I stumble? Step on Mrs. Fairfax’s toes in front of half the ton?”
Digby straightened another book as he passed. “Then we shall ensure you recover with such grace that they remember your composure, not your misstep. But you won’t stumble, my lord. Certainly not after Monsieur Lefevre is finished with you.”
James studied his new valet. Digby was a man who excelled at his job. If Digby could do it, so could he.
“What about the rest of it? All the rules and such?” James asked.
“There are many, but we’ll take them one at a time.”
Digby began ticking them off calmly, as if reciting a familiar prayer.
“When attending a ball, you must bow when entering the room, and again to the hostess. Only once you’ve done so may you begin requesting dances.
Never ask a lady for more than two in one evening, lest it appear you are courting her. ”
James muttered, “What if I am?”