“Why do you ask?” he dared inquire.
Even in the twilight he could see her blush. “No reason! Most of us at Perusia have been with the Tates forever. I didn’t know how you might feel in Marslip.”
Well now. To Marslip, he was indifferent. The Tates and St. Jameses were perfectly decent. But Jennie . . .
Perhaps it was time to test his luck a little.
“Hoping I’ll give notice?” he asked.
“No!” Jennie almost shrieked. Her heart thudded alarmingly. That was the very last thing she wanted. “Of course not,” she managed to add more calmly. “I only wondered . . .”
She wondered why he had bought a bottle of champagne—expensive wine!—for the two of them. She wondered what he meant by inviting her to sit out here on the roof with him. They’d simply sat in the kitchen hall, talking and relaxing, on other nights the St. Jameses had gone out.
And she wondered how this fine London valet, accustomed to serving lords, could stay in a hamlet like Marslip. Not that she wanted him to leave—very much the opposite. But other girls had warned her about restless men, and she didn’t want to be silly about him.
“What did you wonder?” His voice could be so soft, like warmed velvet.
Jennie melted a little inside when he spoke to her like that.
“I only wondered if you’re satisfied with Mr. St. James, or if you were anxious to find another place. Now that you’re back in London, I’m sure you could—in a matter of hours, most like. And then you wouldn’t have to go back to Marslip, with the terrible roads and no parks and only a handful of shops . . .”
He put down his glass and twisted to face her. “I don’t want to leave Marslip.”
“No?” Her voice squeaked with relief.
He smiled. “Never.”
She blinked. Never?
“If I left, I’d miss you,” he said in reply to her unasked question.
“Would you?”
“Yes.”
She blushed again. “How much?”
His smile faded a little. His eyes were dark and intense. “Too much.”
“Well.” Her heart was throbbing with delight. “I’m glad. I’d miss you fiercely if you left.”
“Would you really? Why?”
She nibbled her lip, and drank more champagne, and then just said it. “I’m right fond of you, you know.”
His smile returned, blinding with happiness. He leaned forward, and Jennie met him halfway.
It was a soft kiss, the sort of kiss a girl could fall into and linger over for days at a time. His hands, large and strong but still elegant, cupped her jaw and Jennie almost swooned into him.
“Right fond, eh?” he breathed, his lips on her brow.
Jennie choked on a giggle. “Am I supposed to say I fancy you? Is that what you’re after?”
He laughed softly, and drew her next to him, his arm warm and comforting across her shoulders. “It is indeed. For I fancy you more than any other girl alive.”
Things were glorious after that.
Kit contrived to accompany Jennie whenever she had to visit the shops. Even running errands was delightful when he did so with Jennie’s arm through his. He pointed out sights and people to her as they went, grinning at her wide-eyed interest.
He also found himself growing more fond of Marslip. Surely there it would be easier to find a quiet unobserved corner to steal another kiss. He was glad they were going home soon.
Even better, Kit was sure his mood mirrored his employer’s. It was plain to see that Mr. and Mrs. St. James were warming to each other. That augured well for his future.
The only fly in the ointment was that Mr. St. James had a secret, potentially a dangerous one. Kit didn’t know what it was, and frankly did not want to know. He was under orders to watch for any letters and deliver them personally and immediately to his employer, without letting anyone else in the household see them. Twice he was sent out on the spot to deliver replies. And once, he was sent to watch over Mrs. St. James and Jennie, who were inspecting shop premises.
He had no idea whom he was supposed to fight, but he was ready, if the bloke threatened Jennie or her mistress.
But nothing happened, and then they went home. Even that journey, in the coach with the luggage, was an adventure. He held Jennie’s hand and they took turns laughing at passersby, flocks of sheep being driven to market, a stray cow in the road, even strange shapes in the clouds. It was hard to be bad humored around Jennie.
Ever.
In fact, just thinking about her made him happy.
He realized what it meant the morning he went to the master’s bedchamber, a pitcher of hot shaving water in his hands, and found Jennie standing uncertainly outside the mistress’s door. “She’s not there,” she whispered, wringing her hands.
Kit paused and leaned his ear against the wood. Soft murmurings—two voices—made him grin. “Come away,” he whispered back, taking Jennie’s hand and leading her downstairs. “They don’t want us now.”
St. James had won his lady’s heart. Kit knew it the moment he finally set eyes on the man, a good two hours later than usual. He was in love.
Just as Kit was.
He began to think about a life here. The most heartening example, to his eyes, was Jennie’s own parents, who were housekeeper and butler at Perusia Hall. Why couldn’t he and Jennie be the same, sharing a snug suite of rooms and going about their work side by side?
Sometimes they talked, late at night, sitting on the landing between their rooms in Poplar House. Jennie would bring up cups of warm milk and Kit would build the fire in her tiny fireplace. She told him about her childhood, running errands for her mother around Marslip and learning her letters at the
