Henry was silent.
“Consider the pressure she’s been under. She’s quite a nice person and deserves a second chance.”
Henry cracked a smile. “Coming from you, Charles, that’s a very objective endorsement, and one to be taken quite seriously.”
Chloe unlocked her knees and couldn’t help but laugh.
Sebastian sank deeper in his chair, barely awake.
Henry stepped right up to Chloe and leaned on his pool cue.
Chloe wanted this kind of attention from Sebastian, not from him.
Henry smirked. “Pray tel Miss Parker I wil consider her apology. I appreciate the trouble she has gone to in order to express her sentiments. She put herself quite at risk by sending you here, Charles.”
Chloe realized she’d just prioritized Henry over the money, and it shocked her almost as much as it apparently shocked him.
Henry eyed her up and down. “I have to say, though, Charles, you are the most adroit little footman I’ve ever seen. I’l inquire if we can hire you here at Dartworth. It just so happens that I need a new valet. Would you be interested in the position?” He almost brushed his hand against her cheek.
A valet dressed—and undressed—his master. Chloe stopped herself from mental y undressing Henry right then and there.
“I’m quite happy at Bridesbridge at the moment,” she replied modestly.
“I understand. Just let me know if you change your mind,” Henry said.
As he was speaking, the doors behind him opened and a videocam crew came filing in. Henry guided Chloe toward the door. “Now, Charles, you had best get back to Bridesbridge.” He spoke so quickly, she hardly understood him. “It’s getting late. Did you ride here on horseback at this hour?”
“No, sir.” Chloe pul ed on her coattails. “I walked.”
A look of astonishment and what could only be termed affection flitted across Henry’s face. “Charles. I insist you take a gig. It’s too late to walk. I’l ring to have one readied for you.”
Chloe took a shal ow bow.
“Now—run along, Charles!” Henry planted the candelabrum in her hand, propel ed her into the hal way, and made a point of blocking the cameras from filming her.
Another video cam popped out from round the corner just as she broke into a jog, doing her best to keep the candelabrum alight. With the cameraman hot on her coattails, and Henry behind him, she hurried through the labyrinth of dark hal s as if she were being chased through a museum at night. Before she shut the great doors behind her, she passed off the candelabrum with only one candle alight to the night watchman, who told her a gig was waiting for her out front.
Once outside, she stopped only for a moment at the top of the wide, palatial stone staircase glimmering in the moonlight. Just the other night a footman had handed her out of a chaise-and-four and she’d waltzed up these stairs in her gown, gloves, and dancing slippers. Down she went now, taking three steps at a time. One of her calfskin shoes fel off, but she didn’t stop. Stockinged foot and al , she hopped into the gig and looked around for the driver.
She could almost hear the proverbial crickets.
The stable boy handed her the reins, because there wasn’t a driver.
“Damn! Of course there’s no driver! I’m a footman!
The stable boy cocked his head at her, like a dog who knew he was being spoken to but was unable to understand the words. He hung two glowing oil lanterns on the front of the gig. “Just have it sent back in the morning,” he told her.
The seat felt cold and hard. The stable boy stuck the whip into her hands. The horse breathed out of his nostrils and snorted. Terror whipped through her. She’d never driven a horse and buggy! She looked back toward the blazing torches flanking the great front doors at Dartworth Hal . The doors swung open. Two video cams and a boom boy appeared. Henry sidestepped down the stairs and swooped down to pick up her shoe as one of the cameramen barreled down the steps.
“Can you, would you, drive me back to Bridesbridge?” she asked the stable boy. “I’m new and not used to these gigs.”
The stable boy shrugged his shoulders and hopped in next to her. With a flick of his wrist the horses lurched forward, and it wasn’t long before the camera crew was wel behind them.
The moon was floating high in the night sky now, in what would’ve been a perfectly romantic night if she weren’t crouched in front of a horse’s butt dressed in men’s clothes. She was torn between men and money, past and present, bending the rules and breaking them.
They approached Bridesbridge in silence.
“Thanks for the ride. I real y appreciate it.”
The stable boy shrugged his shoulders again, but as soon as Chloe climbed out, she saw the camera crew catching up to her on an ATV.
Just as she thought her little venture in deception was about to blow up in her face, the scul ery door creaked open, Cook held a candlestick into the night, and cal ed out, “Come in, footman! Teapot’s on!”
Cook held the door open wide and Chloe stumbled toward the candlelight and the vague thought of hot tea. She slunk into the kitchen, where a teapot was steaming on the range. The smel of potato peels and yeast enveloped her.
