The Swordmaster's Mistress: Dangerous Deceptions Book Two(20)
The blush deepened, but Dover persevered. ‘I happened to see Flynn this afternoon. This is my half-day off. I am an under-footman, sir, with Lord Porton. But I have ambitions to better myself.’
‘And you think working as the sole servant to a non-titled swordmaster will do that?’
‘I wish to learn swordsmanship, sir. I am willing to work for board and lodgings and tuition. Flynn says that you won’t always be living in the middle of a building site and that I’d do well to attach myself to you now.’ He was taut with earnestness, Jared saw, keeping himself still with an effort, like a gundog puppy quivering in anticipation of the order to retrieve.
‘Come in.’ He walked through to the salle d’armes, unlocked a cupboard, took out two foils and without warning tossed one to the young man who caught it by the hilt. ‘Defend yourself.’ And then he attacked.
A frantic two minutes later Anthony Dover was flat against the wall, his foil on the other side of the room and the blunted point of Jared’s blade at his throat.
‘Not bad. How do I know Flynn sent you?’
Dover swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the cold metal. ‘He said perhaps I could persuade you to wear colours, sir, and that he had a purple waistcoat that would be a good start. And he said you had a magnificent figure and would do my reputation as a valet a deal of good if I didn’t make a hash of dressing you.’
Jared lowered his foil and went to pick up the other one. ‘When can you start?’ he said when he turned, his face straight again. Magnificent figure indeed. Michael would pay for that crack.
‘Tomorrow, sir. Lord Porton’s closing up the London house and going to the country and I was to stay as part of the caretaking staff, so I think the butler will let me go without me working my notice. He’ll give me a character, sir. Not that he likes me much, but he’s fair enough.’
‘No need if Flynn vouches for you. Come tomorrow, then. If I am not here the workmen will let you in. If Lord Porton’s butler docks your wages owing in lieu of notice, tell me.’
‘Sir, thank you, sir. I’ll – ’
‘Stop gabbling. You can have bed, board, the proper wage for the position,’ – he’d consult Flynn about that – ‘and tuition. In return I want absolute discretion from you about every aspect of my business. Understand? I know servants gossip – but you never, ever, speak of what I do, what you hear, who comes here. If you do you will wish I merely sacked you as a consequence.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The lad positively blushed. ‘My ambition is to be the kind of valet that Flynn is. You don’t get to be like that without absolute loyalty. Thank you, sir. You won’t regret it.’
‘No, I will not.’ Jared smiled and Dover swallowed visibly.
Chapter Seven
‘Flynn’s found me a manservant,’ Jared remarked as he passed a dish of salsify to Sophie. They were serving themselves without footmen in attendance and they could relax. ‘Youthful, freckled and with a yen to learn swordsmanship. I have no idea where he found him, although he says he is a friend. But not that kind of friend.’
Sophie nodded. She knew about Flynn’s sexuality but Jared suspected that the only thing that mattered to her was that he was loyal to Cal. ‘I know. I overheard him in the kitchen this afternoon – it was his half day and he came round to sob on Flynn’s shoulder. Not literally, of course. It seems the Portman’s butler has a down on him, or, rather, he favours his own nephew who is in service there and young – Dover, is it? – young Dover has been getting the short end of the stick for far too long. You should be all right with him, Flynn is a good judge of character.’
‘Michael has learned to be cautious,’ Cal said. ‘Anyway, I am glad he has found you someone, although whether this young man can raise the dead with as much skill as Flynn has used on that suit of yours remains to be seen.’
Jared glanced down at his immaculate self and nodded. ‘He has made a good job of it, considering that I packed my riding boots and a pile of books on top of it. He is sulking because I won’t wear that confounded waistcoat of yours though.’ His was of black watered silk, as always.
‘I bought it on a whim and he is quite correct, it looks appallingly clerical. I shall have to send it to a charity for distressed prelates, but I will tease him with it a little longer.’
‘Never mind your waistcoats,’ Sophie said with a wave of her empty wine glass. ‘How can we help Lady Northam? Other than by befriending her, of course.’
Jared leaned over to refill her glass. ‘Keep an eye on her this evening. Does anyone watch her in particular? Do you overhear any remarks about her? Someone must hate her.’
Sophie shivered. ‘It is awful. We will do our best.’
Was there anywhere lonelier than the midst of a crowd of people? Guin descended the shallow sweep of stairs down into the Fulborne’s ballroom, her hand on Augustus’s arm, her chin up, a smile on her lips that felt as though it had been tacked there.
She knew she looked well. That was important, that was one of the things that she owed to Augustus. The gown of silver net over palest blue silk was a masterpiece of elegant simplicity, setting off the aquamarine and diamond set that had been her husband’s wedding present. The gems were chill around her neck and over her bosom, the weight of the earrings pinched at her earlobes, her wrists felt weighted down by bracelets and the combs fixing the delicate tiara into her hair seemed to dig in claws.