“I expect you must be exhausted and famished,” Lord Willowdale said, straightening his clothes and fighting another yawn. “But will you fetch Miss Miller some breakfast? She is awake and needs her nourishment.”
“Of course.”
“Then get your own food and rest, too, Mr. Carter. I will have Mr. O’Bannon assign the other armed footmen to watch over her. Later, I may need to discuss how we might catch this bastard with you.”
“I will be happy to assist in any way I can, My Lord.”
“Good. Now I must change for breakfast, as I still have guests.”
At the sound of their voices, Felicity woke to stand in time to curtsey, as Lord Willowdale hurried from Thea’s chambers, giving Liam a wide-eyed stare as he, too, passed her by and headed out the door. Trotting down the steps loosened his stiff muscles from standing all night, and Liam went straight to the kitchen, despite his rumbled livery. Fortunately, any aristocratic guests he encountered paid no more heed to him than the marble statues in the hall.
Fetching a platter filled with eggs, bacon, fresh cut fruit, porridge, a hot pot of tea and cups, Liam hurried back up the stairs before everything got cold. He kicked gently at the door in lieu of knocking, and the door was opened by Felicity. “Lord Willowdale asked me to bring breakfast to Miss Miller,” he explained.
“I will take it in to her.”
Thus, Liam stared as she took the tray from him and swung the door closed in his face. He no longer had any right to remain inside her chambers to be near her. The odor of the hot food did cause his own stomach to protest his mistreatment of it, so he went back down the stairs to the main level, and strode quickly to the east wing.
Vanessa and two of her friends were just leaving the servants’ dining hall as he arrived, almost forcing him to step back to avoid having her smile into his face. Standing his ground, he endured her smoky, dark eyes as she stepped close to him, gazing up, a very wicked expression on her countenance.
“You look like some wench gave you a wild time,” she purred.
Liam shrugged. “You will never know.”
“I would if you let me,” she said, turning on the seductive charm at full force. She thrust her bosom out toward him, her lips slightly parted, her finger trailing lightly down his chest.
Liam could not help but wonder how many other men in the household she had seduced. “Sorry,” he said, pushing past her. “I am busy.”
“Find the time,” she said from behind him, her voice higher by an octave. “Unlike some of these other wenches, I would marry you.”
Marry that creature? Heaven forefend!Liam tried not to shudder as he glanced in her direction. “Should you not be working by now?” he asked, popping a slice of bacon into his mouth.
“Should you not be?”
Liam grinned, a nasty sort of expression. “I have Lord Willowdale’s permission. Do you have my mother’s?”
Vanessa followed her friends after an acid comment regarding his Scottish parentage and being a “mother’s boy”. “You have no idea, wench,” he muttered, filling his plate and sitting down to eat. Once the food hit his stomach, it seemed every part of his body screamed out for sleep. He ate as much as he could hold, then stumbled down the hall to his small room.
Not bothering to undress, he was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
Rudely shaken awake, Liam started up, gasping and snorting. “What?”
“His Lordship wants you.”
Liam blinked up into the stern face of another footman named David, one who had never cared much for Liam since the day they both were trained as footmen in the Willowdale household. David was an Englishman who had a predilection for hating all things Scottish, even its whiskey. “Thank you,” Liam said, rising. “Where is he?”
“You are to join him at Miss Miller’s quarters.” David sneered down at him. “I suggest you shave.”
With that, David turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving Liam alone. Liam mimed the man’s haughty attitude as he stood up, mouthing the words, “I suggest you shave”, and then yawned. “Bloody boor,” he muttered sourly. Doing as David recommended, however, Liam shaved, and put on clean livery and his powdered wig over his red-gold hair. Inspecting himself in his small looking glass, he thought he looked the proper footman, even though his face did appear drawn and haggard.
He found Felicity much more amenable to his entrance into Thea’s private chambers than she displayed when he exited that morning. Thea herself, washed and clad in a dark blue gown, her left arm bandaged and suspended in a sling, was seated in an armchair in her sitting room. She offered Liam a grave nod, with no smile, as he bowed low.
“Mr. Carter, do come in.”
Lord Willowdale, also seated near his sister, gestured for him to join them. Mr. Noonan also gave him a sober nod as he sat, uncomfortable, among them. Thea gestured with her right hand.
“Felicity, please leave us for a while.”
The abigail, her expression sour, curtsied to her mistress, then left the chambers, not quite slamming the door in her annoyance at being excluded. Mr. Noonan studied Liam for a moment, then spoke. “Mr. Carter, I am aware of the services you have done our master and mistress, and wish you to know how much I greatly appreciate your intelligence and dedication.”
