Free Scandal of the Year by Olivia Drake Page A

be expected to travel with the family. You see, I grew up not far from there.”
    “You’re from Lancashire, too?” The connection intrigued her. “What is your given name? Perhaps Papa or Mama knows your family.”
    He frowned. “I assure you, they do not.”
    “How can you be so certain?”
    “I was an orphan of no consequence.” James skewered her with his sharp gaze. “And I must beg you not to trouble your parents with trivialities.”
    “But you said you were companion to the son of a gentleman. Maybe they knew him—”
    “Please do not mention it,” he reiterated. “Pray take into consideration my position here. Above all, I am to be inconspicuous, a nameless, faceless servant. Calling undue attention to myself could result in me losing my post.”
    Understanding flooded her. For a few short minutes they’d chatted as equals and she’d nearly forgotten he was a member of the staff, subject to strict rules and regulations. She could never bear to be the instrument of him being tossed out onto the street with no funds and nowhere to go.
    Seeking to reassure him, she stepped swiftly to him and touched his arm. “Of course I won’t tell. You may trust me on that, James.”
    He stood very still, looking down at her. She had a sudden keen awareness of the muscles beneath his coat, the heat of his body, his faintly spicy scent. Her pulse throbbed in response to the innate masculine power of him. The shocking desire to experience his kiss held her motionless. From the way his gaze flitted to her lips, she was thrilled to realize that he too felt the same forbidden urge.
    Abruptly, he stepped back and broke the spell. “I appreciate your kindness, Miss Crompton. Now, I’m afraid I’ve overstayed my welcome here. Good day.”
    He picked up the breakfast tray and strode toward the bedroom door. Feeling oddly bereft, Blythe watched him go. How imprudent of her to feel an illicit attraction to a servant .
    Impulse made her call out to him. “James, wait!”
    He stopped, looking back at her in cool inquiry.
    Snatching up the peacock feather, Blythe ran to him and placed it on the tray. She graced him with a warm smile. “You forgot this.”
    He glanced down at the feather, then at her. “So I did.”
    His dark eyes revealed nothing of his thoughts. He had become a remote stranger again, as if their friendly conversation had never occurred. Turning away, he disappeared out the door.
    Blythe stood wishing she had another excuse to summon him back. Foolish as it was, she couldn’t deny her fascination with the footman. Knowing that he hailed from Lancashire only added another layer of mystery to James. Why had he suddenly turned cool when she’d suggested asking her parents if they knew of his family?
    Blythe was determined to find the answer to that question—and many others. Whether it was indiscreet or not.

Chapter 9
    A line of footmen, identical in blue livery and white wigs, walked along an upstairs corridor. Their steps echoed on the pale marble floor. Each servant carried a serving piece still steaming from the kitchen. The delectable aromas of roast beef and browned potatoes wafted through the air.
    Bringing up the rear, James bore a covered oval dish in his gloved hands. The more senior footmen had been assigned duty during the soup and fish courses, and it had seemed for a time as if he might never have the chance to go above stairs. He had cooled his heels in the kitchen until he’d been summoned by Godwin, the fox-faced head footman jokingly referred to behind his back as God .
    Now, a keen anticipation gripped James. This moment had been more than three days coming. At last he would have the opportunity to take a close look at the master of the house.
    Was George Crompton really James’s cousin—or an imposter?
    The tall arched doorway of the dining chamber loomed midway along the passage. One by one, the footmen disappeared into the room. James followed in their wake, his fingers tensed