Page 14 of The Demons of Wychwood

CHAPTER 9

CHORES

I stood in the grand foyer, and as was my routine, listened to the sounds of the house to hear if there was anything out of the ordinary. All was as expected, the silence only broken by the ticking of clocks. I removed my employer’s letter from my pocket, unfolded it, and read the list of requirements, then startled at hearing the tip-tap of footsteps. On turning toward the sound, I saw Kit had paused on the stairway from the kitchen. He’d finally removed his greatcoat, so I supposed he was stopping for a while. The thought of that sent a shiver through me. I was curious as to why he’d wanted to stay after getting answers to his questions. No, I ain’t a spy. No, I ain’t going to tell anyone about your fancy, and I mean you no harm.

Hadn’t he found the information he wanted? Was he not satisfied? I guess that discovering it was little old me, and not his Edward who had saved him from bleeding to death must’ve been quite a surprise. Did he want something else from me? It’s not as if I had anything else to give. I was here at Wychwood to do my job, and then I was supposed to go home to Elowen and Bess, and carry on my, what did he call it, oh yes, my ‘mundane and ordinary’ life. While we appeared to like each other’s company, milord and I were from different worlds.

I couldn’t deny that Kit was bollock-achingly handsome in his navy frock coat with shiny gold buttons. Beneath was a lovely purple and gold embroidered waistcoat and white lawn shirt. He looked at home in this house, like some men really are born to fit into such grandeur. His dark curls were a little longer than was fashionable, but it all added to the picture of the troubled romantic hero I’d read about in the storybooks I got for Elowen. My sister was word blind, and so I read stories to her most nights before we turned in, just as I’d read to the men in my regiment. Our captain had brought a whole trunk of books on our sea journey that included Byron, Shelley, Austen, and Sir Walter Scott. As many of the men couldn’t read, I became the regiment’s storyteller. I hope that those stories gave a little comfort to boys so far away from home.

Kit was staring at me with those dark brown pools of eyes and seemed unsure about what to do next. I was frozen in place for a moment, my thoughts washed away as our gazes trained on one another. One of the mantle clocks was running fast and sang out for the half-hour early. That shocked me from my trance. I hurriedly checked my watch and was relieved to see I had a couple of minutes before Jim arrived. I silently turned away from Lord Penhelligan’s stare and strode into the gentleman’s parlor where I lit the fire and checked that the maids had dusted properly. Then I continued moving from room to room, lighting the fires and ensuring all tasks had been done to the standard expected by my employer.

As I passed the parlor on the way back to the kitchen to bring in the deliveries, I saw that Kit had taken a chair by the hearth. He sat with his fingers steepled, and his eyes closed as if he was deep in thought, or asleep. I left him to his business while I got on with mine.

Jim delivered the wares as usual and when he’d gone, I got to work displaying the platters of food for the party. I was very aware of the fact that Kit was in the house. I didn’t understand why he was still here. Surely, he must have somewhere to be, some lordly duty, or meeting, or a gentleman’s club he could attend if he wanted to hide from his responsibilities. The doors of Wychwood were not open to members until seven-thirty, so why was he lingering? As if he knew that I was thinking about him, I looked up from working on a floral display and there he was standing silently in the doorway, watching me again with curious eyes.

“Isn’t there somewhere you’re supposed to be, milord?” I poked. Kit smiled but didn’t move further into the kitchen.

“There is, actually,” he admitted. “I was supposed to be at a debate in the Lords, but I can’t quite bring myself to be bothered today.” He paused and leaned on the doorjamb, making an attractive silhouette. His curls hung loosely nearly to his shoulders, and I remembered the scent of lemon pomade in his hair and felt the urge to run my fingers through those lovely shiny curls again. I’d never been too bothered about a man’s hair before, but Kit’s curls drove me crazy with want. As I pushed stems into the vase to make my display, I saw I was trembling. I didn’t want him to see how his presence affected me.

“That sounds terrible, doesn’t it…me with the privilege of voting to change the laws of the land, and not bothering to attend.”

“It does sound terrible,” I agreed, giving him a mischievous smirk.

“It‘s rather tedious, you know, at the House of Lords. Braying old men bellowing at one another, the pomp, and stifling rules. I hate it,” Kit admitted.

I was pleased that he seemed comfortable enough to tell me this and hoped he was warming to me, and not just being nice to encourage me to keep his secrets.

“What would you rather be doing?”

Kit appeared thoughtful for a moment and then smiled. I had to look away cos he looked so lovely my knees felt like they would buckle. I’d never had a cove make me feel like this before, and it was ridiculous that I wanted to drop what I was doing, step up to him, and clasp his face in my hands. I wanted to kiss him, which was strange, cos I didn’t have much experience of kissing neither. There was no time for something so intimate when giving a fellow soldier a quick rub in the shadows.

“I’m an architect,” Kit admitted. “I’m working on plans for the renovations of my family estate in the West Country. I haven’t visited the estate in many years, and I fear I’ve neglected my responsibilities there for far too long.”

“That is interesting. I’m rather familiar with architecture myself,”

“You are?” Kit sounded bemused, as if a man such as me wouldn’t know the difference between a Corinthian pilaster and architrave.

“My old man taught me how to read architect's plans,” I admitted proudly, “which came in handy when—” I paused, wondering why my lips were so loose around this man. I didn’t want Kit to know that I was the son of a thief and that learning to read plans was part of my training. I’d tried hard to make a new life for Elowen and me, and we didn’t want any association with my Pa or his crimes. Ferron Lazarus was, as far as I knew, still rotting in a cell in his native Devon.

“Yes?” Kit prompted excitedly.

“Oh, nuffin’…nuffin’,” I excused. “Look, as you’re here you might as well make yerself useful. Take that vase—” I instructed. I knew I was out of order bossing a lord around, but we were on friendly terms now and I couldn’t let him distract me from my tasks no more. Like a good boy, Kit did as he was told and lifted the crystal vase brimming with hothouse roses and lilies.

“Follow me.” I picked up the twin display and carried it out of the kitchen and up into the drawing-room.

In the drawing-room, I placed my vase on one of two console tables on either side of the fireplace. Kit placed his vase on the other without the need for instruction.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Kit said, sounding all keen innocence.

“You must have something better to do, milord!” The man was a distraction and quite frankly, my usual focus and attention to detail had flown the nest and my noggin was befuddled by his presence.

“I have a hundred other ways I could be spending my time, but I’m here, and as we have an understanding, I’d…like to get to know you a little better, Felix.”

“Oh!” Now I was even more befuddled.

“We’d might as well complete your tasks together while we talk, yes? So, is there any way I can make myself useful?”

My eyes appreciatively roamed up and down Kit Havelock’s form and couldn’t hold back my filthy grin. I could think of many ways he could make himself useful. But no, not on my employer’s time. This job was a gift, and I still had lots of work to do.