Geoffrey shrugged.“As you wish.”
There.That was settled.Having rules to govern the next week and define their roles made Donovan happy.He liked knowing where the lines were, so that he could stay within them…and out of trouble.
He’d spent years avoiding social situations when possible, and comporting himself appropriately when they could not be avoided.Just like he’d spent years tamping down his inconvenient feelings for his valet.He knew how he was expected to behave, and did his best to act accordingly.
Donovan abhorred change of any sort.He’d been born with the forewarning that taking a bride would one day alter his life, but he had not been prepared forthis.Sharing a bedchamber with Geoffrey was more than a mere disruption to the ordinary.Donovan would have to do everything in his power to limit their time together in this room to the hours in which both were fast asleep.
It was a good thing there was a festival taking place right outside these walls.It was the perfect distraction.
Even if it meant willingly submerging himself in social interaction.
A knock sounded on the door.Geoffrey glanced at Donovan.“Shall I?”
“Please.”
Their valises had arrived.Donovan watched in silence as his valet unpacked his own valise first, only to recall once Geoffrey finished and wandered back to the parlor to inspect the tea set that his valet was no longer his acting valet.
Lips pressed tight, Donovan went over to his trunk and opened a lid.There were all his things, packed with care by Geoffrey before they had left the ducal town house.Donovan opened the doors and drawers of the armoire and transferred everything inside as neatly as he could, taking care to ensure his unmentionables did not touch Geoffrey’s.
He was tempted to touch them himself.Geoffrey had seen the duke in his altogether on countless occasions, but Donovan had never glimpsed his valet in anything short of sartorial perfection.What might Geoffrey look like in nothing more than a nightshirt?
Donovan kept his fingers from straying toward the neatly folded garment.Rules were rules for a reason.They protected him.
He shut the drawer and turned to the looking-glass to run a hand through his hair.Geoffrey looked as though he’d stepped out of a fashion plate, but the duke looked like he’d spent hours trapped inside a carriage.His cravat was askew and his coat was wrinkled and his hair had sprouted five new cowlicks.
Donovan tamed his hair as best he could with a comb and a bit of water from the nightstand.Trying to right his cravat resulted in mangling the folds even more.As for his wrinkled coat, the duke did not have the least notion how to iron clothing.His appearance would have to do for now.
He paused in the doorway to the parlor.Geoffrey was seated in the center of the sofa, head back, eyes closed, his long fingers folded in his lap.
“Are you sleeping?”the duke said softly.
His valet’s eyes opened.“Just thinking.”
“About the festival?”Donovan asked hopefully.The festival was a safe topic.Men and women engaged in courtship.Nothing at all to do with him and Geoffrey.
“About afterwards,” his valet answered.
Not after the festival, Donovan realized.After Geoffrey left the duke’s employ.
“Will you return to France?”he asked as casually as he could.
Geoffrey had been a recent arrival in England when he’d first become part of the duke’s household.Twenty years later, only a trace of his accent remained.The few family members he’d had were long gone, too.But that did not mean he’d continue to make this country his home.Not when a valet of his caliber could find work in a palace if he so wished.
“We’ll see what happens,” Geoffrey said noncommittally.
Donovan’s heart twisted.He had nevernotknown what to do.Being a duke was easy in that sense.All peers were expected to do the same things.Take a seat in the House of Lords, take a well-connected bride, take apartments in London for the spring and spend the summer in his country estates.
There were tenants and accounts and investments and ledgers, all of which also came with pre-set expectations.Everything was prescribed.Who to dance with, who to marry, who to sit next to at the dinner table, who to bow to, which debts to pay in which order.
Donovan disliked taking risks in grand part because there was never any need to.Not when every aspect of his life had been planned for him and others like him.By the time his father died fifteen years ago, Donovan already knew exactly what to do.Everyone in his class knew everyone else and was expected to play their roles as assigned, and keep to their own kind.There was already a mold.All Donovan had to do was fill it.
He could not imagine moving to a new country.Or searching for employment.The thought of ingratiating himself with total strangers made his skin crawl.And the thought of Geoffrey bathing some other man… rubbing his feet… fastening his buttons…
White-hot jealousy galvanized Donovan’s muscles.It was all he could do to grit his teeth in silence and maintain his stiff pose beside the open doorway.He needed to get out of this apartment before his wayward thoughts drove him mad.
He retrieved a folded paper from an inner pocket.It was as wrinkled as Donovan’s coat, but still perfectly legible.“The innkeeper was kind enough to provide us with a map of the town, but assured me one need only follow the flood of people in the direction of noise and laughter.”
A grin lit Geoffrey’s face.“Excellent.Let us see how much trouble we can get into.”
