The meal at the pub had been overcooked and the room noisy, but Bram was so charming and funny that it was easily one of the best dinners I’d ever had. I marveled at how just one acquaintance held the power to change my perspective. I’d been depressed and lonely for the past week, but my mood was quite the opposite after a short afternoon out.
The kitchen and workrooms were cramped and dark, but they were organized and kept free of clutter. I was amazed that so much of the upkeep of the château came from this small area. The servants slept on the third floor, in rooms hardly bigger than closets, giving ample space to the parts of the château reserved for Count Montoni and his family. Those rooms were open and ornately decorated, although I’d seen very little of them thus far. From what I could tell, it looked expensive but was dark and drab. Windows were fitted with heavy drapes, the furniture stiff and a blue so deep they may as well have been black. It certainly wasn’t to my taste but suited the gloomy disposition of Montoni.
The tableaux were the worst part of the château. I knew many grand houses decorated with taxidermy animals to portray moments of gruesome confrontation, but they were not to my taste. There seemed no rhyme or reason for where they were positioned. I would turn to a corner of a room, and there would be a patch of tall grass, or a pheasant bursting from the reeds to escape a fox, as if frozen in time. It was hard to tear my eyes from such morbid scenes, but they also left me more than a little unsettled.
As I continued up the narrow hallway, I paused at a side table, having noted a spider sitting in the middle of a web. It was a brown and black thing with visible dark pools of eyes and long, thick legs covered in fine hair. I’d come across several similar arachnids in the previous week, and cobwebs seemed to appear out of nowhere. I wondered if there was an infestation somewhere. They weren’t exactly small spiders, either, but could fit comfortably in the palm of my hand. Not that I was going to hold one.
I grabbed an empty vase and scooped the spider inside, careful to cover it with a cloth as I carried it to the door and let the spider outside. I hated to kill anything unnecessarily, even a creepy little spider that had way too much hair for its own good.
“There you go,” I said, dusting off my hands as I watched the spider scamper into the grass. “You’ll be very happy out here.”
That done, I replaced the vase and cloth on the side table when my eyes drifted to the spiderweb left behind. I supposed I had better clean that up as well.
“You must be Dupont.” A man well into his fifties with a thin mustache hurried over to me. “Grimes said you would be helping with my valet duties tonight.”
I pivoted to face him. “Good to meet you. You must be Fournier.”
“I am, but we can exchange pleasantries later. There’s much to do. If you haven’t had supper, don’t expect any until after we’ve seen to the young master.”
I inclined my head, not letting on to the fact that I had, indeed, already eaten.
“Can you sew?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Sew? No, I—”
“Well, I don’t have time to teach you. You’ll be cleaning the boots then. Come along. I’ll show you what to do.”
I gave one last regretful look back at the spider’s empty web before following.
The next few hours were busier than I’d expected. I hadn’t realized all that went into a valet’s duties. I’d assumed they just helped their master get dressed, arranged things for them, and accompanied them on their travels. Of course, I’d never studied their daily chores in any detail. Nor had I ever pondered what they consisted of. Coming to Château le Blanc as Second Man had been enough of a lesson. I’d thought I could get by with what I’d seen around La Vallée growing up, but I’d needed a tour from Grimes to truly educate me on the tasks I was to perform.
Count Morano was nephew to the master of the house, Count Montoni. Morano had been away for the past fortnight, so I hadn’t yet met him, or his sister, who’d also been traveling. I’d only seen Count Montoni this past week, a middle-aged man who spoke in a clipped way to the servants. I didn’t particularly like him, but I couldn’t exactly afford to be picky. I could only hope that his wards were more amiable.
There was plenty to do upon the young count and lady’s return. It didn’t help matters that Morano rang for us early, which meant that he was turning in well before the other members of the family.
“Just let me do all the talking,” Fournier told me. “Follow my lead.”
Which was all I really could do, given that I had no other experience to draw from.
After a quick knock on a door on the second floor, and a muffled reply, we entered Count Morano’s bedroom. He lay on his bed with an arm thrown over his eyes. He was lean, with corded muscles along his arms.
“What an exhausting trip,” Morano said, and sighed. “Fournier, remind me to never visit Monsieur Pierre de la Motte again. He’s so tiresome.”
“Of course, my Lord,” Fournier agreed. He stepped forward and helped Morano into a sitting position, where I was able to get my first proper look at him. He was very handsome, and close to my age, with a chiseled jawline and defined cheekbones. His hair was just a little long, walnut brown with a curl that fell into his eyes before he pushed it away.
As I watched silently, Fournier pried off Morano’s boots and stockings, and as the count lifted his arms, slipped off his shirt to reveal a powerful chest and defined muscles along his stomach. A patch of dark hair spread over his chest, drawing my eyes along his body appreciatively.
“And who’s this then?” Morano’s voice drew me up to his green eyes, crinkled in amusement. I bowed, hoping the count hadn’t caught me staring.
“Second Man,” Fournier said dismissively. “He was hired while we were gone.”
“Ah, yes. To replace … what was his name?”
“Hargrove.”
“Ah, yes. Hargrove. I hope he’s getting along wherever he moved off to.”
“I’m sure that is the case, my lord.”
