The Master’s Suite
“My thanks.” Simon turned to Violet. “Would you care for tea before our tour? Or biscuits? Or any refreshment?”
“No.” Had the world flipped on its axis? “But thank you.”
“Very well, we’ll ring then,” Simon addressed Mr. Sterling, “if we have need of anything.” With that, he dismissed the duke’s butler with a nod and then offered Violet his arm. “Shall we, Miss Faraday?”
She acquiesced without answer, silenced by such an unexpected reception. Only after they were some feet down the long foyer did she dare speak up.
“Now that, Simon, is how I expect a butler to act. You could learn a thing or two from Mr. Sterling.”
He chuckled. “Would you have preferred someone like that, then, to butler for your cousin?”
“Initially, I would have answered yes.” Violet halted to tilt her head back and examine the elaborately painted ceiling. “But upon closer acquaintance, absolutely not. I’ll take you just as you are.”
She slid a glance in his direction. Had that made him uncomfortable?
“These are original from before the fire,” he told her. “The entire ancestorial gallery was destroyed but… the duke was lucky that this particular ceiling could be restored.”
“Oh, how very tragic. When was the fire?”
“1816,” he answered. “Both the duke and the duchess died, but the servants saved their young daughters. They were only four at the time.”
“Where was the current duke?”
“Away at school, having his jollies without a care in the world while Heart Place burned to the ground.”
“He was very young then?”
“Not very. Seventeen. His father had suggested he finish out his schooling at home, with a tutor—to train him specifically to take over the dukedom when the time came. But Blackheart was enjoying himself too much at school to agree to it. There was too much fun to be had sporting around with the other chaps there.”
“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” Violet asked, feeling tentative, almost as though she was reopening some wound on Simon’s part. “I understand he also has a younger brother?”
“Yes.”
And then she realized.
Simon, too, had been orphaned and left to care for two sisters and a brother. He must feel an intrinsic connection with the Duke of Blackheart.
She clutched his arm beneath her hand. The last thing she wished to do today was unearth sad memories.
“But Blackheart rebuilt everything.”
“Yes.”
Simon showed her to the two main drawing rooms, one more classically decorated than the other but both in pristine condition and smelling of lemon oil.
“You said servants don’t really miss out. What do you mean by that?” She was a little sheepish to be so ignorant about the life he led.
“Servants live with their employers. They are privy to some of their most intimate moments.” Violet’s heart skipped a beat at the word, but she ignored it.
“My cousin trusts you implicitly,” she commented. “Some would say that a butler is more in control of a household than the master.”
“So long as he has the respect of the staff.”
“And how does one garner that?” Simon would know. She’d very nearly caught a few housemaids curtseying to him.
“It’s not all that different from managing an estate,” he said. “I imagine.”
