Monty didn’t sigh, but the thought was there. “Surely not the lavender silk again, Jensen?” He sounded like a whiny child.
When he’d gone into hiding in plain sight of every member of society, he’d taken household staff with him he’d trusted. One was his valet, Jensen.
Small, efficient, he had the energy of ten men. He, like the Harvey family, who were also in his employ, knew the game he played and kept his secrets.
“You wore the rose two nights ago. I’m quite sure someone would notice if you did not wear lavender this evening, as it is your favorite color,” Jensen said, smiling.
“Very amusing.” Monty frowned. “No heels. Just black shoes.”
His valet stared at him.
“No one will notice my footwear,” Monty said, “and those things pinch.”
“But mincing is expected of you.”
“And yet, tonight I will wear the black shoes. They have large gold buckles. Surely that will suffice?”
Jensen knew that tone and did not continue the debate, instead retrieving the shoes.
“I shall put powder on your bruised chin and finish your hair,” Jensen said.
“It is styled already.” Monty sounded testy, something he never was.
Perhaps he should stay home this evening if this was how he was feeling? Stay home and read every book he had on Satan and devil worshippers again. He’d purchased them after what he’d discovered that night his parents were murdered. That carving he’d attempted, and failed to forget.
“I need no powder, thank you, Jensen,” he said slowly. “I’ll say I fell down the stairs. After all, clumsiness is expected of me, hence my name.”
“As you wish,” his valet said in a tone that implied it wasn’t his wish to let his employer leave the house without heels and sporting a bruised chin.
Monty left the room without glancing in the mirror because he loathed looking at the man he became when he stepped into society. Contrary to what his peers felt about him, Monty was not vain. In fact, when he was here, he would walk about his house in bare feet, trousers, a shirt, and nothing else. When he left society, his hair would never be trimmed, and he’d be unshaved.
He could imagine all the tittering and shocked gasps if anyone saw him dressed any other way but how they thought he should. A fool in lace and satin.
Arriving at his front door, Monty found his butler, Haven. Tall, wide-shouldered, and a man who had the strength of ten. He had been with him for many years, as had Haven’s sister, Polly, who was Monty’s housekeeper, and her husband, Lenny, his driver.
“Good evening, my lord.” Haven bowed, his eyes dropping to Monty’s shoes when he rose.
“What?”
“They are not your usual evening footwear.”
“I’ve worn them before,” Monty said defensively.
“Then I must have missed that event.”
“Very likely. These are comfortable,” Monty added, looking at his feet.
His butler’s eyes then went to his head.
“What now?” Monty snapped.
“Is all well with you, my lord?”
“It is an off day, Haven.”
His butler smiled. “We all have those upon occasion, my lord.”
“Please have someone you trust travel to my estate in Wiltshire and hand this to one of the staff. He is to then return with what I requested.”
