Asher nodded slowly. “I do. He’s…he’s related to a friend of mine. A lady who is in some trouble.”
“A lady,” Hendrix cooed. “Well, there you are. A fine lady, too, I’d wager. You’d catch a fine one now, looking like a gentleman.”
“Looking like one?” Asher said with a laugh. “It often feels like a mask, I fear. But yes, she is a very fine lady.”
Hendrix swigged a drink of his ale. “I pity her if she’s affiliated in any way with Fitzgilbert. He’s a bastard of the highest order.”
Asher arched a brow. “I’ve heard stories, yes.”
“Not the half of it, I’m sure. I got hired by the man three years ago and it’s the worst mistake I ever made, taking the job. He mistreats everyone on his staff from the lowest to the high. They all hate him. I wouldn’t be surprised if the kitchen staff poisons him some day.”
Asher frowned as he thought of Celia and Rosalinde and the abject terror that filled their faces when they spoke of their grandfather. That he would keep them from their father, it made him so very angry and defensive in ways he didn’t really understand. They were the wives of his childhood friends, nothing more, and yet he felt…protectiveof them somehow.
“If you’ve been there so long, you must have known his granddaughters.”
Hendrix’s demeanor changed in an instant. He smiled and straightened up. “Aye, I did. Lovely young women, worth more than that man gave them. They both married well. Very well. Fitzgilbert turns over his staff quickly, but those of us left who knew them only wish them the best.”
This was all very interesting, but it was time to pursue more pressing issues with Hendrix. He just had to tread carefully here.
“Have you noticed anything…odd about the man lately. In the past week or so?” he asked.
Hendrix sighed and met Asher’s eyes evenly. “Is this news within the servant network or am I speaking to a gentleman who might let word of my insubordination get back to Fitzgilbert?”
Asher caught his breath. That Hendrix would even ask such a thing! But then again…he didn’t really belong anymore. Not anywhere, it seemed.
“You are talking to your friend,” he said. “And I assure you that anything you tell me will stay anonymous. And if you’re looking for an out, I’m connected enough now that I might be able to find you a position in a different house. One that wouldn’t keep you from a wife or a family when you and your lady are ready.”
Hendrix stared at him. “You would help me?”
“Footmen always stick together,” Asher reminded him. “Even former footmen.”
Hendrix smiled, a faint expression filled with memory. Then he nodded. “All right. For an old friend, I’ll talk. In the past week, Fitzgilberthasbeen acting…odd. Even for him. He’s nervous and angry and agitated more than usual. And there are these letters that come in and out at all hours of the day and night. And just between you, me and the wall there…” Hendrix leaned forward and so did Asher. “There’s money being exchanged.”
“How do you know?” Asher asked, even though he already knew about the money.
“Hard to hide a big wad of it bound up in a missive, especially when you’re too drunk to fold it properly.” Hendrix lifted both his eyebrows and shot Asher a telling look.
Asher nodded. “Would it be…difficult for you to let me know the next time he sends one of these letters, especially ones with blunt, out?”
Hendrix considered it a moment. “If you really think you could find me a position in a better household, I’d take the risk.”
Asher thought of all the men he had worked for in the past, including the ones he was currently spending time with. “I have no doubt I could help,” he promised.
“Then if you give me your address, I’ll send you something straight away. He always makes a big fuss about privacy when these messages come, so the moment he starts locking doors and screeching at any maid that gets too close, I’ll let you know.”
Asher shook his hand. “Thank you, Hendrix. Your help means a great deal.”
Hendrix grinned. “At your service, guv,” he said with a laugh. Then he leaned forward again. “But you know, Asher, if you want to know more about Fitzgilbert, you really ought to ask your father.”
Asher stared at him. “My father? Why would I ask my father?”
“Don’t you know?” Hendrix asked. “He worked for Fitzgilbert.”
Asher’s lips parted. “My father worked for Gregory Fitzgilbert?”
Hendrix nodded. “That’s what the servant ledgers the old man keeps say. About twenty-five years ago or so.”
Asher blinked. Twenty-five years ago his father had worked for a man who didn’t allow servants with children. Asher had been parted from him for years thanks to that man. Even when his father left Fitzgilbert’s employ, there had been something separating them.
