Page 15 of One Day for a Valet

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“Shall I come back in half an hour?” Christopher asked through the still-closed door.

“An hour,” Gabriel replied, a measure of ducal crispness returning to his voice. Feminine murmuring preceded a strangled groan.

“An hour and a half,” Gabriel amended.

Ninety minutes should be just enough time to return the pear trees to the glasshouse.

Stripping off his topcoat, Christopher leaned against the stone garden wall to catch his breath while Jeremy looked on with undisguised vexation.

Christopher let his head tip back, heaving a sigh. “Oh for Christ’s sake, take off your coat or it’ll be ruined with sweat stains anyway. No one who sees you will care.”

“Easy for you to say, bruv. His Grace won’t fire his best mate for stripping half his clothes off in the back garden.”

“Half my clothes? It's a topcoat! I’m hardly running around in my drawers.”

“No one on this estate wishes to hear about your unmentionables, Mr Keene,” said a haughty aristocratic voice from behind him.

Startling, Christopher spun about, then spotted the dowager duchess looming on the balcony above. “Good God, she’s like a malevolent poltergeist appearing out of nowhere. Did you know she was there?” Christopher whispered.

“I am a malevolent poltergeist with excellent hearing, Mr Keene. What, precisely, are you doing with that tree?”

“Just taking it for a little stroll, Your Grace.”

Jeremy snorted convulsively then coughed.

“It’s a fruit tree, not a pug dog, young man. Shouldn’t you be attending to my son? Or have you abandoned all pretence of doing your job in favour of pointless shenanigans?” One finely sculpted silver brow lifted, her long fingers wrapping tightly around the banister.

“I believe the duchess is attending to him this morning, Your Grace.” Try as he might, Christopher had never been able to resist goading the woman. But if his comment had discomfited her in the slightest, she didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing it.

“Very well. Please inform the duke that I am returning to the dower house. I will await the duchess’s arrival after she breaks her fast.”

Without a backwards glance, she disappeared through the door and out of sight.

“That woman scares the shit out o’ me, and I’m not ashamed to say it,” Jeremy said under his breath, still watching the empty space where the dowager had been.

Christopher gave his shoulder a shove. “Come on, Jeremy. We’re nearly there. Let’s get this finished.”

“Eager to check in on a certain governess? I saw her with the children in the rose garden this morning. What’s the hurry? Doesn’t seem like she likes you much anyway.”

“I’m an acquired taste. Are you going to help me move this thing or do you plan to continue standing around meddling in my affairs?”

“The meddling option, of course.”

Christopher stomped back to the tree and made to lift his end. Jeremy, however, leaned indolently against the wall.

“You are a jackass. And for the record, this will be the last time I invite you to assist me in relocating a massive pear tree.”

“Yes, because the opportunity to partake in this little ‘bonding ritual’ is likely to crop up again often.” One glance at Christopher's slight smile and Jeremy barked out a laugh. “Oh good God, it is, isn’t it? You're a persistent bastard. Not that I don’t get the appeal. Even a stone and a half too lean, she’s something. Rather like a wild animal with irresistibly soft fur.” Jeremy got a faraway look in his eye that Christopher didn’t appreciate in the slightest. “You know she might gut you if you try to touch, but you can’t help wondering if the threat of having your entrails splayed out might be worth just a little stroke.”

Christopher reared up to his full height, which was woefully unimpressive beside Jeremy’s strapping build. “Her fur is not for you.”

Waving off his posturing, Jeremy walked back towards the pear tree. “Easy, old man. I wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle. You’re going to need all your parts in working order to have any hope of winning that woman’s affection.”

At the appointed time, Christopher stood once again before the imposing door of the ducal suite.

“Come in, Keene. Violet’s gone,” Gabriel called. “Off to find my mother, if you can believe it. She’s attempting to narrow the chasm between the dowager and me by hosting a ball.”