Page 88 of One Day for a Valet

“I helped too. Where’s my hearty embrace?” Oliver complained.

A buoyant laugh bubbled up from Sofia. She redirected her affection to Violet first, then to Oliver, who picked her up and swung her in a circle.

“Be easy with my betrothed.” Christopher peeled Oliver’s bear hug grip from around Sofia, then embraced Oliver himself.

Violet bounced excitedly on her toes. “It’s furnished from the estate, but I have stacks of catalogues for you both to look through so you can decorate it as you’d like.” She grinned impishly. “We did order a rather impressive bed, which arrived only just this afternoon. And there is a massive mahogany table waiting to be retrieved from the carpenter.”

“I thought that if Sofia is feeling up to it,” Oliver interjected, “we might move her belongings today so she has time to get settled in before the wedding. Are you feeling well enough sister … to settle into your new home?”

Sofia looked up at Christopher with a glint of mischief that mirrored her brother’s. “I am feeling very well indeed.”

Moving Sofia’s few belongings took no more than two hours, including time to tour and explore the house. When it was done, they relaxed over tea in Sofia’s new sitting room and played a few games of whist while Gabriel, Violet, and Oliver discussed their plans to travel to Gabriel’s London townhouse after the wedding. There, they would present evidence and hereditary documentation to a veritable army of solicitors and begin the ungainly pile of paperwork required for the legal proceedings to begin.

Oliver would visit Gabriel’s tailor and be dressed in accordance with his new station, and Gabriel planned to write a public announcement for the papers. It would, no doubt, be the catalyst for unprecedented upheaval amongst the upper class. Sofia and Christopher would remain at the estate while Jeremy acted as valet to Gabriel. Oliver, for his part, stubbornly insisted that he could bloody well put on his own trousers and did not require a man to tell him which leg went into which hole.

Across from Christopher, Zach perched awkwardly beside his mother on the settee, sketchbook in hand, looking as though he would rather be anywhere else having any other conversation.

Violet buffed her palm up and down Zach’s arm. “You don’t have to come to London, sweetheart. I would miss you terribly, of course, but it should only be a fortnight and⁠—”

Zach covered her hand with his, halting the anxious movement.

Christopher watched Zach’s eyes and saw the effort it took to drag his gaze up to claim his mother's. “No, I can do this. I won’t leave the townhouse, but if you could bring the tailor to me … My trousers are all too short and Gabriel uses a man in town. I should as well. Just one tailor. No assistants.” He repeated his words slowly, as if to feel the shape of each one. “It won’t be too much to manage one tailor and a handful of servants I don’t know.” He glanced up at Gabriel, who had long since stopped paying attention to his cards. His expression radiated pride.

Zach shifted on the settee, removing his hand from his mother’s arm and planting his elbows on his knees. “How many servants again?

“Twenty-two. Nineteen that you have not met,” Gabriel replied, dropping his cards and crossing to sit in the chair adjacent to Zach.

Drawing in a long audible breath, Zach nodded. “I can exclude the gardeners, coachmen, and scullery maids. I probably won’t see them at all. That would leave⁠—”

“Around eleven once you exclude those servants you already know.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Zach looked up at Gabriel. “Tell me about the tailor. Where on my person will he measure? What is he like? Mama has always purchased ready-made clothes for me.”

“Frank is his name. He doesn’t speak much and he gets the job done quickly. He will measure the length of your arms, from your shoulders to your wrist, and the breadth of your chest, abdomen, limbs, collar, and waist.”

Zachariah ran his own finger down the length of his arm as if to imagine the touch of a stranger along those same parts.

“He’ll measure from hip to ankle as well as your inseam.”

Zach sputtered, “My … in-inseam!” He shook his head. “No.”

Gabriel tapped one finger rhythmically on the arm of his chair. “Would you prefer your mama take the measurements while Frank supervises the task?”

Zach’s eyes widened.

“No, then. How about me?”

The young man considered for a long moment before nodding. “Yes. You.”

Still seated at the card table, Oliver watched with interest, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“If you think of any further questions, there’s plenty of time to ask. We won’t leave for another month. You’re certain this is what you want?” Gabriel asked.

Zach’s nod looked rather more like a “no,” but when he glanced over at Oliver, his shoulders straightened. “Yes. I can do this.”

Already, the family dynamic was shifting again, making room for its newest members. Oliver’s advice had resonated with Zach in a way that would not have been half so effective coming from Gabriel or Violet. He’d offered the guidance of a favourite uncle.

Thirty