Page 28 of The Butler's Forbidden Fancy
The biggest.
He was his own worst enemy on this matter. And to resolve that, he had to change the way he thought about society. For truly, he might espouse a liberal view of equality, but had he imbibed it as his own personal approach to daily life?
Riverdale’s taunts about his view of the war and tyrants rose to mind.
He took a mug of hot tea from Cook and pretended to supervise the maids laying out of breakfast pots and pans.
The war had been his field whereon he had learned the value of equality among men. Among women too. For many women had worked for him, braving the dangers of capture by French agents.
He hadn’t liked killing men. Such a waste of humanity to murder and maim blindly. How soldiers did iten massegave him too many opportunities to question the reason of those who sat in their palaces and declared war on others. Irrational too. But he’d been drawn to his country’s service out of a belief in the rights of every man and woman to rule their own destiny. His distaste for tyrants like French Bourbons, Russian tzars and British traders who bought and sold black Africans had led him to the fight. He’d decided to oppose Napoleon because, despite his Code of laws and his boasts ofégalité, Simms despised the little general for his autocracy. It seemed in some ways the lesser of two evils to fight for a British victory against Napoleon. But he’d done it, using his own skills at order and mathematics. Learning maths from his tutors and a sense of discipline from his sweet mother (more than his fire-and-brimstone moralist father), Simms had joined the Army early in the Spanish campaigns to defeat the rascal Bonaparte. But with his talent for subterfuge, he’d found himself taken off the front lines. They’d deemed him most useful with his good French and his wiliness. They placed him deep into enemy territory running secrets and a team of agents. He’d learned that no matter rank or wealth or past proclivities, men and women would fight for a cause they hoped would give them freedom from greedy, grasping authoritarians.
He’d valued his men and women. Encouraged them to keep the flame of freedom alive.
So how could he possibly not embrace it now that he had the chance to live the very freedom he’d fought for?
“Mister Simms!” A footman ran toward him. “A gentleman is at the front door. The Customs Inspector!”
“On Christmas morning?” Most disturbing. “What’s the matter?”
“He would not say, sir.”
Simms put down his tea and made for the front door.
Chapter 9
The chaos out by the stables had Eliza rising from her tub, clutching a towel to her naked body and running to her windows.
“What can be the matter?” she asked her maid. The two of them watched as dozens scurried along the path toward the stables. “Everyone seems frantic.”
With ten or more male guests in the lead—including the three beaux of the three Craymore sisters—many others ran out in their nightclothes, hair undone, slippers on. Even their hostess, the Countess of Marsden, emerged with an older gentlemen right behind her.
Eliza squinted at the man. He was…familiar. She pulled back, grinning. It was the Duke of Harlow, who had lost his wife last year. But below along the pebbled path to the stables, he strode along, gun in hand. Whatever was the issue, it was dire.
Even Octo ran toward the crowd.
Then the oldest Craymore girl, Belinda appeared from inside the stables. She pointed a pistol at one of the guests, an older man, whose name Eliza could not recall.
“Dear me,” she said. “Quickly, Clara, I must dress and go down.”
But by the time, she sailed down the main stairs, guests gathered in the hall and muttered about the goings-on. Eliza made no sense of their bits of conversation.
Lady Bridgewater sidled up her. “An abduction! How intriguing! What a party, wouldn’t you say?”
“My lady, what do you say?”
“Miss Belinda Craymore was abducted by that scoundrel.”
“Which?”
The elderly lady pointed a shaking finger toward the main salon where closed doors indicated some important discussion was occurring. “Don’t know. Can’t remember.” She giggled. “Doesn’t matter, does it, Eliza, dear? Some ass is about to get his comeuppance. Imagine trying to take a young lady from this party. Absurd. He must’ve been drinking. Fool. No wonder…” And on she raved about the slyness of men who think it possible to outwit a house full of proper witnesses.
Then Octo pulled open the main salon doors and closed them behind him.
He stood before the guests gathered and with an authority that had always marked him as extraordinary, he announced they could all please adjourn to their rooms. “We have peace, I am happy to tell you. The Customs man from the port of Brighton is arresting two men responsible for smuggling goods into the port. I do not have many details. Those will be forthcoming. But do please know that Miss Belinda Craymore is safe, unharmed and ready to enjoy the rest of this party. I extend to you the good wishes of Lady Marsden who invites you to our Christmas breakfast shortly to be served in the main dining room. The carriages will line up at half nine to depart for morning services at church in town.”
He extended a hand toward the stairs. “Please do continue with your morning routines. We will see you at breakfast.”
She caught his eye.
