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Fellowes. You wish to be my valet?”
    “I do, my lord.” He stood as unmoving as a statue, his hat dangling from his fingertips. He did not appear to be nervous.
    “Why?”
    Several beats passed before Fellowes answered. “I need a position. And you are known to be a very elegant gentleman, my lord. It will make my name to serve you.”
    Nathan said nothing in response to these bold, quiet words. Silence stretched, and deliberately, Nathan did not fill it. But Fellowes said nothing more. Nor did he shift around. He stood serenely, simply waiting.
    Two minutes passed thus.
    Nathan had interviewed the other eight candidates at length but he could see that this was not going to be necessary in Fellowes’ case. He sensed already that he would be able to tolerate the man’s calm, quiet presence. As for his skills as a valet, well, there was only one way to find that out.
    “I will give you a month’s trial,” Nathan said. “You will begin on Monday.”
    Fellowes started, plainly surprised. His pale eyes darted left then back to centre. “What are—that is to say, could you tell me what the terms of employment are, my lord?”
    Nathan shrugged, uninterested. “Taylor will see to that. See him on your way out, there’s a good chap.” He turned, ready to go back to the leather chair behind his desk.
    “Ah—my lord?”
    Nathan turned back again, his eyebrows drawing together with displeasure. He had dismissed the man. What on earth could he have to say? Hadn’t he been given the position already?
    “Yes?”
    Fellowes bit his lip. When he spoke, his words emerged in a rush. “I—er—wanted to request…certain terms.”
    “Terms?”
    Fellowes coughed and his cheeks bloomed with scarlet. Yet he kept going. “I had hoped I could have my own room, my lord. And—” He broke off at the sight of Nathan’s raised eyebrows and incredulous expression.
    “ And? ”
    “And a half day off a week,” he blurted.
    Having made these demands, Fellowes fell silent again. He glanced down at his feet, his face still flushed. Nathan regarded him for a few moments. He had no interest in the particulars of the servants’ employment, which he left to Taylor, but Fellowes’ requests seemed reasonable enough and he respected the young man for speaking up for himself.
    “All right,” he said with a shrug. He reached for the bell.
    “Th-thank you, my lord,” Fellowes stammered.
    Nathan gestured carelessly at a chair. “Sit.”
    Fellowes obediently seated himself where Nathan had indicated. He sat prissily, with his knees together, his hat resting on his lap. When he noticed Nathan looking at him, he inched his legs slowly apart. Nathan watched him, saying nothing while they waited for Taylor to return. Really, he was a pup. What was he thinking, giving a youth this position? Even on a trial basis.
    When Taylor arrived, he ignored Fellowes and looked at Nathan enquiringly. “My lord?”
    “Ah, Taylor. Mr. Fellowes will be starting as my valet on Monday. He is to have his own room. And every—Sunday?—” he glanced at the lad, who nodded quickly, “—every Sunday afternoon off. All understood?”
    Taylor’s eyes widened fractionally but beyond that he expressed no surprise, merely inclined his head.
    “Taylor will discuss your wages with you, Fellowes,” Nathan said, glancing at the young man, who was now rising to his feet. “No doubt he will explain where and when you should present yourself on Monday. I will bid you good day.”
    “Thank you, my lord. Good day.” Fellowes bowed again, a little stiffly.
    Once the doors of the library had closed again, Nathan leaned back in his chair. Was he mad? Certainly he was impulsive. But he had had a good feeling from the young man and had been impressed by his air of quiet confidence.
    Now George Fellowes had a month to prove himself worthy.
     
    When Georgy stumbled out of Harland’s house, she was still reeling. She couldn’t believe he’d hired her so quickly. Just