Chapter Twenty-Six
~April 28~
“I don’t understand the meaning of this, Mr. Douglass, and I don’t like it,” said Holton the butler, tossing a note onto the table next to Jamie who was finishing up his breakfast.
It was his morning off, but for once he had nothing planned. He had no painting to work on, no excursions or chores outside of the house that needed to be done. He was actually thinking of relaxing with a book in his room for change.
“I beg your pardon, sir?” Jamie asked.
“Receiving personal missives,” the butler said, raising his eyebrows at the note as if it were something evil.
“At least it doesn’t smell feminine, or does it?” Harold, another of the footmen sniggered from across the table. He grabbed the note before Jamie could do so and gave it a sniff. “No. Just an ordin
