Adrian Montague groaned as he was shaken awake by a gentle hand.
“It’s half past five,” a sleepy voice murmured, trailing off into a yawn.
Adrian sat up. “Christ.” He raked his hands through his hair before glancing at Benjamin, one of the other footmen employed at Hartland Abbey. Their shared room had a pair of tiny wood-framed beds, one washstand, and a chest of drawers they split between them. Life in service meant everything was shared, right down to the livery clothes on his back.
He had been a footman at Hartland for ten years. Now nine and twenty, he was coming into the age where men like him would either move on or advance into an underbutler position. But he doubted that Hartland’s butler, Mr. Reeves, would consider him for the position. Not given his family history.
It was on
