“You may be assured I would never violate His Grace’s trust,” the butler murmured. He paused. “Or yours.”

In other words, he’d not reveal to anyone her presence here, or her relationship with Val. That allegiance spoke volumes of his bond with the duke and his respect for him.

“You have been with him long, then?” she asked, fiddling with the cup on her lap, shameful in her quest to learn more about this man whom she’d soon part ways with.

“I worked for the late Duchess of Aragon’s family and joined the young lady when she wed His Grace. And your assessment of him is correct. There is no fairer, more honorable man than he.”

Yes, that was precisely what Val was. It was why he’d tolerated her presence these past days, despite his longing for privacy. And it was why he’d come to save her from those fiends. “What was he like?” she asked softly. “Before.”

“Before Her Grace passed?”

She nodded, even as her chest constricted with an unfair jealousy at the mention of the woman who’d been tied to Val, a woman whom he’d so deeply loved that her hold upon him remained just as strong in death. “Yes.”

Jenkins smiled sadly. “A more charming man there was not. He was always ready with a smile and jest, sneaking into the kitchens to join the staff along with his brother.”

The man he spoke of was so different from the one she knew, and she tried desperately to imagine Val, who’d come to mean so very much to her, as the carefree, lighthearted fellow the servant now spoke of.

“He must have loved her greatly.”

“Desperately. Their families were dear friends, and he’d known her forever. They were friendly as children, but that relationship became romantic.”

In other words, he’d loved her forever.

Whereas Myrtle . . . Myrtle was a mere stranger to him. Someone he’d known but a handful of days, and because of his love for his wife, it would never be more with her.

Sadness glimmered in the butler’s eyes, eyes that sparkled with a glassy sheen of tears. “When Her Grace perished, it was as though His Grace died, too. The joy that had always existed within him . . . It was like a light that was snuffed out. He was changed. Curt. Depressed. It was as though a stranger overtook the form of a man who’d been loved by all. Most of the servants quit after that transformation.”

“But you did not,” she murmured, admiration and appreciation for the old butler stirring in her breast.