Winter soon turned to spring, and spring to summer. Once more, the Crawleys and their servants were headed to London to bask in the delights of the season. This time it was Lady Edith's turn. The night of her ball arrived, filling Thomas with a sense of déjà vu. There was the same elaborate food, the same dull music, and most of the same dreary guests, and again, Thomas and Martin circulated through the crowd dispensing endless glasses of sparkling champagne. Although it was Edith's night, most of the men continued to flock around her older sister, including the Duke of Crowborough. Lady Mary was obviously taken with the Duke, or at least, taken with the idea of becoming a duchess. Thomas wondered if she would still be so keen if she knew what he knew about the young peer.

As the night wore on, the drinking continued, and the voices became louder. Guests lined up at the buffet table to sample the savory delicacies that Mrs. Patmore and the kitchen staff had carefully prepared. His tray now full of empty glasses, Thomas was about to head downstairs when he heard a man's voice beside him. "I wonder if you could help me. I seemed to have spilled something on my jacket."

Thomas turned to see the Duke smiling slyly at him. "I could ask Lord Grantham's valet to take a look at it, Your Grace. I'm sure he would know what to do."

"I wouldn't want to be a nuisance. Perhaps we could find a bathroom and take care of it together."

The footman looked nervously about the room. Mr. Carson was still positioned by the door, and Martin was on the other side of the ballroom. This was madness, but he couldn't see any way out. He nodded slightly as he led the Duke to a seldom used bathroom far away from the crowd. "I'll get a cloth."

"Never mind that." The other man pulled him into the bathroom, locking the door behind them. "What's your name?"

"It's Thomas, Your Grace."

"Well, Thomas, do you have any idea how incredibly beautiful you are? I couldn't take my eyes off you all evening." He ran one finger down the footman's cheek, stopping at the full upper lip. He then cupped his face in both hands and kissed him tenderly on the mouth. Thomas didn't respond, not believing what was happening.

The Duke's hand slid lower, gently rubbing the front of Thomas' trousers until he let out an involuntary moan. The aristocrat then dropped to his knees and proceeded to take the footman in his mouth, watching the handsome face blissfully respond to his movements. Thomas reached backward clutching the sink and gave in to the exquisite pleasure of the Duke's attentions. Suddenly, with a stifled cry, it was over. Almost immediately, he began to stammer out an embarrassed apology as he hurriedly buttoned his trousers.

The Duke stared intently into his eyes, a strange smile playing on his lips. "I've taken a suite at the Ritz. Will you come to see me there, Thomas?"

The servant felt as if he'd stepped through the looking glass. "I'm not sure I could get away."

"You must try."

Thomas merely nodded. He opened the bathroom door slightly to make sure there was no one about before exiting, leaving the peer to follow on his own. Upon returning to the ballroom, Mr. Carson descended on him immediately. "And where have you been hiding?" he demanded angrily.

The Duke had reappeared and quickly intervened. "I'm afraid he was with me. I seemed to have soiled my jacket, and he was helping me with it."

"Your Grace!" Mr. Carson became flustered. "Can I fetch a valet to assist you?"

"No, as I said, this man here helped me."

Thomas couldn't help adding, "It was my pleasure, Your Grace," before walking away. The butler watched him go, a puzzled expression on his face.

A few days later at breakfast, Mr. Carson announced that the Duke would be escorting the entire Crawley family to a cricket match at Lord's that afternoon. Afterward, he would be returning with them for dinner. The servants speculated that an engagement between the nobleman and Lady Mary would soon be announced. Why else was he spending so much time with the family? Thomas had his own idea.

The Crawleys and their esteemed guest returned to the house early that evening in time to change for dinner. The Duke hadn't brought his valet with him as he would not be staying the night. Mr. Carson planned to see to His Grace himself but was surprised when the aristocrat suggested the helpful footman from the ball. What was the world coming to when a duke was being dressed by a second footman? Thomas hurried up to the room where the peer was already waiting, knocking discreetly on the door before entering. The Duke's face lit up when he saw him. "Thomas! Why haven't you come to see me?"

"I haven't had the chance, Your Grace."

"Well, I happen to know the family is going out tomorrow night, so you won't be needed here."

"I'm not sure Mr. Carson will let me go. He keeps a pretty close eye on me."

"Let me take care of that, and now, I'd really better get dressed."

At dinner that night, Lady Mary was seated next to the Duke, smiling and flirting shamelessly while Lady Edith sulked at the other end of the table. As Thomas leaned in to serve the peer, a hand brushed his knee under the table. He felt as if he were appearing onstage in a farce. The Duke then turned to Lady Grantham. "Your servants must be excited to be in London. There's so much for them to see and do here."

"I'm afraid we've kept them rather busy preparing for the ball." She looked up at the butler who was pouring wine for Lord Grantham. "Carson, the Duke is right. We must let the servants have some time off while they're here. They've worked very hard, and they deserve a little fun."

Mr. Carson sighed. "As you wish, Your Ladyship."

The next morning, Thomas received a letter from the Duke in the early post. It contained instructions on what to do when he arrived at the hotel that evening. It was simply signed P. He smiled slightly and looked up to find both Anna and Miss O'Brien studying him curiously. After breakfast was over, he approached the harried butler. "Mr. Carson, I was wondering if I might be allowed to go out this evening, as the family will be dining elsewhere. An old friend, uh—Phil, wrote and asked me to join him for dinner."

The butler was about to refuse, but he remembered Her Ladyship's request from the night before. "Oh, I suppose so, but be back by ten. And don't be late," he added. Miss O'Brien listened unseen around the corner.

That evening, Thomas entered the Ritz wearing his black suit and approached the front desk. "I'm here to see the Duke of Crowborough on a matter of business. He's expecting me."

The desk clerk gave him a look of mild distaste. "The Duke is expecting you?"

"Yes, if you'll just ring his room. The name is Carson." Thomas thoroughly enjoyed the Duke's jab at the butler. The desk clerk reluctantly made the call. Thomas watched his expression change as the aristocrat demanded that he be shown up immediately.

Upon entering the suite, the Duke was pleased to see him again. "Did you have any trouble getting away?"

Thomas flashed him a broad smile. "I told Mr. Carson I was having dinner with my old friend, Phil."

The other man laughed heartily at that. "I thought we'd dine here in the room." He handed Thomas a menu. "Order anything you like." Thomas studied the menu carefully, finally settling on the only thing he could pronounce. The Duke called in their order, and soon a cart was wheeled in carrying their dinner with a bottle of expensive champagne resting in an ice bucket below. The Duke removed the silver cloche covering his plate as Thomas poured the champagne. When they finished eating, Barrow pushed the cart out into the hall, so the two wouldn't be disturbed.

The Duke took Thomas' hand and gently led him into the bedroom. He then proceeded to undress the footman slowly, delighting in the contrast of the soft, dark chest hair over the creamy, white skin. "Thomas Barrow, you are the most beautiful man I have ever set eyes on." Thomas kissed him tenderly and then with more urgency as the Duke hastily removed his own clothes. They slipped between the satiny sheets and found pleasure in each other's bodies for the next hour. Afterward, the men remained in bed, Thomas smoking a cigarette. He began to chuckle softly. "What's so funny?" the Duke inquired.

"I was just imagining the look on Lady Mary's face if she could see us now." He found the idea oddly gratifying. "I think she plans on becoming a duchess."

The Duke looked troubled. "Yes, I know. She's a charming woman, and I do have to marry and produce an heir, but I need a wealthy wife."

"And Lady Mary isn't wealthy?" Thomas sounded incredulous.

"When Lord Grantham dies, everything goes to his cousin. Lady Mary's dowry when she marries might be generous, but it's not enough to keep me afloat."

"Then you're—"

"I'm broke, Thomas, or soon will be anyway. The money is nearly gone." The footman left soon after, recalling Mr. Carson's order to be in by ten. He and the Duke were able to meet several times in the following weeks before the family's return to Yorkshire. The London season had proven to be a highly enjoyable interlude.