I knew Mr. Blackwood was not like the other masters. I knew this on the first day, when he walked into the dining room and did not look at any of us—not the cook, not the butler, not me—as if we were furniture. Not unfriendly. Not cruel. Simply invisible.
I am Thomas Green. I am seventeen. I am the junior footman at Blackwood Manor, and my job is to carry things, open doors, and stay out of the way. I am good at staying out of the way. Mr. Blackwood is twenty-six, tall and dark and quiet. He inherited the manor six months ago, when his uncle died, and he has not smiled since. The servants talk about it. We have to. What else is there to do? But...
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