Kasey Michaels - Someone To Love by Kasey Michaels

Author:Kasey Michaels [Michaels, Kasey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-11-25T23:51:16+00:00

C hapter F ourteen

A bby didn’t come down to dinner.

Kipp had knocked on the dividing door when the second chime had gone, only to have a very harried-looking Frenchman pull the door open, then glare at him rather evilly before collecting his emotions and performing a rather elegant bow for a man holding a pair of scissors in one hand and a hank of golden hair in the other.

The hairdresser was a tall man of about forty, thin as a whip and dressed all in rather flashy blue satin, as if expecting to be called to the French court at any moment. Lace foamed at his throat, at his cuffs. A narrow brown belt stuffed with scissors, combs, slid halfway down his hips.

The man was laughable, but he didn’t know that.

“My lord,” Parfait said at last, in highly accented English. “Thees es the interruption necessary? Eet es I who am necessary, I do think.”

Kipp suddenly found himself somewhat intimidated by the hairdresser, which was above anything ridiculous, for he was a viscount, damn it, and this man was only holding a huge amount of his wife’s hair in his hand.

Still, the workings of flamboyant artistes like Parfait were a mystery to Kipp, and he’d rather keep things that way. He decided to tamp down his temper and attempt to look more concerned than outraged. He certainly knew he didn’t want to enter the room, see what the fellow was doing to his wife’s head!

“I only came to inquire if Her Ladyship is ready to go down to dinner.” Kipp pointed at the scissors, then added, “I imagine not.”

“You do the imagine correctly, my lord,” Parfait told him regally, and then closed the door again.

Leaving Kipp to realize that he hadn’t been in charge of his own household for more than a moment since Abby had first walked through the door and done whatever in blazes it was she did that had made him feel an interloper in his own home.

It was true. Abby Backworth-Maldon—no, Abby Rutland, Viscountess Willoughby—hadn’t been in residence more than five hours, and his household, the one he believed would now run more smoothly than ever before, was already topsy-turvy.

How had that happened? It wasn’t supposed to have happened.

Turned away at his wife’s bedchamber door. Dismissed by a hairdresser.

How lowering.

As Kipp walked down the hallway, he met Sallyann coming toward him, trying her best to curtsy without tipping the heavy silver tray in her hands.

Kipp lifted one of the two identical silver lids, saw what he vaguely remembered as the second course of the evening’s planned dinner. Slices of fine, rare roasted beef and a few simple accompaniments.

“And the second serving?” he asked the maid, already knowing it had to be for Monsieur Parfait. That would be just like Abby, making sure the man was properly fed—then wondered why he knew that.

“For the Mon-shur, my lord. They’re very busy, my lord,” Sallyann told him, keeping her nervous gaze on his evening slippers. Then she looked up at him, giggled.

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