The Marquess' Daring Wager (The Duke's Pact Book 2) by Kate Archer

Author:Kate Archer [Archer, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Romance, Historical, Fiction
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2020-09-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

“I’ve had another letter,” Richard said to his valet.

They had settled into rooms at the Queen Anne and ordered enough food for ten men. Or, in the alternative, two men, and one boy who appeared to have hollow legs to store it all in. Richard was not inclined to order separate dinners, one for himself and one for his servants, as when there was nobody else about, he and Kingston had always lived very casually. Especially since the war. As they were all to be camped at a hotel for a few days, formality seemed even less necessary. He had heard descriptions of the boy’s insatiable appetite from his appalled valet and ordered accordingly.

The four trays overloaded with food had methodically disappeared under Charlie’s careful attention. The lad had worked his way through heaps of boiled potatoes, stacks of mutton chops, a basket of rolls, a bowl of butter, and half a Savoy cake as Kingston looked on in disgust.

“My mother writes that she is delayed and will be here by evening on the morrow,” Richard said. “As is her nature, she does not bother to explain the delay or apologize for any inconvenience. Dash it, I could have stayed on at Dartsfell Hall and delayed my journey for another day.”

Charlie leaned against a bedpost, though Kingston had scolded him a dozen times for forever leaning on things like an urchin holding up a lamp pole. “That’s more good luck than not,” he said. “I been poking around the place, speakin’ to various fellas to get the what’s what round here.”

“I told you that you are not to make yourself a nuisance in this establishment,” Kingston said. “You’re likely to get thrown out on your ear and I won’t help you if you do.”

“No worries, pal,” Charlie said cheerfully. “Ain’t nobody throwing me out by my ear. They’re growin’ fond of me, as people generally do.”

“Pal? Pal!” Kingston shouted, his face growing an alarming shade of red. “I am not your pal. That term is banned immediately and forever!”

Charlie shrugged. The list of sobriquets that had been banned immediately and forever had so far included: mate, chap, brother, old sot, my good fella, soldier, pet, cub, gent, and even velote, which was, apparently, “old man” in Portuguese.

Richard laughed and said, “Come now, Kingston. We are at loose ends at the moment. We might as well hear the what’s what of the place.”

“It’s like this, my lord,” Charlie said in a confidential tone. “Seeing as how you are in a pickle with that boat race, I made inquiries. Seems there’s a lake not so very far from here and a boat that may be had for three shillings an hour. You catch the drift?”

At inquiring if his master “caught the drift,” Charlie was promptly smacked on the head by the valet. The boy was entirely unmoved, as this had become such a regular occurrence that it was no more alarming than if Kingston had patted him on the shoulder.

“I might practice,” Richard said with enthusiasm.

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