The Other Harlow Girl by Lynn Messina

Author:Lynn Messina
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: historical romance
Publisher: Potatoworks Press
Published: 2015-11-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

The first Huntly heard of the dossiers was from Mr. Luther Townshend, who insisted upon seeing the marquess immediately, despite being told several times that he was interviewing candidates for the position of cataloging assistant—“to help him organize and classify flora from his voyage, sir”—and was not to be disturbed.

“Very well,” snapped Mr. Townshend, whose patience had been worn thin by the first five refusals, “I should like to put myself up for the position.”

Fleming, resentful of any attempt to circumvent his authority, kindly requested a résumé, an act that had the unfortunate affect of turning Townshend’s face purple.

“Devil take it, man, I’m the deputy director of Kew Gardens,” he all but screamed. “Now, tell the marquess I must see him at once.”

The butler was saved the trouble of interrupting Huntly’s interview, for as soon as Townshend had finishing making his demand, the study door opened and Huntly’s head stuck out. “What seems to be the trouble, Fleming?”

Townshend opened his mouth to reply, but the trusted retainer spoke more quickly and at a greater volume. “This gentleman—a Mr. Luther Townshend—would like to see you when you have a moment, my lord. He understands you are already engaged and is happy to wait in the drawing room with a pot of tea.”

Huntly, who knew Fleming well enough to realize that wasn’t quite true, nodded his head abruptly. “Very good. I’m almost done here, so I shall be in there directly.”

Realizing he had been outflanked, Townshend meekly followed Fleming to the drawing room, where he was offered not only a cup of perfectly brewed tea but a plate of warm scones as well. Given the oddness of the hour—after morning calls, not yet afternoon visits—he was impressed with the freshness of the pastry and comfortably finished the entire serving before the marquess came in to apologize.

“I would like to blame Fleming, for he does tend to get territorial, but in this case he was simply following my orders,” Huntly explained as he drew the doors closed behind him. “I’ve been home three weeks now and have yet to engage an assistant, which is unfortunate for everyone involved, as my study is practically consumed by trunks from my journey. Today was specifically set aside for interviews.”

Townshend, who had stood as soon as the marquess entered the room, nodded agreeably, his frayed temper considerably smoothed by the interval with the scones. “Of course, my lord. I apologize for my bellicosity. I am usually more temperate in my responses.”

Huntly nodded as if he knew this to be true, but in fact Townshend was the single most argumentative member of the British Horticultural Society. As the deputy director of the gardens, he was accustomed to ordering people around and had little patience when others did not bow to do his authority, even the equals who made up the membership of the society. He wasn’t unreasonable, of course, and inevitably apologized for his inappropriate outbursts only moments after he’d made them. For this reason, it was hardly remarkable to hear him shouting at poor Fleming in the hallway.

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