Kasey Michaels - The Butler Did It by Kasey Michaels

Author:Kasey Michaels
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-02-09T20:05:07.763000+00:00

Mayfair Madness

It is sweet to let the mind unbend on occasion.

—Horace

"I'M MIGHTLY SURPRISED MISS Clifford, if I might be so bold as to say so, that your guardian allowed us this excursion," Jarrett Rolin said as he expertly tooled his pair so that the curricle was neatly blended into the line of equipages making the round of Rotten Row in Hyde Park.

Emma simply smiled, then went back to examining her surroundings. She kept quiet, because she longed to agree with Mr. Rolin, just as she longed to inquire as to why the marquis had taken the man in such dislike.

But, as she had passed beyond her initial urge to flee London and never return, she had also been reassured by the note Claramae had passed to her along with her morning chocolate: Miss Clifford. I fear I have taken a nasty knock to the head by some unknown hand, and cannot now recall anything that transpired as of early last evening. If I might request an interview with you this evening in my private study, at eight of the clock, perhaps we can, with luck, reconstruct those events, putting them in their proper order. Your servant, Westham.

What that note meant, she'd been sure, was that the marquis was willing to lie if pressed for details of whatever it wa&that had transpired between the two of them last night, and thought it best that they got those lies straight. It seemed a sane and workable solution, and if his note both pleased and saddened her, she wouldn't think about that at all.

"You know, Miss Clifford," Rolin said after a few moments spent wondering if the chit had somehow bitten off her tongue since their fairly witty repartee of the previous evening, "I have been longing for this moment all day. Indeed, the clock refused to move at times, so eager was I to speak with you again."

There. Perfect. That ought to get her talking.

"Ah, Mr. Rolin," Emma said, turning to look at him. "That statement puts me much in mind of a dancing bear. You wish me to perform for you?" Her smile softened her words, but she already had deduced that this was a man who said what he thought, and thought very much about what he said.

Rolin grinned at her, then bit back a curse as some cow-handed creature attempted to cut his ridiculously oversize high-perch phaeton in front of him in line, employing a generous use of the whip to direct his horseflesh. "Ignorant puppy," he said, turning back to Emma. "Not you, Miss Clifford. That idiot in front of us. If he had succeeded in scraping the wheels of my curricle I should have had to desert you to beat him soundly about the head and shoulders."

"Would you? I mean, would you really do something like that?" Emma asked, watching as the youth's showy and unruly team, undoubtedly weary of the sawing on their reins as well as the constant use of the whip, got the bits between their teeth, and the phaeton took off across the grass.

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