Tonight or Never by Dara Joy

Author:Dara Joy [Joy, Dara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, General
ISBN: 9780505523389
Google: BpXrPAAACAAJ
Amazon: B006IYFKXO
Publisher: Dorchester Publishing Company, Incorporated
Published: 1999-07-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Surrounded by Cyns

A few days later, John happened to be crossing through the foyer when a great pounding commenced at the front door of the house. Eyebrow raised, he stood in the center of the entry, wondering what new trouble was about to fall on his doorstep. One thing could be said for Chacun à Son Goût—it was never dull.

The butler hastily walked to the door, apologizing to Lord Sexton the whole way, as if the noise on the doorstep were somehow his fault. He opened the door to seven shouting Frenchman, all speaking at once.

And a bedraggled bunch they were too.

The poor butler put his hands up to try to bring some order to the fracas, but the French were having none of it. Each one tried to talk over the other in an effort to get his opinion heard.

John calmly stepped forward. "Having a bit of a problem, Calloway?"

The staid butler cleared his throat. "Aye, my lord. Can't make heads or tails of what they're saying."

"Allow me." John faced the motley group, surprised to recognize the Cyndreac brothers on his doorstep.

"In English, lads." He grinned at them, oddly glad to see they still had their heads. For all their rowdiness, they were an engaging bunch.

"Lord Sexton," one of them spoke up in perfect, unaccented English above the yammering of the others. "We are seeking Countess de Fonbeaulard and her granddaughter—if this servant will only let us by!"

"And what is your business with them?"

"Do not be foolish! We seek asylum, of course! We have just escaped from the Place de Greve! We are great friends with the Fonbeaulards; now if you would let us pass…" He was younger and slightly shorter than John but still managed to look down his aristocratic French nose at the viscount. "We have had an ordeal—as you can see."

They did appear some the worse for wear. They were bedraggled, filthy, and probably starving as well. Despite their state, they were still remarkably elegant.

Apparently even the rigors of dungeon life weren't enough to dampen their joie de vivre.

He was going to let them in, of course. But he needed to make one thing clear to these wild pups before he did.

Leaning insolently against the door frame, he blocked the one who had spoken to him from sweeping past. "Let's get one thing clear between us, Count Cyndreac."

Seven count faces watched him haughtily.

"I am the master of this estate; it is my approval you need seek—for everything."

"You?" One of them sneered. "You are but a fixture, from what I hear!" He tried to elbow past John, but the viscount held his ground.

"Hmm. Sorry, lads, but this fixture is wed to the mistress of the estate, which means…" He let the idea sink in.

All fourteen of the golden eyes widened at once. Message delivered.

It was rather comical, the speed with which they began to ingratiate themselves to him.

Two of them slapped his back; one winked at him; another nodded approvingly; while still another declared him the finest choice for the countess.

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