A Regency Invitation to the House Party of the Season by Nicola Cornick, Elizabeth Rolls, JOANNA MAITLAND Page B
Ads: Link
her red cheeks and started to wail. ‘I can’t, Mr Ufton! I can’t! They’re occupied!’
The butler strode forward and shook her impatiently by the arm. ‘Explain yourself! What are you talking about, child?’
The housemaid had started to cry. ‘I can’t take the backstairs, sir. They’re already in use. I saw the two of them together earlier and no ways am I going down there! Don’t make me!’ She broke off in a welter of tears.
Ufton looked almost apoplectic as the household discipline fell apart around him—and all in front of his employer. He gave the maid a hard stare that promised retribution, and marched towards the backstairs, throwing the door open so that it bounced on its hinges. The crash reverberated through the house and brought some of the other servants out into the hall to see what was going on.
‘Mr Ufton’s on the warpath again,’ Cassie heard one of the footmen whisper gleefully.
There was a scuffle, a feminine squeak, and then Ufton gave an exclamation of wrath and dragged a figure out through the doorway by the scruff of its neck. Cassie heard William give an exclamation.
‘Grant!’ William’s face stiffened as he saw his valet in Ufton’s iron grip. ‘What in God’s name were you doing down there?’
One of the footmen stifled a guffaw. Cecil Grant smoothed back his hair and ostentatiously adjusted his breeches. There was a very self-satisfied smirk on his face. In that moment it was clear to everyone exactly what he had been doing on the backstairs.
The maid was snivelling and Sarah Mardon had put a comforting arm about her. ‘That Mr Grant is a devil with the servants—’ the maid gulped ‘—but since he took up with her ladyship he’s been even worse! Like a ravening dog, he is.’
Anthony Lyndhurst put his cousin to one side and strode forward. His voice cracked like a whip. ‘Kindly explain yourself, Grant.’
Cecil Grant remained insolently silent. From the staircase below came another feminine shriek and voices upraised in a sudden babble of sound.
‘I do believe,’ Anthony said grimly, ‘that your latest paramour has been caught fair and square down in the kitchens, Grant. I can scarce believe such profligate behaviour with the female servants. Disgraceful —’
He broke off abruptly as Timms and Eliza appeared through the door, dragging between them the dishevelled figure of Lady Margaret Burnside. Her hair was falling down, her skirts were crumpled and, most shockingly of all, her bodice was askew and unbuttoned.
‘Mr Grant’s paramour, Major,’ Timms said expressionlessly. ‘Found in flagrante , so to speak.’
Everyone looked at Lady Margaret, who was trying vainly to force her ample bosom back into her bodice.
‘Lady Margaret!’ Sarah Mardon said in horrified tones.
‘I cannot believe it!’ Cassie said, shocked to the core. She stared in fascinated disbelief at the once-immaculate figure of her chaperon.
‘Trollop!’ Eliza had been waiting a long time to have her opinion of Lady Margaret confirmed. ‘Hugging and kissing on the backstairs like a common strumpet! Carrying on for days, they have been, but too clever to be caught out ’til now.’
Cassie looked from Lady Margaret to Cecil Grant. ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed. ‘It was Grant I saw you with in the gardens two nights ago, Lady Margaret, not—’ She glanced up at Peter and fell silent abruptly.
Anthony’s face was like thunder. He turned on the pair. ‘You are both dismissed. You will leave this house at once .’
William Lyndhurst-Flint started to protest. ‘Dash it all, old fellow, what am I supposed to do without a valet?’
‘You may use Timms’s services if the matter concerns you so much,’ Anthony snapped.
William reddened as he glanced at Timms’s impassive face. ‘No, no—there’s no need for that. One of the footmen will do.’
Anthony made a brusque gesture. ‘Whatever you wish, just not now , William!’
His cousin fell silent, biting his
The butler strode forward and shook her impatiently by the arm. ‘Explain yourself! What are you talking about, child?’
The housemaid had started to cry. ‘I can’t take the backstairs, sir. They’re already in use. I saw the two of them together earlier and no ways am I going down there! Don’t make me!’ She broke off in a welter of tears.
Ufton looked almost apoplectic as the household discipline fell apart around him—and all in front of his employer. He gave the maid a hard stare that promised retribution, and marched towards the backstairs, throwing the door open so that it bounced on its hinges. The crash reverberated through the house and brought some of the other servants out into the hall to see what was going on.
‘Mr Ufton’s on the warpath again,’ Cassie heard one of the footmen whisper gleefully.
There was a scuffle, a feminine squeak, and then Ufton gave an exclamation of wrath and dragged a figure out through the doorway by the scruff of its neck. Cassie heard William give an exclamation.
‘Grant!’ William’s face stiffened as he saw his valet in Ufton’s iron grip. ‘What in God’s name were you doing down there?’
One of the footmen stifled a guffaw. Cecil Grant smoothed back his hair and ostentatiously adjusted his breeches. There was a very self-satisfied smirk on his face. In that moment it was clear to everyone exactly what he had been doing on the backstairs.
The maid was snivelling and Sarah Mardon had put a comforting arm about her. ‘That Mr Grant is a devil with the servants—’ the maid gulped ‘—but since he took up with her ladyship he’s been even worse! Like a ravening dog, he is.’
Anthony Lyndhurst put his cousin to one side and strode forward. His voice cracked like a whip. ‘Kindly explain yourself, Grant.’
Cecil Grant remained insolently silent. From the staircase below came another feminine shriek and voices upraised in a sudden babble of sound.
‘I do believe,’ Anthony said grimly, ‘that your latest paramour has been caught fair and square down in the kitchens, Grant. I can scarce believe such profligate behaviour with the female servants. Disgraceful —’
He broke off abruptly as Timms and Eliza appeared through the door, dragging between them the dishevelled figure of Lady Margaret Burnside. Her hair was falling down, her skirts were crumpled and, most shockingly of all, her bodice was askew and unbuttoned.
‘Mr Grant’s paramour, Major,’ Timms said expressionlessly. ‘Found in flagrante , so to speak.’
Everyone looked at Lady Margaret, who was trying vainly to force her ample bosom back into her bodice.
‘Lady Margaret!’ Sarah Mardon said in horrified tones.
‘I cannot believe it!’ Cassie said, shocked to the core. She stared in fascinated disbelief at the once-immaculate figure of her chaperon.
‘Trollop!’ Eliza had been waiting a long time to have her opinion of Lady Margaret confirmed. ‘Hugging and kissing on the backstairs like a common strumpet! Carrying on for days, they have been, but too clever to be caught out ’til now.’
Cassie looked from Lady Margaret to Cecil Grant. ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed. ‘It was Grant I saw you with in the gardens two nights ago, Lady Margaret, not—’ She glanced up at Peter and fell silent abruptly.
Anthony’s face was like thunder. He turned on the pair. ‘You are both dismissed. You will leave this house at once .’
William Lyndhurst-Flint started to protest. ‘Dash it all, old fellow, what am I supposed to do without a valet?’
‘You may use Timms’s services if the matter concerns you so much,’ Anthony snapped.
William reddened as he glanced at Timms’s impassive face. ‘No, no—there’s no need for that. One of the footmen will do.’
Anthony made a brusque gesture. ‘Whatever you wish, just not now , William!’
His cousin fell silent, biting his
Similar Books
