Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 04] by Dangerous Lady Page B

in hot pursuit.
    “Merciful heavens, he can’t go up there,” Miss Abigail exclaimed from the anteroom threshold. “Jackson, catch him! Quickly!”
    “I’ll go,” Jenifry said, but Letty caught her arm.
    “Stay here, all of you,” she ordered, snatching up her skirt with her free hand and hurrying after the monkey. Over her shoulder she cried, “You would just frighten him more. He’ll come to me. I’ll only be a moment, I promise you.”
    Miss Abigail cried, “But, my dear, you mustn’t!”
    Letty paid no heed. She had reached the landing and at the end of the corridor ahead, she caught a glimpse of Jeremiah tearing around a corner with the cat skidding wildly in his wake. She ran after them, rounding the corner in time to see the little monkey hurl itself at a door at the end of the hallway. To her astonishment, the door flew open and he disappeared inside, still chattering at the top of his lungs. Another, definitely human shriek accompanied his.
    Reaching the doorway, she stopped, amazed at the sight that met her eyes. Jeremiah, perched atop a nearby curtain, still chattered angrily, and the marmalade cat clung determinedly, swaying, halfway up the curtain. The couple in the bed was what astonished her, however. Recognizing the wide-eyed, clearly embarrassed, and quite naked Catherine, Letty deduced that the man who had flung the covers over his head before she had entered was not Catherine’s husband.
    “Oh, dear,” Miss Abigail said behind her, “we were afraid you might find out. Miranda will be vexed.”

SIX
    L ETTY GLANCED AT MISS Abigail, who wrung her hands in clear distress. In her agitation, the elaborate confection of lace, ribbons, feathers, and beads atop her little head twitched and bobbed in a colorful dance.
    “Miranda particularly asked Lady Witherspoon not to come today,” she said fretfully, “but her ladyship insisted, and now look what’s come of it. Miranda will be so dreadfully vexed, and I am sure one cannot blame her.”
    “Ma’am, really, what on earth …” Letty began, only to fall silent when she could not think of an acceptable way to word the question she was burning to ask.
    Catherine had dived beneath the covers to join her companion. The bed quaked with their movements, while Jeremiah hurled simian epithets at the marmalade cat, still inching its way slowly but determinedly up the curtain.
    Stepping away from the door, and clearly expecting Letty to follow her, Miss Abigail said, “I know that you said I should stay below, dear, but you must see now that I simply could not let you come up here alone.”
    “Yes, I understand why you felt you could not,” Letty agreed, watching her but not stirring from the threshold, “especially if you knew what I would find.”
    “Well, of course, I knew that, although naturally, I could not know precisely where your dear little monkey would run.
    I did not know exactly what you would find, either, even here, but Miranda says that when the worst possible thing can happen, it does happen. I fear this proves that, as usual, she knows whereof she speaks. Do come away now, dear.”
    “Surely, ma’am, you and Mrs. Linford do not condone what they are doing in there. I must tell you, I do not believe that man can be Lord Witherspoon.”
    “No, of course he is not,” Miss Abigail said with an air of surprise. “My goodness me, Lord Witherspoon has a perfectly good house of his own in Berkeley Square. Why would he need to come here to go to bed with his own wife?”
    “But if you knew what I would find, and if you know that those two are not man and wife …”
    When Letty paused expectantly, Miss Abigail said with a sigh, “I know what this must look like to you, my dear, but truly—”
    “It looks like a brothel,” Letty said, glancing again at the bed, which continued to twitch spasmodically.
    “Oh, dear, no, not a brothel,” exclaimed Miss Abigail. “Not at all! We prefer to think of it in the French fashion, as une