disgusting, obnoxious, vengeful bird. How dare it soil not only his pristine coat, but his boots as well? And his hat! How on earth would the valet be able to properly clean that?
He spat on the ground, not caring who witnessed it. And when the vile creature had… in his mouth! Shudders rolled through him, nearly forcing the contents of his stomach up his throat. There might not be enough tooth powder in London to rid him of the taste of that.
His carriage was waiting near the Sanctuary gate. Increasing his speed, he hurried toward it. The fewer people who witnessed his appearance at the present, the better. His groom turned toward him and reached to open the door. But his hand stopped in midair. With his mouth dropped open, he stared.
“Stop gawking! Open that door at once!”
The groom obeyed, but his eyes were still the size of walnuts. At least he’d closed his mouth.
As I should have done. Then at least I wouldn’t taste that…
Pushing away the thought, Conrad climbed into the carriage. Relief washed over him when he was finally alone and away from curious stares. Soon he would be home and could change into clean clothes and rinse out his mouth. Lucy and Barrow were probably still filled with mirth at his expense. His face heated. How dare they?
Birds twittered in the trees as the carriage rolled by. Well that was the very last noise he wished to hear. Conrad fisted his hands in anger. He had to marry Lucy. He had to! All because his father had left him in debt up to his chin. Yes, he’d inherited the earldom, but the problems that accompanied it hardly seemed fair. The situation forced him to pursue a woman in whom he had no feelings. In truth, he loathed her. Lucy was vapid and silly and seemed to possess absolutely no redeeming qualities. The fact that he needed her inheritance rankled.
But need it, he did.
Even with the money he’d receive from blackmailing Ashbrook, it wouldn’t be enough without the inheritance. Certainly he overspent and had racked up debt with every business in London, but how was an earl supposed to keep up appearances otherwise? A certain standard of living was crucial to someone of his status.
Society expected it.
So did Mother.
Mother… If he didn’t marry Lucy soon, his mother would have his head. Such a demanding woman. Yet, he respected her. So unlike Lucy, whose sugary sweet demeanor nauseated him. At least, she was sweet to others. Not to him. Never to him. If only she would give him the respect he deserved.
And if she would have accepted one of his multiple proposals over the years, none of this would be an issue.
He wouldn’t be blackmailing Ashbrook for his daughter’s hand.
He wouldn’t have to deal with that common laborer, Barrow.
And he wouldn’t be spitting out bird…
The horses’ hooves slowed as the driver steered the carriage into Conrad’s lane. Finally, he could go inside, away from the outdoors. The filth. The birds.
And he could change into clean clothing and wash his face. And tongue!
He opened the door before his groom had a chance, barely waiting for the carriage to come to a complete stop, avoiding the driver and groom as he hopped to the ground.
Conrad hurried toward the door of his home, relieved when the door opened before he reached it. His butler, Giles, widened his eyes briefly and then composed his features. “Good day, my lord. Do you require—?”
“Stuff it.” Conrad rushed across the entryway and up the steps. He glanced down at his clothing. The mess left by the abhorrent cuckoo was already dry. What if the valet couldn’t remove it? With Conrad already in such debt, he’d be hard pressed to convince the shop owner to let him purchase another suit so soon.
When he entered his rooms, Stephen, his valet, was already there. The man kept Conrad’s things in order and pristine. Would he be able to save the clothing he wore at present?
Stephen turned toward Conrad. “Good day, my—”
The valet’s words died on
He spat on the ground, not caring who witnessed it. And when the vile creature had… in his mouth! Shudders rolled through him, nearly forcing the contents of his stomach up his throat. There might not be enough tooth powder in London to rid him of the taste of that.
His carriage was waiting near the Sanctuary gate. Increasing his speed, he hurried toward it. The fewer people who witnessed his appearance at the present, the better. His groom turned toward him and reached to open the door. But his hand stopped in midair. With his mouth dropped open, he stared.
“Stop gawking! Open that door at once!”
The groom obeyed, but his eyes were still the size of walnuts. At least he’d closed his mouth.
As I should have done. Then at least I wouldn’t taste that…
Pushing away the thought, Conrad climbed into the carriage. Relief washed over him when he was finally alone and away from curious stares. Soon he would be home and could change into clean clothes and rinse out his mouth. Lucy and Barrow were probably still filled with mirth at his expense. His face heated. How dare they?
Birds twittered in the trees as the carriage rolled by. Well that was the very last noise he wished to hear. Conrad fisted his hands in anger. He had to marry Lucy. He had to! All because his father had left him in debt up to his chin. Yes, he’d inherited the earldom, but the problems that accompanied it hardly seemed fair. The situation forced him to pursue a woman in whom he had no feelings. In truth, he loathed her. Lucy was vapid and silly and seemed to possess absolutely no redeeming qualities. The fact that he needed her inheritance rankled.
But need it, he did.
Even with the money he’d receive from blackmailing Ashbrook, it wouldn’t be enough without the inheritance. Certainly he overspent and had racked up debt with every business in London, but how was an earl supposed to keep up appearances otherwise? A certain standard of living was crucial to someone of his status.
Society expected it.
So did Mother.
Mother… If he didn’t marry Lucy soon, his mother would have his head. Such a demanding woman. Yet, he respected her. So unlike Lucy, whose sugary sweet demeanor nauseated him. At least, she was sweet to others. Not to him. Never to him. If only she would give him the respect he deserved.
And if she would have accepted one of his multiple proposals over the years, none of this would be an issue.
He wouldn’t be blackmailing Ashbrook for his daughter’s hand.
He wouldn’t have to deal with that common laborer, Barrow.
And he wouldn’t be spitting out bird…
The horses’ hooves slowed as the driver steered the carriage into Conrad’s lane. Finally, he could go inside, away from the outdoors. The filth. The birds.
And he could change into clean clothing and wash his face. And tongue!
He opened the door before his groom had a chance, barely waiting for the carriage to come to a complete stop, avoiding the driver and groom as he hopped to the ground.
Conrad hurried toward the door of his home, relieved when the door opened before he reached it. His butler, Giles, widened his eyes briefly and then composed his features. “Good day, my lord. Do you require—?”
“Stuff it.” Conrad rushed across the entryway and up the steps. He glanced down at his clothing. The mess left by the abhorrent cuckoo was already dry. What if the valet couldn’t remove it? With Conrad already in such debt, he’d be hard pressed to convince the shop owner to let him purchase another suit so soon.
When he entered his rooms, Stephen, his valet, was already there. The man kept Conrad’s things in order and pristine. Would he be able to save the clothing he wore at present?
Stephen turned toward Conrad. “Good day, my—”
The valet’s words died on
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