The Butler Did It by Kasey Michaels

consequences be this time, my lord?” Emma called after him, because now he really had made her angry, attacking her family that way.
    He didn’t answer, because he didn’t have an answer, damn it. But he’d think of one. Just as soon as he returned to the privacy of his rooms and punched something.
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    F ANNY OPENED DOORS in his lordship’s dressing room and sniffed at the fresh linen smell. But there was nothing of interest behind any of those doors, or in any of those drawers, and she’d already inspected his lordship’s jewelry cases, finding his selection to be limited but very fine.
    She loved snooping. Not that she’d found anything of interest in Olive Norbert’s rooms, but Sir Edgar’s might be worth another visit if the man took the air again this afternoon.
    Sipping from a glass she’d filled with wine she’dpoured from a decanter in the main chamber, Fanny returned there now and took up position in one of the wing chairs in front of the fireplace, the one with a clear view of the door to the hallway. Because her feet didn’t quite touch the floor, she slid her bent legs up onto the cushion and tucked them under her gown, then sighed in real happiness.
    She appreciated a fine chamber such as this. Spacious. Well-appointed. Lots of very good wood, and Chinese wallpapers lining the walls. Beany had a bedchamber very much like this one, in his mansion in Portland Place, as she recalled. Pity the man’s idea of fun was to have her wear his Hessians and wield a riding crop. She’d had to give him up, finally, but by then she’d had Johnnie and, bless him, he’d been hung like a—
    â€œâ€¦and make sure to count the silver before that Mrs. Norbert leaves,” Morgan said, opening the door, then closing it behind him. “A madhouse, that’s what this is,” he told himself, heading for the drinks table. “I’m in Bedlam, with better furnishings.”
    â€œTalk to yourself, do you? My Geoffrey used to do that, quite often. Then again, he may have been talking to me, but I gave up listening after the first five years. Never liked him better than when we were going our own way, seeking our own pleasures. My lord? Would you care to bring your drink over here?”
    Morgan was staring at the old woman. “My God, they’re everywhere,” he said, blinking.
    â€œDon’t just stand there, boy, sit, sit,” Fanny commanded, waving her arm at him. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to seduce you.”
    â€œThere’s a relief, madam,” Morgan said, regaining his composure—it was becoming more difficult, but he’d had five years of practice, so he was fairly confident he wouldn’t kill anyone for full minutes yet.
    He took up his glass and headed for the chair, inspecting Fanny as he came. Short, which was probably where Miss Clifford got her small size, quite thin, and still rather handsome. Once a beauty, he was sure of that, and her eyes were still a vivid blue, but although he could see that her beauty had faded, obviously the woman looked into a friendly mirror. She was actually batting her eyelashes at him.
    â€œMrs. Clifford the senior, I presume. How did you get in here?” he asked after downing half his wine. “Or has Thornley decided to exercise some sort of insurrection, and take over the mansion for himself and his…tenants?”
    â€œNothing so dramatic, I’m afraid, my lord. I was forced to employ my own initiative, so I followed your valet up from the kitchens, tapped him over the head with a handy vase, trussed him up, and threw him out the window.”
    â€œGood,” Morgan said, finishing off his wine. He couldn’t be starting to enjoy himself, could he? “With any luck, he didn’t bounce.”
    Fanny threw back her head and laughed, a most delightful, girlish laugh. “That’s it, boy. Not easily ruffled, are you? Although