tone.
“Captain.” I laughed, pulling away from him. “You are talking nonsense. My decision was perfectly sound. I have yet to meet this Lady Alistair, and there is still the proposition of the hidden treas —” I stopped myself at his darkening look and continued disjointedly, “And anyway, I … I hadn’t yet thanked you for my new dress.” I looked down and smoothed it with my hand.
He looked at the dress. “Ah, yes. Your decision was logical and steady after all. I should have known. You would never make the mistake of making choices based on anything else, would you?”
“I … you …” I stumbled, not knowing the right answer now.
But he stopped me, touching my hand and stilling it from absently smoothing down the skirt. His voice suddenly gentler he said, “You’ve already thanked me for the dress. A thousand times.”
Chapter Eight
Notes: These pompous, conceited, bloated old goats! I have no patience with them. If this is the best society has to offer, I’ll happily take my chances on the perils of the open seas.
Greatly disappointed in Captain. Proved undeserving of confidence placed in him. That is all. Nothing left to be said.
The man who opened the enormous, gleaming mahogany door was small and balding and fit exactly every stereotype of the pretentious eighteenth century English butler.
His eyes traveled over us cursorily, deducing in the matter of seconds that we were people of no consequence and therefore hardly worth the evidently considerable effort common courtesy required.
“I’m sorry, sir. Is Lady Alistair expecting you ?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Well, I’m afraid she is occupied at the moment and is not taking visitors. If you would be so good as to leave your card …,” he told us in snooty, nasal tones, hardly moving his lips, his eyes scanning us from head to foot as he held out a silver tray, careful not to let our unworthy fingers touch the revered cloth of his immaculate white gloves.
The captain placed a card on the ridiculous tray, and the butler began to close the door on us.
“We’ll wait here until she’s seen the card,” the captain told him just before the door slammed shut.
It appeared that the captain had been right. New attire was certainly required for this assignment. Yet, still I was unworthy. Evidently, since my lovely new dress weighed less than a thousand pounds and was narrow enough to fit through doorways, I must be a beggar from the streets and kept as far away as possible from the lady of the house.
And here I’d been thinking I looked pretty darn spectacular!
“Why do we bother with them, Captain?” I muttered, my unhappy eyes still on the closed door.
“Because she’ll be an asset if we do this right.”
“Why? Because she’s rich and pretentious?”
He looked at me, a smile behind his eyes. “You know, for such a rational female, you’re acting awfully emotional all of a sudden. What is it? We put you in a pretty dress and you immediately lose all that careful, objective detachment? If I didn’t know better, I would say your feminine pride had been pricked. He’s just the butler, you know.”
“Emotional! How dare you. I couldn’t care less when fools have no taste. It’s the beauty of being here only to observe. The subject’s personal reaction to me is of no consequence. Where are my notes. I need to write this down.”
His lip twisted, and then he said, “Hush. Someone’s coming.”
The door swung open, and there stood the tallest, stateliest woman I’d ever seen. She had to have been in her fifties, though without the use of surgery or a modern exercise regimen, she managed to have clear, soft skin and a beautiful, trim figure, and her poise left me strangely tongue-tied. Her eyes were suspicious, and then they grew wide, and she said, “Mallory Tucker. It is you.”
“Lady Alistair. You didn’t have to come to the door.”
“After all these years. What on earth are you doing
“Captain.” I laughed, pulling away from him. “You are talking nonsense. My decision was perfectly sound. I have yet to meet this Lady Alistair, and there is still the proposition of the hidden treas —” I stopped myself at his darkening look and continued disjointedly, “And anyway, I … I hadn’t yet thanked you for my new dress.” I looked down and smoothed it with my hand.
He looked at the dress. “Ah, yes. Your decision was logical and steady after all. I should have known. You would never make the mistake of making choices based on anything else, would you?”
“I … you …” I stumbled, not knowing the right answer now.
But he stopped me, touching my hand and stilling it from absently smoothing down the skirt. His voice suddenly gentler he said, “You’ve already thanked me for the dress. A thousand times.”
Chapter Eight
Notes: These pompous, conceited, bloated old goats! I have no patience with them. If this is the best society has to offer, I’ll happily take my chances on the perils of the open seas.
Greatly disappointed in Captain. Proved undeserving of confidence placed in him. That is all. Nothing left to be said.
The man who opened the enormous, gleaming mahogany door was small and balding and fit exactly every stereotype of the pretentious eighteenth century English butler.
His eyes traveled over us cursorily, deducing in the matter of seconds that we were people of no consequence and therefore hardly worth the evidently considerable effort common courtesy required.
“I’m sorry, sir. Is Lady Alistair expecting you ?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Well, I’m afraid she is occupied at the moment and is not taking visitors. If you would be so good as to leave your card …,” he told us in snooty, nasal tones, hardly moving his lips, his eyes scanning us from head to foot as he held out a silver tray, careful not to let our unworthy fingers touch the revered cloth of his immaculate white gloves.
The captain placed a card on the ridiculous tray, and the butler began to close the door on us.
“We’ll wait here until she’s seen the card,” the captain told him just before the door slammed shut.
It appeared that the captain had been right. New attire was certainly required for this assignment. Yet, still I was unworthy. Evidently, since my lovely new dress weighed less than a thousand pounds and was narrow enough to fit through doorways, I must be a beggar from the streets and kept as far away as possible from the lady of the house.
And here I’d been thinking I looked pretty darn spectacular!
“Why do we bother with them, Captain?” I muttered, my unhappy eyes still on the closed door.
“Because she’ll be an asset if we do this right.”
“Why? Because she’s rich and pretentious?”
He looked at me, a smile behind his eyes. “You know, for such a rational female, you’re acting awfully emotional all of a sudden. What is it? We put you in a pretty dress and you immediately lose all that careful, objective detachment? If I didn’t know better, I would say your feminine pride had been pricked. He’s just the butler, you know.”
“Emotional! How dare you. I couldn’t care less when fools have no taste. It’s the beauty of being here only to observe. The subject’s personal reaction to me is of no consequence. Where are my notes. I need to write this down.”
His lip twisted, and then he said, “Hush. Someone’s coming.”
The door swung open, and there stood the tallest, stateliest woman I’d ever seen. She had to have been in her fifties, though without the use of surgery or a modern exercise regimen, she managed to have clear, soft skin and a beautiful, trim figure, and her poise left me strangely tongue-tied. Her eyes were suspicious, and then they grew wide, and she said, “Mallory Tucker. It is you.”
“Lady Alistair. You didn’t have to come to the door.”
“After all these years. What on earth are you doing
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