Читать книгу How to Wed a Baron - Кейси Майклс, Kasey Michaels - Страница 12

WIGGLESWORTH DEPOSITED the coddled eggs in front of his master with all the trepidation of the servant charged with delivering the head of John the Baptist to Salome; he thought it might be what the baron wanted, but could not be sure of its reception now that it was a done thing.

The porridge had been looked upon, but not eaten. The kippers—done to a turn!—had been waved away without so much as a “ye gods, Wigglesworth, not those horrid things.” Even the inn’s own country ham, purely a desperate move by the servant who put little trust in any cooking save his own, had been met with a fairly blank stare and a short shake of the head.

“Wigglesworth, I said I wasn’t— Oh, damn. Here, let me force these down. I wouldn’t want to put you into a sulk.”

“Thank you, sir,” the servant said, sighing. And then he dared more. “Is there…something amiss, my lord?”

“Your solicitude becomes tiresome. A man can’t forgo a single breakfast out of thousands without something being wrong?”

Wigglesworth wrung his hands even as Brutus, standing in a corner—hulking in a corner—shook his massive head sorrowfully, either for worry over his employer or the fact that he now, after being passed the porridge and the kippers for his own consumption, would be denied the coddled eggs.

“Your bed wasn’t slept in, my lord,” Wigglesworth pointed out quietly. “There was nary a hint of reproach when I nicked you that small—infinitesimal, I assure you—cut with the razor. And you did not even a single time remonstrate with me when I informed you that your second-best Hessians seemed to have suffered a fatal crack to the heel on the cobblestones yesterday.”

“My, what a litany of abuses you’ve laid before me, Wigglesworth. Very well, consider your sorry self run up and down by the rough side of my tongue. Now may I be left alone? Wait—a fatal crack?”

“Possibly. Perhaps. I may have overstated. I will deliver them personally to Mr. Hoby when we are returned to London.”

Justin put down his fork, what little appetite he may have had, either for the eggs or soothing Wigglesworth’s feelings, now gone. “An event that is to be somewhat delayed,” he said as the major entered the breakfast room. “Ah, Luka, there you are,” he went on, no trace of anything but happiness at the appearance of the man in his voice. “Would you like my man here to prepare you something with which to break your fast? He has quite taken over the kitchen, you understand.”

“Thank you, no. I’ve been up for hours, and have already eaten,” the major said, a note of recrimination in his tone, as if anyone who remained abed past dawn was a sluggard not worth considering. “Pardon me, but I could not help but overhear. We are not immediately setting out for London? It was my understanding that Lady Alina was to be presented to your Prince Regent, and then you and she were to immediately exchange your vows, sealing the…the, um, bargain.”

“Just what I tarried here to speak to you about. Such haste is unseemly, don’t you think? Her ladyship is fatigued from her travels. It would be unconscionable to force her to continue her journey without some small respite, which is why I sent off one of my outriders at first light to the estate of my dear friend the Duke of Ashurst, to alert him that Lady Alina will be his guest for a few days. The duke will be dispatching outriders to meet you along the road and escort you the remainder of the journey. They’ll be with you by the time you arrive at your first night’s lodging, I’m sure. Rooms will be waiting for you.”

Luka narrowed his eyes. His moustachios may have twitched as well, but it was a close-run thing to know if this was a natural occurrence or a remarkable aberration caused by the man’s consternation at the position he had been forced into by his king. If it was the latter, Luka had Justin’s full sympathy. And empathy, if it came to that.

“Lady Alina will be the duke’s guest? And you will be…?”

“Elsewhere. I see no need to provide you with a listing of my comings and goings, I’m afraid, as I’ve been my own master for quite some years now. Until recently, that is, which is a circumstance that is about to change. You’ve protected her thus far, and Brutus and my own trusted and quite prodigiously well-armed outriders will be with you. I imagine you’re up to getting her safely to Ashurst Hall. Well, Brutus is,” Justin qualified, getting to his feet, quitting the room and leaving the major to follow or not, whatever his inclination. Not that he was surprised to have the man hot on his heels as he strode out to the inn yard.

“I beg your pardon? Have you forgotten that you are charged with protecting Lady Alina?”

“She has her prepared-to-die-for-her secretary,” Justin said, turning to his left and heading for the stables. “Anyone approaches with a nefarious look in his eye, and you just be a good fellow and attack him with your quill. You—yes, you. Saddle the bay now, my fine young fellow, and there’s a guinea in it for you.”

The eager ostler hastened to do Justin’s bidding, but not quickly enough to save the baron from the major’s fury.

“You’re leaving? Just like this? I can’t allow you to do that.” To give credence to his words, he roughly took hold of Justin’s arm above the elbow.

Justin turned slowly to face the irate man. “Allow? You cannot allow? Worse, you’re putting a crease in my jacket.”

The major loosed his grip. “The devil with your jacket. Last night you looked like a man who was going to tell her about the threat to her life. Did you?”

“I allowed my mind to be changed on that head,” Justin told him, taking the gloves and hat and riding crop Wigglesworth, who had materialized seemingly from out of nowhere, pressed into his hands. “Thank you, Wigglesworth. You remain, as always, a treasure.”

“You’re welcome, my lord. I would have been here sooner, had you but told me you were about to depart. You will be careful, won’t you, sir?”

“Am I not always careful, Wigglesworth?” Justin asked, putting on his curly brimmed beaver and lightly tapping it into place.

“No, sir, you’re not.” The servant turned to address the major. “He’s not, you know. But he always triumphs. If his lordship says that everything will be fine, then it will be fine, because he wouldn’t have it any other way. But perhaps not always immediately.”