one thing Aunt Minty loved, it was a good bit of profanity.
“Besides,” Tally added, “I don’t think we’re going to the Frost Fair today, since neither the carriage nor our new footman have deigned to show up, and the Duchess intends to send him packing when he does arrive.”
“Who—the driver or the footman?” Pippin asked. “For I doubt you can fire poor Mr. Stillings, since he has been in our family for more than thirty years.”
“I have no intention of sacking Mr. Stillings. It is that Mr. Thatcher I intend to dismiss. He is entirely unsuitable, never mind his obvious disregard for punctuality. Besides, there is such a thing as a man who is too handsome for his own—” Felicity’s blustering came to a sudden halt when she spied the sly smile on Pippin’s lips.
“And I say we keep Mr. Thatcher,” her cousin said, “if he does deign to return. He has you in a fluster, and that is a good thing.”
“I am in no such state. And certainly not over a footman!” Felicity crossed her arms over her chest. Why, she had never heard such nonsense!
“He was a looker, that one,” Aunt Minty declared. Apparently she hadn’t been as asleep as she appeared. “Seems a shame to send him packing. Thought he might be something nice to take a gander at when he came in to tend the fires and such.”
“Aunt Minty!” all three girls said.
The old woman shrugged. “I ain’t blind. And I ain’t dead. I’ve had me fair share of fellows in my life, and I tell you the handsome ones always had a way about them. I remember a highwayman who used to come around the inn from time to time. Now what was his name? Gentleman, he was, and that was all that mattered. He had a way about him, he did. When he was to cast an eye in yer direction, there was little chance you’d be saying no.”
Felicity closed her eyes and rubbed her brow. “Oh, heavens, Aunt Minty, this is exactly what I was saying before! You mustn’t say such things. If anyone was to find out that you are—”
“Good God!” Tally said, adding a curse in Russian that brought Felicity’s gaze up. “Look who’s coming down the street!”
Felicity glanced up and her gaze landed on the tall, solitary man strolling toward them. There was something so commanding about his gait, the set of his shoulders, the tip of his hat, that she found herself mesmerized, much as she had been yesterday when he came to their door seeking employment.
Thatcher. The man had to be some nobleman’s by-blow, for if you didn’t know better, you might mistake his hawkish visage, Roman features, and height for that of a baron or even a viscount.
“That isn’t who I think it is?” Pippin was saying, squinting her eyes to get a better look.
“It is,” Felicity muttered. “Mr. Thatcher, our new footman. And carrying our livery, I might add.”
“No, no, Duchess,” Tally said, tugging at Felicity’s elbow and pointing in the opposite direction. “There.”
Felicity turned around and instantly her heart sank.
There was no mistaking the lady in the grand carriage approaching, despite the thick stack of blankets and bundles of furs. Miss Sarah Browne rode forth like the Queen herself, being drawn by four matched white horses.
“Only that pretentious American would ride about in the middle of winter in an open carriage so all could see her new hat and gown,” Tally declared, though there was no missing the note of envy in her words.
“Whatever is she doing in London?” Felicity whispered. “I thought she’d gone back home for good.”
“Well, she’s here now, so you’d best fortify yourself, Duchess,” Tally said, reaching over and squeezing her sister’s hand. “We could always let slip to Temple that we suspect her of spying for the Americans.”
Felicity shook her head. “Wouldn’t work. No one would ever think her smart enough to carry out such a deception.” Especially not their good family friend, Temple, now the Duke of Setchfield, whose
“Besides,” Tally added, “I don’t think we’re going to the Frost Fair today, since neither the carriage nor our new footman have deigned to show up, and the Duchess intends to send him packing when he does arrive.”
“Who—the driver or the footman?” Pippin asked. “For I doubt you can fire poor Mr. Stillings, since he has been in our family for more than thirty years.”
“I have no intention of sacking Mr. Stillings. It is that Mr. Thatcher I intend to dismiss. He is entirely unsuitable, never mind his obvious disregard for punctuality. Besides, there is such a thing as a man who is too handsome for his own—” Felicity’s blustering came to a sudden halt when she spied the sly smile on Pippin’s lips.
“And I say we keep Mr. Thatcher,” her cousin said, “if he does deign to return. He has you in a fluster, and that is a good thing.”
“I am in no such state. And certainly not over a footman!” Felicity crossed her arms over her chest. Why, she had never heard such nonsense!
“He was a looker, that one,” Aunt Minty declared. Apparently she hadn’t been as asleep as she appeared. “Seems a shame to send him packing. Thought he might be something nice to take a gander at when he came in to tend the fires and such.”
“Aunt Minty!” all three girls said.
The old woman shrugged. “I ain’t blind. And I ain’t dead. I’ve had me fair share of fellows in my life, and I tell you the handsome ones always had a way about them. I remember a highwayman who used to come around the inn from time to time. Now what was his name? Gentleman, he was, and that was all that mattered. He had a way about him, he did. When he was to cast an eye in yer direction, there was little chance you’d be saying no.”
Felicity closed her eyes and rubbed her brow. “Oh, heavens, Aunt Minty, this is exactly what I was saying before! You mustn’t say such things. If anyone was to find out that you are—”
“Good God!” Tally said, adding a curse in Russian that brought Felicity’s gaze up. “Look who’s coming down the street!”
Felicity glanced up and her gaze landed on the tall, solitary man strolling toward them. There was something so commanding about his gait, the set of his shoulders, the tip of his hat, that she found herself mesmerized, much as she had been yesterday when he came to their door seeking employment.
Thatcher. The man had to be some nobleman’s by-blow, for if you didn’t know better, you might mistake his hawkish visage, Roman features, and height for that of a baron or even a viscount.
“That isn’t who I think it is?” Pippin was saying, squinting her eyes to get a better look.
“It is,” Felicity muttered. “Mr. Thatcher, our new footman. And carrying our livery, I might add.”
“No, no, Duchess,” Tally said, tugging at Felicity’s elbow and pointing in the opposite direction. “There.”
Felicity turned around and instantly her heart sank.
There was no mistaking the lady in the grand carriage approaching, despite the thick stack of blankets and bundles of furs. Miss Sarah Browne rode forth like the Queen herself, being drawn by four matched white horses.
“Only that pretentious American would ride about in the middle of winter in an open carriage so all could see her new hat and gown,” Tally declared, though there was no missing the note of envy in her words.
“Whatever is she doing in London?” Felicity whispered. “I thought she’d gone back home for good.”
“Well, she’s here now, so you’d best fortify yourself, Duchess,” Tally said, reaching over and squeezing her sister’s hand. “We could always let slip to Temple that we suspect her of spying for the Americans.”
Felicity shook her head. “Wouldn’t work. No one would ever think her smart enough to carry out such a deception.” Especially not their good family friend, Temple, now the Duke of Setchfield, whose
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