The Butler Did It by Kasey Michaels Page A

windows would rouse me before noon tomorrow.”
    â€œYes, my lord,” Thornley said as he turned and headed for the servant stairs, to rouse Mrs. Timon and gather the rest of the meager staff, knowing that noon tomorrow would come soon enough, and that, unless he could conjure up a miracle, the pitched battle his lordship mentioned in jest would be taking place very much inside Westham mansion.
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    E MMA ESCAPED into the hallway to give herself a short respite from Mrs. Norbert’s chewing, on the pretext of dashing upstairs for a shawl to ward off the chill, and an unwillingness to ring and bother Claramae, who was doubtless reluctant to brave the hallways at night for fear that Riley would try to steal yet another kiss.
    Somehow, Emma was not quite sure precisely how it had transpired, Claramae had decided that Emma should be her confidante, and now bent her ear almost daily with stories about the wily Riley and his penchant forhiding himself around corners, in order to pounce on the maid, “all six arms and ten hands of him, miss, I swear it.”
    Not that Riley would ever be the man of Emma’s maidenly dreams…but there were times she rather envied the housemaid, who at least knew what a man’s kiss felt like. It had to be better than her mama had described it, and could not possibly be as wonderful as her grandmother claimed.
    Emma had taken only a few steps when she heard footsteps behind her, and turned to see Thornley approaching, looking over his shoulder as if someone might be following him, then staring at the closed doors to the drawing room as if he might be contemplating finding boards and a hammer, so that he could nail those doors shut.
    As a matter of fact, unknown to Emma, that was fairly close to what Thornley was thinking. Mostly, he had opted not to climb directly to the marquis’s chamber via the servant stairs in order to check on his tenants, hoping they’d stay planted where he’d put them until he could figure out precisely where to stuff them next.
    Emma smiled as she noticed the silver tray he carried, piled high with meat and cheese and fruit and a small, sliced loaf. “Oh, how lovely, Thornley,” she said as he all but bumped into her. “For the gentlemen, I presume, as ladies are not supposed to care for such heavy food. Still, if you don’t mind…” She reached out and snatched a shiny green apple from the arrangement.
    Thornley smiled the sickly smile of the almost caught, but still with some life in him yet, if he could only muster a sufficient lie, and said, “You’re very welcome, Miss Clifford. I was…I was just taking this upstairs, for Mr. Clifford. His stomach, he tells me, is at last sufficiently calm for thoughts of filling it. If you’ll excuse me…?”
    Emma stepped aside, only after snatching a rich, purple plum from the plate, as well as the bottle of wine. “I don’t believe Mr. Clifford needs this, Thornley.”
    â€œNo? Um, yes, Miss Clifford. You’re correct, of course. What could I have been thinking? Lemonade, perhaps? I’ll have Claramae fetch some at once.”
    â€œOh, no, don’t bother her, Thornley.” She set the bottle on a nearby table, then put the fruit back on the plate and took the tray from the butler’s nerveless fingers. “There you go. You fetch the lemonade, all right, and I’ll take this tray up to Mr. Clifford. I wish to have a word or two with him in any case, especially now, while he’s still suffering the pains of his foolishness.”
    â€œI…but…I wouldn’t want you to…that is…”
    Emma tipped her head to one side and blinked up at him through her long, dark lashes. “Yes, Thornley?”
    The man smiled again, an even more sickly thing than his first effort, then gave up, thanked Emma, picked up the bottle he’d uncorked in the pantry and trudged back down the hallway. He was