Read Online Beauty and the Spy by Julie Anne Long - Free Book Online
Authors: Julie Anne Long
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teacups lifted to their lips.
"My dear Mrs. Davies, will you be attending the assembly tomorrow night?" Bullton's imitation of an aristocratic accent was cuttingly accurate. He thrust his pinky out sideways and took a sip.
" Hooo my, I jus' cannot decide 'ow to wear me 'air, or what gown to wear, Mr. Bullton. I must 'ave me maid choose it for me, the way she does everything else for me, as ye ken I canna think for meself ."
They laughed merrily together and clinked teacups.
"Hello," Kit said pleasantly.
They both shot nearly straight up into the air in a blur of scrambling limbs. He watched with some regret as the china cups flew up with them, their contents arcing up in graceful streams and landing on the carpet.
It had been worth not writing ahead to warn them of his arrival, he decided.
"Yer… yer lordship!"
They bowed and curtsied and bowed and curtsied and then bowed and curtsied again, as if bowing and curtsying would make up for the fact that their feet had been up on his mother's ancient French furniture.
"Tis I!" he said cheerily. "How goes it Mrs. Davies? Bullton?"
"It goes… it just… we were…" They stammered over each other.
"Just about to rally the staff to make ready for my visit?" he suggested politely.
"Our apologies, sir. If we'd known you'd be paying a visit, sir—" Bullton had admirably gathered his composure; he was dignified and apologetic now. Good man .
"Didn't know myself, Bullton, Mrs. Davies, and for that I apologize. But if you'd begin airing the rooms, getting some food in—well, you know your jobs. I needn't tell you."
"Yes, sir. No, sir. That is, of course, sir." Another jumble of overlapping words.
"You'll want to see to that stain straight away, Mrs. Davies," he said mildly.
"Y-yes, my lord." Her eyes rolled down to the carpet, and her expression went tragic. Ever since Kit could remember, Mrs. Davies had treated the carpets as though they were her own children. Even the best housekeepers become a little lax in the absence of any sort of lord of the manor, he suspected.
"And is there really an assembly tomorrow night in Barnstable, Mrs. Davies?"
"Y-yes, my lord."
"And where would that be held, if you please?"
"The town hall, sir. Everyone in the town is invited."
That is, everyone except servants , Kit knew.
"Well, then." He regarded them sternly, almost broodingly for a moment, long enough for them to begin fighting not to squirm. "I fully expect there to be an assembly of servants here tomorrow evening. And get in a little�what's your poison, again, Bullton?"
"Wh-whiskey, sir?" Bullton said a little faintly, hope beginning to glimmer around the corners of his mouth.
"I expect you to get in a little whiskey, then, for it. Mrs. Davies, I trust your household funds will cover it?"
"Oh, yes, sir." Mrs. Davies had relaxed a little, too. And then she hazarded a question. "Will you attend the assembly in town tomorrow evening, sir?"
"Of course, Mrs. Davies," he said breezily. It had been many, many years since Kit had set food in Barnstable, and with any luck, his legend would have grown.
The two servants smiled in earnest this time, and he grinned back at them. The villagers would be every bit as surprised to see the viscount as they had been, and Mrs. Davies and Bullton would almost prefer to witness that than have an assembly of their own.
"And will you be here long, sir?" Mrs. Davies asked.
"At least a month, Mrs. Davies. I've a special project here to complete, you see."
He could see her working out in her mind how to break the news to the maids and footmen, who would now actually need to behave as though they were working.
"I'll be out of the house much of the time," he assured her, and she smiled sheepishly at him, knowing her thoughts had been read.
"And your father is well, sir?" Bullton asked carefully.
"He won't be coming, Bullton."
Bullton tried and failed not to look relieved. "Very good, sir. It is a pleasure to see you, sir," he said
"My dear Mrs. Davies, will you be attending the assembly tomorrow night?" Bullton's imitation of an aristocratic accent was cuttingly accurate. He thrust his pinky out sideways and took a sip.
" Hooo my, I jus' cannot decide 'ow to wear me 'air, or what gown to wear, Mr. Bullton. I must 'ave me maid choose it for me, the way she does everything else for me, as ye ken I canna think for meself ."
They laughed merrily together and clinked teacups.
"Hello," Kit said pleasantly.
They both shot nearly straight up into the air in a blur of scrambling limbs. He watched with some regret as the china cups flew up with them, their contents arcing up in graceful streams and landing on the carpet.
It had been worth not writing ahead to warn them of his arrival, he decided.
"Yer… yer lordship!"
They bowed and curtsied and bowed and curtsied and then bowed and curtsied again, as if bowing and curtsying would make up for the fact that their feet had been up on his mother's ancient French furniture.
"Tis I!" he said cheerily. "How goes it Mrs. Davies? Bullton?"
"It goes… it just… we were…" They stammered over each other.
"Just about to rally the staff to make ready for my visit?" he suggested politely.
"Our apologies, sir. If we'd known you'd be paying a visit, sir—" Bullton had admirably gathered his composure; he was dignified and apologetic now. Good man .
"Didn't know myself, Bullton, Mrs. Davies, and for that I apologize. But if you'd begin airing the rooms, getting some food in—well, you know your jobs. I needn't tell you."
"Yes, sir. No, sir. That is, of course, sir." Another jumble of overlapping words.
"You'll want to see to that stain straight away, Mrs. Davies," he said mildly.
"Y-yes, my lord." Her eyes rolled down to the carpet, and her expression went tragic. Ever since Kit could remember, Mrs. Davies had treated the carpets as though they were her own children. Even the best housekeepers become a little lax in the absence of any sort of lord of the manor, he suspected.
"And is there really an assembly tomorrow night in Barnstable, Mrs. Davies?"
"Y-yes, my lord."
"And where would that be held, if you please?"
"The town hall, sir. Everyone in the town is invited."
That is, everyone except servants , Kit knew.
"Well, then." He regarded them sternly, almost broodingly for a moment, long enough for them to begin fighting not to squirm. "I fully expect there to be an assembly of servants here tomorrow evening. And get in a little�what's your poison, again, Bullton?"
"Wh-whiskey, sir?" Bullton said a little faintly, hope beginning to glimmer around the corners of his mouth.
"I expect you to get in a little whiskey, then, for it. Mrs. Davies, I trust your household funds will cover it?"
"Oh, yes, sir." Mrs. Davies had relaxed a little, too. And then she hazarded a question. "Will you attend the assembly in town tomorrow evening, sir?"
"Of course, Mrs. Davies," he said breezily. It had been many, many years since Kit had set food in Barnstable, and with any luck, his legend would have grown.
The two servants smiled in earnest this time, and he grinned back at them. The villagers would be every bit as surprised to see the viscount as they had been, and Mrs. Davies and Bullton would almost prefer to witness that than have an assembly of their own.
"And will you be here long, sir?" Mrs. Davies asked.
"At least a month, Mrs. Davies. I've a special project here to complete, you see."
He could see her working out in her mind how to break the news to the maids and footmen, who would now actually need to behave as though they were working.
"I'll be out of the house much of the time," he assured her, and she smiled sheepishly at him, knowing her thoughts had been read.
"And your father is well, sir?" Bullton asked carefully.
"He won't be coming, Bullton."
Bullton tried and failed not to look relieved. "Very good, sir. It is a pleasure to see you, sir," he said
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