released an inelegant snort. "You cannot maintain this farce, Major. Look at you." She waved at his imperious stance. "Even as a butler, you cannot resist trying to control the situation. Our marriage would be less than an hour old before you issued your first command. Then I would be forever carrying out your orders, falling to whatever line you drew."
"I would not make you into a slave!" he countered hotly.
"Then your subordinate. Perhaps a lieutenant... or a private!"
"You would be my wife!" But even as he spoke, he dropped his hands onto his waist and took an angry step forward. She had no doubt this was exactly how he looked when disciplining an unfortunate underling. And from the sudden flushed cast to his face, he knew exactly what he had done.
Dropping his arms to his sides, he shifted his demeanor back to one of a butler. Of course, having seen him as a commanding officer moments before, she knew his subservience was merely an act, a guise put on in this ridiculous campaign to win her hand.
"You cannot maintain this posture," she commented quietly. "It will drive you mad in less than a day."
He simply lifted an eyebrow, his expression one of quiet challenge. "You do not know me as well as you believe, Lady Sophia."
She met his challenge with one of her own. "I know I will not change my mind, no matter how many tea cakes you serve me."
His smile was slow in coming, secret in its arrival, and sweetly exciting when it appeared. It was a man's smile, filled with masculine pride and quiet daring. It thrilled her down to her toes. It also made her extremely suspicious.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
He raised his eyebrows in an expression of complete innocence. "Only that I shall have to serve you something other than tea and cakes."
Chapter 4
Four hours later, Major Wyclyff did not think he was up to serving anything. His leg ached, his back was stiff, and his head throbbed from a brigade-sized headache. But most of all, his hands and wrists ached from polishing silver so tarnished it reflected only gray. Why, his thumbs even felt flat.
"Well, 'ere's a sight." interrupted the gravelly voice of his batman. "A decorated major o' the Hussars, bent over like a hobbled horse polishing an old tabby's silver. Why, it be enough to stir a man to suicide."
Anthony groaned and turned around on the high stool in his cramped little butler's closet. "Stubble it, Kirby. We have been in worse situations than this."
"Aye," the short man agreed with a solemn nod. "But never one wot smelled so bad."
Anthony could not help but agree. The polishing solution the maid recommended reeked to high heaven, especially in this cramped room. "Did you come here for a reason?" he asked, thankfully setting aside a badly tarnished teaspoon.
"Aye. Came t' see if ye regained yer senses. We can be back in London by tomorrow noon."
Anthony thought lovingly of his small, sweet-smelling rooms in London and sighed. "I cannot go back until I am married."
"But the appointment—"
"Is for a married man."
Kirby's thick face compressed into a tight line of disapproval. Anthony had seen it too many times before to miss it now. It said in silent anger that his superior officer and current employer was ten times a fool. And for once, Anthony wondered if the sullen batman was right. "Say your piece, man."
Kirby did not disappoint him. He squared his shoulders and started in. "Begging yer pardon, sir, but there's many a woman to bed without dressing in knee breeches and polishing silver."
"I do not want a woman to bed, Kirby. I will have Sophia to wife and none other."
Kirby frowned, his whole face quivering with frustration. "But why, sir? Wager or no wager, I can't see 'at she's worth all this." He gestured disdainfully at the tiny butler's closet.
Anthony felt his body clench as anger burned in his gut. It was not a reasonable reaction. His batman was only repeating what he had told himself for the last few days. But the
"I would not make you into a slave!" he countered hotly.
"Then your subordinate. Perhaps a lieutenant... or a private!"
"You would be my wife!" But even as he spoke, he dropped his hands onto his waist and took an angry step forward. She had no doubt this was exactly how he looked when disciplining an unfortunate underling. And from the sudden flushed cast to his face, he knew exactly what he had done.
Dropping his arms to his sides, he shifted his demeanor back to one of a butler. Of course, having seen him as a commanding officer moments before, she knew his subservience was merely an act, a guise put on in this ridiculous campaign to win her hand.
"You cannot maintain this posture," she commented quietly. "It will drive you mad in less than a day."
He simply lifted an eyebrow, his expression one of quiet challenge. "You do not know me as well as you believe, Lady Sophia."
She met his challenge with one of her own. "I know I will not change my mind, no matter how many tea cakes you serve me."
His smile was slow in coming, secret in its arrival, and sweetly exciting when it appeared. It was a man's smile, filled with masculine pride and quiet daring. It thrilled her down to her toes. It also made her extremely suspicious.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
He raised his eyebrows in an expression of complete innocence. "Only that I shall have to serve you something other than tea and cakes."
Chapter 4
Four hours later, Major Wyclyff did not think he was up to serving anything. His leg ached, his back was stiff, and his head throbbed from a brigade-sized headache. But most of all, his hands and wrists ached from polishing silver so tarnished it reflected only gray. Why, his thumbs even felt flat.
"Well, 'ere's a sight." interrupted the gravelly voice of his batman. "A decorated major o' the Hussars, bent over like a hobbled horse polishing an old tabby's silver. Why, it be enough to stir a man to suicide."
Anthony groaned and turned around on the high stool in his cramped little butler's closet. "Stubble it, Kirby. We have been in worse situations than this."
"Aye," the short man agreed with a solemn nod. "But never one wot smelled so bad."
Anthony could not help but agree. The polishing solution the maid recommended reeked to high heaven, especially in this cramped room. "Did you come here for a reason?" he asked, thankfully setting aside a badly tarnished teaspoon.
"Aye. Came t' see if ye regained yer senses. We can be back in London by tomorrow noon."
Anthony thought lovingly of his small, sweet-smelling rooms in London and sighed. "I cannot go back until I am married."
"But the appointment—"
"Is for a married man."
Kirby's thick face compressed into a tight line of disapproval. Anthony had seen it too many times before to miss it now. It said in silent anger that his superior officer and current employer was ten times a fool. And for once, Anthony wondered if the sullen batman was right. "Say your piece, man."
Kirby did not disappoint him. He squared his shoulders and started in. "Begging yer pardon, sir, but there's many a woman to bed without dressing in knee breeches and polishing silver."
"I do not want a woman to bed, Kirby. I will have Sophia to wife and none other."
Kirby frowned, his whole face quivering with frustration. "But why, sir? Wager or no wager, I can't see 'at she's worth all this." He gestured disdainfully at the tiny butler's closet.
Anthony felt his body clench as anger burned in his gut. It was not a reasonable reaction. His batman was only repeating what he had told himself for the last few days. But the
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