Read Online Miss Farrow's Feathers by Susan Gee Heino - Free Book Online
Authors: Susan Gee Heino
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expecting Nigel until tomorrow. No. It couldn't be him. This Mr. Perkins must be yet another man of the lady's very close acquaintance. Just how many men did this modest little spinster have?
And would she like another?
"Thank you, Miss Farrow. I will do my best to see that our, er, meeting this evening goes well," the man said earnestly.
"I appreciate that, Mr. Parker. A satisfactory conclusion to this will surely be a benefit to both of us."
Max firmly bit his cheek to keep from laughing aloud. Or snorting. My, but the chit was cool about her illicit assignations! Obviously she didn't yet know the man who could kindle a blaze beneath her frigid demeanor. At least, she didn't yet know him in the Biblical sense. Not that Max was one to boast, but he had no doubt he could teach the chilly miss a thing or two.
But who was this Perkins and what on earth could he mean to Miss Farrow? There was nothing in her tone that indicated he meant anything to her at all. So why was she planning to engage in scandalous activities if there was no real passion to drive her? Curiosity was driving Max to reckless abandon as he pressed his ear against the door.
"Indeed ,” the gentleman said. “With luck, the new earl will know nothing of it when he arrives tomorrow."
"That is certainly my hope. I do wish to continue on friendly terms with him."
"I can understand. You would naturally wish that."
Max had to wonder what sort of simpering lout this Perkins fellow was. How could he sound so calm and unaffected? Even a fool could see the young lady was just dangling him along. Was this fool so very desperate he would arrange a secret tryst with her all the while knowing she cared more for another?
Then again, Richington was a small village. Choice material like Miss Farrow was not to be found around every corner. Apparently this Perkins was clever enough to realize that jealousy or posturing on his part would get him nowhere. He'd have to make himself content with what he could get. Still, Max could not reconcile any of this in his mind. What on earth was the woman up to?
"Very well," Mr. Perkins continued with unmanly calm. "I shall take my leave, waiting with impatience until you can meet me this evening."
"I'll be as prompt as I can," the young lady said .
Prompt? Who spoke of promptness when planning matters of passion? By God, the woman was an iceberg. She showed as much zeal as if she were scheduling a visit to the fish market. Max shook his head. What sort of tryst was this, these two unbesotted lovers so casual and indifferent? Why should they even bother to put themselves out for it? He could surely understand Miss Farrow’s lack of interest, but how was the Perkins fellow so even and cool? It was unnatural.
Max was contemplating what Perkins must have done or said to tempt her in the first place when he suddenly realized footsteps from inside the room were coming toward him. Damnation! He gathered his wits just in time to jump away, back toward the stairs, and pretended to have just entered the area as the door to the drawing room opened.
A well-dressed —but very middle-aged—gentleman appeared in the doorway. Behind him, Max could see that Miss Farrow was surprised to find someone so nearby. He smiled casually as if he knew nothing and nodded toward the gentleman.
"I beg your pardon, I had no idea there were guests."
With a courteous bow he stepped backward, up onto the bottom step to allow ample room for Miss Farrow and her gentleman to proceed past him toward the front door. They did not. Mr. Perkins understandably narrowed his eye and studied Max. No doubt he had good reason to wonder what Miss Farrow was doing with yet another gentleman in her personal orbit.
She detected the quandary and cleared her throat. "Mr. Perkins, this is Mr. Shirley. He is here assisting my father with, er, a project."
Max bowed once again. “I am the parrot expert, sir. I am assisting with the parrot.”
Mr. Perkin’s brows went
And would she like another?
"Thank you, Miss Farrow. I will do my best to see that our, er, meeting this evening goes well," the man said earnestly.
"I appreciate that, Mr. Parker. A satisfactory conclusion to this will surely be a benefit to both of us."
Max firmly bit his cheek to keep from laughing aloud. Or snorting. My, but the chit was cool about her illicit assignations! Obviously she didn't yet know the man who could kindle a blaze beneath her frigid demeanor. At least, she didn't yet know him in the Biblical sense. Not that Max was one to boast, but he had no doubt he could teach the chilly miss a thing or two.
But who was this Perkins and what on earth could he mean to Miss Farrow? There was nothing in her tone that indicated he meant anything to her at all. So why was she planning to engage in scandalous activities if there was no real passion to drive her? Curiosity was driving Max to reckless abandon as he pressed his ear against the door.
"Indeed ,” the gentleman said. “With luck, the new earl will know nothing of it when he arrives tomorrow."
"That is certainly my hope. I do wish to continue on friendly terms with him."
"I can understand. You would naturally wish that."
Max had to wonder what sort of simpering lout this Perkins fellow was. How could he sound so calm and unaffected? Even a fool could see the young lady was just dangling him along. Was this fool so very desperate he would arrange a secret tryst with her all the while knowing she cared more for another?
Then again, Richington was a small village. Choice material like Miss Farrow was not to be found around every corner. Apparently this Perkins was clever enough to realize that jealousy or posturing on his part would get him nowhere. He'd have to make himself content with what he could get. Still, Max could not reconcile any of this in his mind. What on earth was the woman up to?
"Very well," Mr. Perkins continued with unmanly calm. "I shall take my leave, waiting with impatience until you can meet me this evening."
"I'll be as prompt as I can," the young lady said .
Prompt? Who spoke of promptness when planning matters of passion? By God, the woman was an iceberg. She showed as much zeal as if she were scheduling a visit to the fish market. Max shook his head. What sort of tryst was this, these two unbesotted lovers so casual and indifferent? Why should they even bother to put themselves out for it? He could surely understand Miss Farrow’s lack of interest, but how was the Perkins fellow so even and cool? It was unnatural.
Max was contemplating what Perkins must have done or said to tempt her in the first place when he suddenly realized footsteps from inside the room were coming toward him. Damnation! He gathered his wits just in time to jump away, back toward the stairs, and pretended to have just entered the area as the door to the drawing room opened.
A well-dressed —but very middle-aged—gentleman appeared in the doorway. Behind him, Max could see that Miss Farrow was surprised to find someone so nearby. He smiled casually as if he knew nothing and nodded toward the gentleman.
"I beg your pardon, I had no idea there were guests."
With a courteous bow he stepped backward, up onto the bottom step to allow ample room for Miss Farrow and her gentleman to proceed past him toward the front door. They did not. Mr. Perkins understandably narrowed his eye and studied Max. No doubt he had good reason to wonder what Miss Farrow was doing with yet another gentleman in her personal orbit.
She detected the quandary and cleared her throat. "Mr. Perkins, this is Mr. Shirley. He is here assisting my father with, er, a project."
Max bowed once again. “I am the parrot expert, sir. I am assisting with the parrot.”
Mr. Perkin’s brows went
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