Read Online The Butler Did It by Kasey Michaels - Free Book Online Page A

conclusion.
    â€œWe…we could tell ’em the truth, give ’em their money back, and ask ’em very kindly to take themselves off,” Claramae offered weakly, then blew her nose in her apron.
    Just what Thornley had been thinking, which was a worriment, if the simple-headed Claramae thought it a good idea.
    An expensive silence settled over the room.
    Mrs. Timon thought about the locked box in the bottom of her closet. She was a year short of having enough to lease a small cottage by the sea, complete with hiring a local girl as servant of all work, and never cooking another thing for another person. She’d eat twigs before she’d stand over another stove in August.
    Riley wondered where and how he’d come up with his share, as he hadn’t saved so much as a bent penny, preferring to wager everything each year on such hopefully money-tripling pursuits as bearbaiting, cockfights, and the occasional dice game in his favorite pub.
    Claramae, author of the idea, sat quietly and didn’tthink at all, which was all right, because she really wasn’t very good at it anyway.
    Which left Thornley.
    â€œI suppose we could. We were overly ambitious in the first place, I realize now. And, as it’s nearly gone seven, and we have had no other idea, I suppose we’ll have to resort to the truth. Come along,” he said, getting to his feet. “The Clifford ladies and the rest will be rising shortly, as is their custom. We must speak to them before they ring for their morning chocolate and alert the other servants to their presence. We’ll also begin with them simply because there are more of them.”
    â€œYes, but the money…?” Mrs. Timon asked, shuffling her carpet-slippered feet as she followed Thornley.
    â€œAs this entire idea was mine, I will be responsible for all remunerations, Mrs. Timon,” Thornley said gamely.
    â€œYes, but who will pay them?” Riley asked worriedly, trailing along behind, dragging Claramae with him.
    Â 
    E MMA HEARD THE KNOCKING on her bedchamber door, but chose to ignore it. She didn’t want her morning chocolate. She didn’t want morning, as she’d not slept well, a nagging feeling that something might be wrong in the mansion keeping her awake, alert for any sound.
    The sound now, however—whispers mixed with whimpering—could not be ignored, so she kicked back the covers and padded to the door of the bedchamber and put her ear to the door.
    â€œClaramae, I said knock and enter. As a man, obviously I can’t go in there, not with Miss Clifford possibly still not dressed for the day.”
    â€œBut I don’t…I don’t want to.”
    â€œStand back, the lot of you. I’ll do it.”
    â€œRiley, stifle yourself.”
    â€œOh, for goodness’ sakes, I’ll do it.”
    Emma jumped back as the latch depressed, and barely missed having the tip of her nose nipped off as the door swung inward and Mrs. Timon stepped inside…followed by a widely grinning Riley, who took no more than two swaggering, arms-waving steps before a long, black-clad arm appeared, grabbed the footman by the collar of his livery and yanked him back out again.
    â€œMiss Clifford?”
    â€œYes?” Emma said, stepping out from behind the door. “Is something wrong, Mrs. Timon?”
    â€œWell, miss, you could maybe say that, miss…can I fetch your dressing gown?”
    Emma frowned at the woman, then retreated to the chair beside her bed, snatched up her dressing gown and slipped into it. “Better, Mrs. Timon?” she asked, tying the sash tightly around her waist.
    â€œYes, miss, thank you, miss,” Mrs. Timon said. “Your slippers?”
    What on earth? Emma located her slippers and put them on.
    â€œThank you, miss. That should do it,” the cook cumhousekeeper cum obscure visitor said, then opened the door once more.
    In trooped Riley, still grinning (but no longer