Read Online To Lure a Proper Lady by Ashlyn Macnamara - Free Book Online
Authors: Ashlyn Macnamara
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I won’t. Do we have an understanding?”
Apparently not, for Pendleton sneered. “Does the duke know you’re here?”
“We’ve been introduced.”
“Let me ask again. Does the duke know
you’re
here?” A simple change of inflection, but one that carried so much meaning.
“He recognized me. So don’t think you can go running to him with my tale. He’s already aware. How much he knows of
your
past actions is a different question entirely.” He plucked at a non-existent thread on his coat sleeve. “I couldn’t help but overhear you say you had important business with Sherrington. I wonder how he’d feel about negotiating with a man of your predilections, shall we say.”
Pendleton advanced, fists clenched. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s a bargain.” Dysart allowed himself a grin, one he usually reserved for games of hazard when he rolled three mains in a row. “You hold up your end, I’ll hold up mine.”
“And just what, specifically, is my end?”
Dysart unfolded himself from the chair. “Very simple. You forget you ever had occasion to call me Gus. In fact, you forget you ever met me before today. And you don’t do anything that might land you in trouble with me. Are we clear now?”
Chapter 6
“I don’t understand.” Lizzie ran her finger down the column of entries in the account book, but the numbers did not change.
“Is something amiss, my lady?” Lucas Barrows, Papa’s estate agent, posed the question with a hint of mild surprise.
“It shouldn’t be. Not according to these figures.”
But down in the kitchens, Cook had told a completely different tale. “Suppliers refusing orders over bills past due.” The woman had twisted her weathered hands in her apron as she fretted over their carefully planned menus. “Barely enough flour for bread, and we shan’t have cake. Not for this crowd. And there’s no salmon for tonight. Not unless we send coin. It’s nearly midsummer. Why won’t the fishmonger wait until we’ve collected the rents the way he usually does?”
Lizzie had neglected her guests for an hour while she considered their stores and rearranged their supper offerings. She’d sent a footman off with a substantial portion of her pin money to appease the local merchants and secure deliveries for tomorrow. Now she only had to sort out the books and figure who was owed what—except apparently they were all paid up.
She considered Barrows’s creased face for a moment. He’d been with the family for years. If anyone knew how they’d come to this state, he would. “How is it possible the only foodstuffs we have in quantity are what the estate produces? But the miller and the fishmonger and goodness knows who else refuse to supply us? They claim we didn’t pay the proper amounts in March and they won’t extend any more credit. Yet the ledger tells a completely different story.”
“What’s this?”
Oh, good heavens. The last thing she needed was Snowley poking his nose into the matter. Yet here he was, red-faced and panting. Had he run all the way across the house to find her here? He was also standing entirely too close, craning his neck to read over her shoulder.
“Why are we worried about business at a time like this?” he went on. “Our guests are seeking their hostess to direct the entertainments.”
Our guests.
As if he were the host. As if they were married.
She turned and thrust the ledger at him. “Can you make sense of this?”
A line formed between his brows, and he scrunched his mouth to one side. His fingers drummed against his thigh. “Everything looks to be in order.”
“Yes, you’d think so, but apparently we’ve enough bills outstanding that some local merchants refuse to extend us any more credit. I don’t understand how that happens.”
Snowley gestured to their surroundings. Richly carved walnut paneling covered the walls of Papa’s study. Thick Turkish carpeting cushioned their feet. Beyond heavy velvet curtains, an army of
Apparently not, for Pendleton sneered. “Does the duke know you’re here?”
“We’ve been introduced.”
“Let me ask again. Does the duke know
you’re
here?” A simple change of inflection, but one that carried so much meaning.
“He recognized me. So don’t think you can go running to him with my tale. He’s already aware. How much he knows of
your
past actions is a different question entirely.” He plucked at a non-existent thread on his coat sleeve. “I couldn’t help but overhear you say you had important business with Sherrington. I wonder how he’d feel about negotiating with a man of your predilections, shall we say.”
Pendleton advanced, fists clenched. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s a bargain.” Dysart allowed himself a grin, one he usually reserved for games of hazard when he rolled three mains in a row. “You hold up your end, I’ll hold up mine.”
“And just what, specifically, is my end?”
Dysart unfolded himself from the chair. “Very simple. You forget you ever had occasion to call me Gus. In fact, you forget you ever met me before today. And you don’t do anything that might land you in trouble with me. Are we clear now?”
Chapter 6
“I don’t understand.” Lizzie ran her finger down the column of entries in the account book, but the numbers did not change.
“Is something amiss, my lady?” Lucas Barrows, Papa’s estate agent, posed the question with a hint of mild surprise.
“It shouldn’t be. Not according to these figures.”
But down in the kitchens, Cook had told a completely different tale. “Suppliers refusing orders over bills past due.” The woman had twisted her weathered hands in her apron as she fretted over their carefully planned menus. “Barely enough flour for bread, and we shan’t have cake. Not for this crowd. And there’s no salmon for tonight. Not unless we send coin. It’s nearly midsummer. Why won’t the fishmonger wait until we’ve collected the rents the way he usually does?”
Lizzie had neglected her guests for an hour while she considered their stores and rearranged their supper offerings. She’d sent a footman off with a substantial portion of her pin money to appease the local merchants and secure deliveries for tomorrow. Now she only had to sort out the books and figure who was owed what—except apparently they were all paid up.
She considered Barrows’s creased face for a moment. He’d been with the family for years. If anyone knew how they’d come to this state, he would. “How is it possible the only foodstuffs we have in quantity are what the estate produces? But the miller and the fishmonger and goodness knows who else refuse to supply us? They claim we didn’t pay the proper amounts in March and they won’t extend any more credit. Yet the ledger tells a completely different story.”
“What’s this?”
Oh, good heavens. The last thing she needed was Snowley poking his nose into the matter. Yet here he was, red-faced and panting. Had he run all the way across the house to find her here? He was also standing entirely too close, craning his neck to read over her shoulder.
“Why are we worried about business at a time like this?” he went on. “Our guests are seeking their hostess to direct the entertainments.”
Our guests.
As if he were the host. As if they were married.
She turned and thrust the ledger at him. “Can you make sense of this?”
A line formed between his brows, and he scrunched his mouth to one side. His fingers drummed against his thigh. “Everything looks to be in order.”
“Yes, you’d think so, but apparently we’ve enough bills outstanding that some local merchants refuse to extend us any more credit. I don’t understand how that happens.”
Snowley gestured to their surroundings. Richly carved walnut paneling covered the walls of Papa’s study. Thick Turkish carpeting cushioned their feet. Beyond heavy velvet curtains, an army of
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