Lords of Scandal: The Beleaguered Lord Bourne / The Enterprising Lord Edward

HIS MASTER WAS in a fine temper this morning, Leon mused placidly as he deftly caught the spoiled cravat that went winging past his shoulder and handed his lordship a fresh one. That it had something to do with the young countess Leon was certain, but since Renfrew, that old stickler for propriety, had pulled him away from the door last night, Leon was left to ponder whether or not the rumpled state of the bed had anything to do with it. It was unusual for his old major to keep anything from him, Leon having served as his batman in Spain, but the servant instinctively knew that he was not soon to become privy to this latest secret.

His toilette having suffered sadly for his haste, Kit left his valet to straighten the mess his dressing room had become and slammed out of his chamber, intent on quitting the mansion without breakfast and heading for the nearest club that saw nothing wrong with a purely liquid breakfast. Grabbing the stair rail, Kit swung himself onto the stairs and pelted toward the foyer, only to be stopped in his tracks by a reedy cockney voice exclaiming: “Coo, Del, wouldya clap yer glims on the fine gentry mort! Puss like a thundercloud ‘e’s got. ‘ang me fer a bachelor’s sprig iffen it ain’t the arl ’imself.”

The object of this speech inclined his head and took in the sight of three banty-legged creatures dressed in Wilde livery standing at some semblance of attention near the wide front door. He knew what they were supposed to be, they were supposed to be footmen, but they looked for all the world to be escapees from Newgate—low toby men who made their living by picking pockets and breaking into people’s houses. Another example of my wife’s discerning judgment of character, he decided angrily. But these three cutpurses make Goliath and Tiny look like the cream of the crop! Forcing his feet to carry him closer, he stopped on the bottom step and introduced himself.