Dangerous Dalliance Read Online Free PDF Page A

when I asked about it. No doubt Snoad had heard it from the duke’s family at Branksome Hall, and wished to ornament his conversation with this verbal trinket.
    I sent a maid off to Williams for my father’s watch fob. When the maid brought it, it was attached to the watch. I had no earthly use for Papa’s watch. It was too large for a lady. I would give both watch and fob to Snoad, as a present. I meant to present it formally. The next thought was that Aunt Lovatt would raise the roof beams at the very idea of giving Snoad such a valuable gift.
    Her disapproval lent the undertaking an aura of intrigue. Mrs. Lovatt seldom spoke to Snoad; she was not likely to hear of the gift. As we were leaving for Brighton the next morning, I decided to make the presentation that same evening. I could not go to Snoad’s room, and disliked to have him sent for. I don’t know why I balked at that. He was a servant, but he was not a regular house servant. He had worked exclusively for Papa. It occurred to me that he might be at the loft, and I took the gift up the two flights of stairs to check.
    My patent slippers made little sound. The loft door was ajar, and I pushed it open wider. A faint aroma of cigar smoke wafted toward me, barely discernible over the pungent sea scent, but enough to tell me Snoad was there. I didn’t know he smoked. Really I knew remarkably little about him, when one considered that we had lived under the same roof for two years. My father liked cheroots; perhaps Snoad had caught the habit from him.
    In the silver light from the moon, I saw a man’s outline, limned in black against the mesh grating. It made a romantic sort of silhouette. A proud, well-shaped head was staring out at the night. Snoad was at the trap by which the pigeons left and returned to the loft. He murmured something in a crooning voice, and I realized that he held a bird cupped in his fingers. He opened the trap and let it out. There was a soft flutter of wings, and the pigeon streaked off, first toward the sea, then it got its bearings and headed north. Snoad looked around warily, as if sensing an intruder.
    “Snoad,” I called, before he caught me spying on him.
    He turned with a convulsive jerk. “Miss Hume?” he called.
    “Yes, I hope I didn’t frighten you.”
    “Not at all. Has something happened?” he asked, hurrying along the parapet toward me.
    “No. I’m sorry if I alarmed you. Is this not an odd time of day—or night—to be releasing a pigeon?”
    “They must learn to fly and keep their bearings at all hours, and in all weather.” He looked at his cheroot, and extinguished it under his foot before I could stop him.
    “You didn’t have to do that. I don’t mind cheroots. Papa used to smoke them.”
    “Yes, he gave me a box of his.”
    I cleared my throat for the presentation. “You were very close to my father, Snoad. He spoke highly of you. I’m sure he would want you to have something to remember him by. I want you to take this.” I handed him the watch.
    Our fingers met and fumbled together in the darkness. It was a strangely touching moment, not entirely devoid of romance. I pictured myself a Lady Bountiful, bequeathing a treasure on a serf.
    Snoad took the watch and examined it, smiling. “I only meant the pigeon fob,” he said, drawing something out of his pocket. “I have never seen another like it.”
    “It is unique. I had it made for my father.”
    “I know.”
    I pondered this reply, wondering if it had any significance. “But what good is a fob without a watch?” I said blandly. I saw then that what he held was a watch. Fancy Snoad having a watch! “Oh, you already have one!” I said, a little vexed that my munificence was unnecessary. But his would not be so fine as Papa’s, which was gold-plated.
    “The duchess gave me this when I left Branksome Hall.” He slid it in his pocket and attached my father’s watch in its place. “It is a fine gold watch, but it has not the sentimental