Lady Olivia To The Rescue Read Online Free PDF

Shaking his head, he said, “No, but’ I’ll tell them what’s what, I will. And who would argue with me? Now, tell me again, what words begin with this little letter?” He held up his drawing again, and the children began to call out words.
    Their visit to the school complete, the coachman turned the carriage toward Bond Street to the millinery shop. There, Olivia selected several lengths of colourful ribbon to trim her old bonnet. This task accomplished, she purchased an ostrich plume, dyed a lovely willow green, for her aunt’s favourite turban.
    As she left the shop, she collided with the tall, scowling Lord Sheridan. Offering a gruff apology, he leaned over to retrieve her small packet of ribbons and his cane.
    Straightening again, the ostrich plume she held slapped his face, and he shoved it away roughly. It fluttered to the ground, and he bent to retrieve this, too.
    Thrusting it into her hand, he grumbled, “Demmed feather.”
    “No, my lord,” she replied sweetly.
    Squinting at her through the green tendrils, he pushed them aside and peered down at her. With a swift motion, his quizzing glass went up and so did his nose. “I beg your pardon?”
    “I said it is neither demmed nor is it a feather. It is a plume , an ostrich plume, to be correct.”
    Olivia took a step back as the scent of spirits assaulted her nose. She gave him her best smile and prepared to move along. No sense in trying to converse with a man in his cups.
    His hand on her shoulder prevented her progress.
    Harold, watching from his station by the carriage door, took a step toward them. Olivia shook her head.
    “Are you making game of me, Miss…”
    “ Lady Olivia Cunningham, Lord Sheridan. We may not have been formally introduced but we have met, and quite recently, too. Surely you remember last night?”
    Still staring at her through that awful magnifying glass, he cleared his throat. “Beg pardon, Lady Olivia. Here is your package. Good day.”
    With this, he was gone. Olivia shook her head and watched him walk away. His gait was steady and sure. Had he not been forced to lean over twice, she was certain no one would have been able to detect his drunken state. With a shrug of her shoulders, she walked to the carriage.
    Olivia climbed inside, and Harold joined her. He signalled the coachman to start. In the distance, church bells chimed the hour.
    Four o’clock. Olivia sighed.
    Lord Sheridan in his cups so early in the day. What a waste of such a fine figure of a man. He must be terribly unhappy.

    “Dash it, Fenwick! I can do it myself!”
    “Certainly, m’lord,” said the valet, continuing to brush his master’s waistcoat while Sheridan tore off his ruined cravat and began once again.
    “Hell and blast!”
    The valet presented yet another cravat. Sheridan eyed it with suspicion and then muttered, “Oh, tie the blasted thing yourself. I’m all thumbs tonight!”
    “Very good, m’lord.” Moments later, the valet stepped away to allow his master a view of the masterfully styled cravat.
    “Yes, well, that is quite acceptable.” Sheridan glanced at the valet’s stricken face and added, “More than acceptable, of course. You have outdone yourself yet again, Fenwick. Thank you.”
    “You are very welcome, m’lord. We are wearing the black coat this evening, are we not?”
    “Indeed we are. The colour suits my mood perfectly.”
    “I hope your indisposition is not the result of any inefficiency on my part or that of any member of your staff, m’lord.”
    “Of course it isn’t, as you well know. It is the result of a man going to his club too early and imbibing far too much good port with a friend who has a head made of iron. I do not, unfortunately. Now, I must meet with my same friend for a demmed rout, of all things, but I shall come about.”
    “Of course, m’lord.”
    Sheridan shrugged into the coat. ‘There is one thing, Fenwick.” The valet continued to fuss over his coat. “I didn’t bring home a woman