Miss Quinn's Quandary Read Online Free PDF Page A

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intricate folds of his cravat.
    “Will there be anything else you require, your lordship?” Watkins
gave the appearance of always being on the verge of tottering over and Randall
kept on guard to catch him.
    “We’ll have port in the library,” Rushton ordered.
    “Very well, my lord,” Watkins answered and shuffled off down the
hallway.
    “Would have thought Watkins dead by now, Uncle, or at least
retired.” Randall watched the butler disappear into the library.
    Rushton shook his finger at his nephew. “Don’t be disrespectful,
boy.” He gave Randall a push, starting him toward the library. “He was butler
for my father, and his father before him.”
    “It wouldn’t surprise me at all, to find he worked for the first
Earl of Rushton,” Randall snorted, just before stepping into the library.
    “Not so loud, lad. Watkins will hear you.”
    Randall spun to face his uncle. “Hear me? He can still hear?”
    “Yes, sir. Thank you for asking,” the butler responded. “And the
wife still resides here also.”
    Between his uncle’s ramblings and the butler’s questionable
interpretation, conversation must be interesting around the manor, Randall
thought.
    Rushton motioned to the wingback chairs in front of the blazing
hearth and they sat. “Now tell me, how was your trip?” He closed one eye and
gave a measuring glare. “You seem a bit frayed around the edges.”
    “Well, it was long and troublesome. Nothing I’d want to relate.
Would rather put it all behind me, really.”
    “Good! Good!” Uncle Cyrus praised in a fevered pitch. Watkins had
insinuated himself between them and proffered a tray with two glasses. Rushton
took one glass. “I shall have my valet speak to you at once. You look bang up
to the mark, dressed in the first stare of fashion and all that.”
    “What’s the urgency?” Randall asked, taking the remaining glass.
Although his uncle was somewhat unpredictable, he always had a reason for his
actions. Not necessarily good ones, but Randall was becoming increasingly
curious.
    “I’ve called you here so you could accompany me.” Rushton took a
swallow of port and his eyes grew large with excitement. “We’re off to London.”
    “London? Whatever for?” The news did not please Randall.
    “I’ve come to the conclusion it’s high time I remarry,” Rushton
announced. “Don’t you think?”
    Randall tried his best to hide his amused smile and gazed into
his glass. “Well, I really can’t speak for you, Uncle.”
    “Of course not!” Rushton bellowed. “Wouldn’t permit it. Would be demmed pretentious of you. But I’m not getting any younger,
you know.” He patted his rounded belly and grazed his hand over the scant hair
covering his head. “Haven’t got the looks you have, what?” It had occurred to
Randall if they had been related by blood and not by marriage, they might have
looked more similar. “But a man needs companionship in his advancing years. And
the comfort of a woman every now and again, even at my age.”
    “If you say so, sir.” It was becoming an increasingly difficult
task for Randall to keep his laughter reined.
    “Of course I say so,” Uncle Cyrus blustered. “My wealth and my
title are my best features, I’ll wager. But make no mistake, I’ll still have my
pick.” He set aside his glass and stood. “Stand up, let’s have another look at
you, boy.
    Randall did as requested. His uncle rotated him slowly to have a
good look at the back of his coat. Completing the turn, Randall could not help
but notice his uncle staring at the dark curls that graced Randall’s head.
    “I do admire those curls of yours.”
    Randall got the distinct impression it was not the curls that
drew his uncle’s admiration, it was the amount of hair, plain and simple. Uncle
Cyrus hadn’t any to spare, another reason to keep Watkins around as butler. He
was the only one who had less hair than Randall’s uncle.
    Uncle Cyrus had tried to create the illusion of a