Suzanne Robinson Read Online Free PDF

a wall and grabbed for her at the same time.
    She ducked under his arm, whirled, and scampered down the stairs. Still cursing, Jocelin put his weight down on his injured foot and grimaced. He pulled off his boot and examined it. On the top he made out the imprint of her heel.
    “Hang it!”
    A door slammed somewhere in the bowels of the scullery. Jocelin limped back the way he’d come. His gait sounded odd, since he walked on one booted and one stockinged foot. He swore at himself all the way back to his room.
    Loveday had the habit of appearing magically, like a genie. He did so now. Jocelin expected him, since the man seemed to have the ability to know exactly when he would be required, no matter what his master was doing.
    Throwing his boot on the floor, Jocelin stomped to a chair beside the fireplace and sat down. “Ice, Loveday.”
    “Indeed, my lord?”
    “I hurt my foot, Loveday.”
    “How unfortunate, my lord.”
    “Not just for me, Loveday.”
    “Yes, my lord.”
    “I’m going to strangle that maid, Loveday.”
    “Which maid, if I may inquire, my lord?”
    “The plump, lemony one, Loveday.”
    “Ah, Miss Gamp, my lord.”
    “Gamp? Gamp? Gamp, Loveday?”
    “Yes, my lord. May I inquire if your lordship wishes the maid dismissed?”
    Jocelin shot to his feet, grunted when he put his weight on his swelling foot, and sat down again. “No. No, no, no. If you get rid of her, I can’t have revenge, Loveday.”
    “No, my lord.”
    “And don’t say ‘No, my lord’ in that disapproving governess way of yours.”
    Loveday shoved an ottoman over to Jocelin’s chair. “If I may say so, it has not been our custom todally with the maids in our service. We have prided ourselves on this small virtue.”
    Jocelin flushed and propped his foot on the ottoman.
    “Well, Loveday, we can’t be so proud of our virtue anymore.”
    “No, my lord?”
    “No.”
    “I will get the ice, my lord.”
    “She smells like lemons, Loveday.”
    “Indeed, my lord. A most wholesome fruit, the lemon.”
    With this comment Loveday left Jocelin slouched in his chair, staring at his foot and wishing he had a cup of hot tea—with lemon.

S trangling the neck of her gown, Liza ran downstairs. As she pattered over the thin carpet tacked to the risers, she listened for the viscount’s footsteps, but heard none. She’d been in terror that he would follow her. The heels of her boots tapped the polished wood floor of the kitchen. No notice was taken, however, for a cry had gone up from the butler’s pantry.
    “Tea!” Choke called. “Tea, Mrs. Eustace. At once.”
    Liza tiptoed into the scullery, past the maid on her knees scrubbing the floor, and out a rear door. She reentered the house by a side door, reached the back stairs, and climbed to the attic, where she shared aroom with the third housemaid. She arrived breathless and still shaking from her encounter with that uncivilized aristocrat. Choke would think her still occupied with the bedchambers, so she had a few minutes to repair the damage to her disguise.
    The ragged edges of her gown fell open to reveal the padding sewn into it. She’d been desperate to conceal this lining and the stuffed corset when the viscount had torn the dress. The man was mad. No, not mad, but far too intelligent. He’d caught her watching him, and now she’d alerted him to her interest. Luckily he possessed the vanity of most men and thought her interested in his glorious person.
    She stripped off her gown and set about righting her corset. Usually she and her roommate dressed in the near total darkness of early morning and late night, which prevented her from revealing her padding and allowed her to stuff her hair beneath a cap. Without the need for concealment, Liza pulled the cap off.
    Cascades of hair tumbled forth. Liza thought of it as neither-here-nor-there hair, for it was neither so pale as to be blond nor so dark as to be brown. It was an unsatisfying taupe, which she darkened with