The Elusive Lord Everhart: The Rakes of Fallow Hall Series Read Online Free PDF Page B

studying him. Gradually, one corner of his mouth lifted. “About the identity of his traveling companions. Hmm . . . You’ve gone pale, my friend, like a man haunted.”
    Gabriel knew that look, the I know you’re holding the trump’s ace look. He needed to put Danvers straight and erase the calculating gleam in his eyes. “Or like a man who’d imbibed too much the previous evening.”
    “Or perhaps”—his friend grinned—“like a man who is about to lose a great deal of money.”
    “You’re acting like Montwood. Greed is causing you to see things that are not true.” That austere tone had returned to his voice, nearly making him wince. “I never thought you would plot against me.”
    “I never thought you would make it so easy.” Danvers’s ribald laughter echoed off the walls as he moved to the door and quit the room.
    Gabriel blew out a breath. The arrival of their guests had taken him unawares. If he’d been prepared, he never would have revealed his cards to Danvers. Now, the only option left was to prove that he was completely unruffled. Since it was the same mask he wore each day, it would be easy to secure for a single evening.
    Then, by tomorrow, the Crofts would be gone and Gabriel’s ten thousand pounds—along with his life—would be safe once again.

CHAPTER THREE
    “A bite of bread, please, cousin,” Pamela said, her voice weak and frail. “I prefer it without the crust. Just a small piece, barely large enough to fit on my tongue. And if you could butter both sides, I’m certain I would be content.”
    Calliope reminded herself that she’d volunteered to keep her cousin company while the others were dining. She’d had no desire to sit across from Brightwell.
    So far, all she’d managed to accomplish in the past hour was to serve broth that was “a trifle too hot” at first, and when she blew on it, became “a trifle too cold.” The bread pieces near the center of the loaf were too moist and the outer part too dry. The wine was too sweet. The cheese too salty. The tart too crumbly.
    “Of course.” Calliope clenched her teeth in a smile. “For what is bread without butter?”
    Queen Pamela sat propped up against a mound of pillows draped in rose silk, the same color of ribbon woven through her pale tresses. All around her was designed for her comfort—a wine-colored velvet coverlet, matching brocade bed curtains tied to each corner post, sumptuous furs draped over her feet, mulled wine in a pewter goblet on a Pembroke table, a softly crackling fire in the hearth, and a portrait of fluffy white lambs frolicking on a hillside above the mantel.
    Still, Pamela was not content. Her next sigh proved as much. “It is unfortunate that the servant girl had to assist with dinner. I should like to hear more harp music. It relaxes me.”
    Calliope stiffened. A golden harp sat in the corner, and likely with tiny droplets of blood on the strings because of how long poor Nell had been asked to play. “As you know, I never learned. So in this one thing I cannot ease your burden,” Calliope said, producing a small laugh in order to keep censure from her tone. “Besides, the girl needs to rest at some point.”
    Her cousin sniffed. “I don’t see why. If I prefer her to remain here, the household staff should make allowances.”
    Incredulous, Calliope’s mouth fell open. She nearly dropped the tiny piece of bread before she had the chance to lay it on the spoon. “I’m certain not even the greatest houses keep harpists on hand.”
    “Then the world we live in is cruel, indeed,” Pamela whined. Then, blinking up at Calliope, she shook her head. “I am too distressed to eat another bite.”
    Calliope looked from her cousin to the miniature square of perfectly buttered bread. Irritation made her fingers tighten around the spoon handle. Turning, she placed the spoon on the tray—minus the deliciously buttered bread. There was no point in letting it go to waste, not when servitude made her