The Serpent Prince Read Online Free PDF

He kept his voice casual. “Where are my clothes?”
    She paused, halfway out, and shot him an enigmatic look over her shoulder. “You didn’t have any when I found you.” She closed the door quietly.
    Simon blinked. Usually he didn’t lose his clothes until at least the second meeting with a lady.
    “THE VICAR’S HERE TO SEE YOU, MISS.” Mrs. Brodie poked her head into the sitting room the next morning.
    Lucy sat on the blue damask settee, darning one of Papa’s socks. She sighed and glanced at the ceiling, wondering if the viscount had heard her visitor below his window. She didn’t even know if he was awake yet; she hadn’t seen him this morning. Something about his amused gray eyes, so alert and alive, had flustered her yesterday. She was unaccustomed to being flustered, and the experience wasn’t pleasant. Hence her cowardly avoidance of the wounded man since leaving him to write his letter.
    She laid aside her mending now. “Thank you, Mrs. Brodie.”
    The housekeeper gave her a wink before hurrying back to the kitchen, and Lucy rose to greet Eustace. “Good morning.”
    Eustace Penweeble, the vicar of Maiden Hill’s little church, nodded his head at her as he had every Tuesday, barring holidays and bad weather, for the past three years. He smiled shyly, running his big, square hands around the brim of the tricorne he was holding. “It’s a beautiful day. Would you care to come with me as I make my rounds?”
    “That sounds lovely.”
    “Good. Good,” he replied.
    A lock of brown hair escaped from his queue and fell over his forehead, making him look like an immense little boy. He must have forgotten the powdered, bobbed wig of his station again. Just as well. Lucy privately thought he looked better without it. She smiled at him fondly, gathered her waiting wrap, and preceded Eustace out the door.
    The day was indeed beautiful. The sun was so bright it nearly blinded her as she stood on the granite front step. The ancient orange brick of Craddock-Hayes House looked mellow, the light reflecting off the mullioned windows in front. Old oak trees lined the gravel drive. They’d already lost their leaves, but their crooked branches made interesting shapes against the crisp, blue sky. Eustace’s trap waited near the door, Hedge at the horse’s head.
    “May I assist you in?” Eustace asked politely as if she might actually turn him down.
    Lucy placed her hand in his.
    Hedge rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “Every blamed Tuesday. Why not a Thursday or Friday, for Jaysus’ sake?”
    Eustace frowned.
    “Thank you.” Lucy’s voice overrode the manservant’s, drawing Eustace’s eyes away from him. She made a production out of settling herself.
    The vicar got in next to her and took the reins. Hedge retreated to the house, shaking his head.
    “I thought we’d drive around to the church, if that meets with your approval.” Eustace chirruped to the horse. “The sexton has alerted me that there may be a leak in the roof over the vestry. You can give me your opinion.”
    Lucy just refrained from murmuring an automatic how delightful. She smiled instead. They bowled out of the Craddock-Hayes drive and into the lane where she’d found the viscount. The road looked innocent enough in the light of day, the empty trees no longer menacing. They topped a rise. Dry stone walls rolled over the chalk hills in the distance.
    Eustace cleared his throat. “You visited Mistress Hardy recently, I understand?”
    “Yes.” Lucy turned to him politely. “I brought her some calf’s foot jelly.”
    “And how did you find her? Has her ankle healed from the tumble she took?”
    “She still had it up, but she was feisty enough to complain that the jelly was not as tasty as hers.”
    “Ah, good. She must be getting better if she can complain.”
    “That’s what I thought myself.”
    Eustace smiled at her, coffee-brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re a wonderful help to me, keeping track