The Smuggler Wore Silk Read Online Free PDF Page B

The tea doesn’t taste particularly good so he may not like it, but try to make him drink it. Add honey for flavor if you have it.”
    “I will. Thank you.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I know you need new doors for the cabinet in his lordship’s pantry. I’ll have those made for you by next week.”
    Grace desperately wanted to tell him that no payment was necessary, but she knew he would insist.
    “I’ll see you next week then,” she replied. “Remember, come to the manor and wake me if Ben has any problems in the night, no matter what time it is.”
    “I will, Miss Gracie,” he repeated, disappearing through the door.
    Grace returned to the crushed comfrey root. She emptied the powder onto a battered set of silver scales for proper measurement. After measuring out an acceptable portion, she brushed the fine granules into a muslin sachet and set it aside. She hadn’t finished measuring the second batch when there was another knock, this time from the door inside the manor.
    “Miss Gracie?” The butler’s reedy voice issued from a thin face perched upon a long neck and narrow shoulders.
    “Yes, Binkle?”
    “A messenger arrived from Lord and Lady Hammond with an invitation. Lord Cannon stated he will attend the Hammonds’ gathering and bade you to formulate the appropriate response.”
    He held out the invitation. Grace wiped her hands on her apron before accepting it. As usual, it was addressed to Thaddeus Cannon as well as to Grace, though she hadn’t attended an assembly in years. The occasion was a ball, with the Earl of Langford as the guest of honor to welcome him back to the community.
    “I’ll write the response, Binkle.”
    “Certainly. I will see that it is delivered to Lady Hammond.”
    She stepped into the hall and used the heavy ring of keys she always carried at her waist to lock the door. With its comforting mix of spices, sweet flowers and earthy herbs, the stillroom tucked in the rear of Cannon Manor often served as her refuge, but it contained expensive herbs and spices and even substances that were poisonous.
    Grace slipped through the hall, Binkle at her heels, intending to go to her tiny personal sitting room. But her uncle, Lord Cannon, appeared in the hall before her. He was dressed in his usual riding breeches and coat. Buttons gaped and seams strained, so that he appeared to be a little round sausage stuffed into the casing of his clothing.
    Grace automatically moved to the side of the hall to allow Lord Cannon to pass, Binkle doing the same behind her. But Lord Cannon stopped in the hall and turned to face her.
    “You will answer Lady Hammond’s invitation as directed.” The thick brown mustache that bisected his face twitched as he spoke.
    “Yes, Uncle.” Grace folded her hands in front of her and bowed her head slightly in the manner her uncle deemed proper.
    “You will see to it that my guests have every comfort available to them this evening.”
    “Of course, Uncle. I have already made arrangements—”
    “Just see that it’s done,” he interrupted, rocking back on his heels.
    The crunch of gravel came through the open windows in the rooms beyond. Cannon frowned. “Who’s calling?” he demanded of Grace.
    “I don’t know, Uncle.”
    “Well. Get the door, Binkle.” Cannon waved his riding crop toward the butler as if to shoo him along.
    “Of course, my lord.” Binkle jerked, a quick spasm as though his body suddenly realized he was supposed to be manning the door. He spun on his heel and dashed toward the front of the manor.
    Grace would not, of course, be invited to greet the caller. She
should
leave her uncle to his guest and go about her duties, but curiosity had her trotting behind Lord Cannon, staring at the bald circle on the top of his head while he stomped along behind Binkle. It was so rare for Lord Cannon to have an unplanned caller.
    They reached the front hall. Binkle tugged his coat into place, then drew a deep breath and straightened