Worth Lord of Reckoning Read Online Free PDF Page B

privacy of the pond after dark.”
    He believed her. Not a single underfootman would dare lurk among the bushes to spy on her, lest the lad find himself turned off without a character the next morning by the vision most likely to have haunted his dreams.
    “The staff is all abed?”
    “Carl will be on duty by the front door. He’s reliable, and we knew you might show up in advance of your coaches.”
    “How did you know?”
    “I am in correspondence with Lewis, your house steward, who suggested you might not travel in the coach with the young ladies. Horseback is faster and likely preferable in all but wet weather.”
    He did not have a weakness for the managing variety of women, no matter how tall, pretty or troublesome. Particularly not for managing, unforthcoming women—though she’d suffered a knock on the head and hadn’t quite been deceitful.
    “Can you call a maid to stay up with you? You might slip into a coma if we let you sleep through the night.”
    “The blow to my temple didn’t render me insensate, so much as the prospect of your unwanted attentions disconcerted me.”
    He was silent for a moment, trying to find a different meaning for her words and failing.
    “My attentions, as you call them, were in aid of preserving your life. If you seek to put period to your existence, you have my condolences. I’m still not letting you quit, though. Not until my little family sortie in the teeming jungles of Surrey is complete.”
    “You have a very crude grasp of the employer-employee relationship,” she informed him, finishing her tea. “Even you must understand I can give notice whenever I please.”
    He considered her, considered she was pale and wet and cold, and probably in need of a hot bath and some cosseting, else she would not be so sour-natured in the face of his consideration and concern.
    More than physical comforts, she probably wanted privacy.
    “Come.” He rose and held out a hand. “I will escort you to your chambers and see you safely to bed. You can refine your insults and ingratitudes in lieu of sleep.”
    She took his hand, but only after perusing it as if to examine him for scales, claws, or evidence of barnyard relatives. Then she weaved when she gained her feet, which necessitated Worth once more putting an arm around her waist. That she again permitted such behavior suggested she really wasn’t doing very well.
    Served the ungrateful baggage right.
    The housekeeper at Trysting had her own private parlor and sleeping chamber. Those hadn’t moved in the five years since Worth’s last visit, and Mrs. Wyeth let him escort her there without further comment.
    He would not worry over her silence.
    When they reached her door, he pushed it open, seeing no candle lit.
    “This won’t do,” he muttered, propping her against the wall and taking down the lamp from the sconce. He lit a branch of candles in her parlor, enough that the room was minimally illuminated.
    “Shall I light you a fire?”
    “You shall not.” She stood by the door, his jacket closed about her in a two-handed grip.
    “Then get you into bed. You’re one breeze away from the shivers.”
    “You have my thanks for your efforts.” But, of course, she didn’t move.
    “For God’s sake, woman, if I were intent on taking advantage, I’d have done so outside, in the dark, far from those who’d hear you scream, and well before you regained the use of your viper’s tongue.”
    He moved to the bedroom and lit a candle beside her bed.
    Other solicitors referred to Worth Kettering as “a detail man.” The compliment was grudging, usually offered by somebody who wasn’t a detail man. Sloppiness in a solicitor was a deadly sin, as far as Kettering was concerned, but he also understood that discipline took a man only so far toward cataloging every minute aspect of a situation.
    Beyond that point, an ability to perceive details was a God-given gift.
    Jacaranda Wyeth’s quarters revealed myriad details to him.
    She was