“Well, good morning to you too, sunshine. Is there a problem?” She glared at him, digging her toe into the gravel.
He leaned close to her as the Scotsman gave a mocking smile. Avery hissed the words into her ear. “Get into the carriage, and do not argue with me.”
Mrs. Harper opened the door to the area, stifling Leah’s retort. Ooooh, Avery was so going to freaking get it later. Glowering at him, Leah turned on her heel and half stomped to the plain black carriage that stood waiting outside the area.
What was Avery’s deal, anyway? The stable master had been nice to her. He definitely hadn’t been as macho-chest- beaty as Avery had. He was almost acting possessive of her.
That thought nearly made her trip on a cobblestone.
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seat beside Henrietta. A knot started in her stomach,
tension and nausea combined. He hadn’t said anything, hadn’t given any indication he was interested in pursuing her. And, on that somewhat awkward subject, what was she feeling for him?
She looked down at her gloved hands. She was here for the duke, wasn’t she?
“Sara,” Henrietta said loudly. Leah tossed a hard glance sideways at the little devil maid, her bullshit-alarm throwing off some huge signals.
“Yes, Henrietta?”
“Did you know that the dowager especially likes it when servants speak with her in a familiar manner?”
Henrietta smoothed her skirt nonchalantly. “I am told that she and her scullery maid have a nice little tête– à– tête every evening.”
Sara’s jaw dropped in clearly overdramatic shock.
Leah rolled her eyes.
“Oh yes,” Sara nodded, her words wooden. She’d clearly practiced this hundreds of times. “The dowager does indeed like it when servants call her by her Christian name, Hyacinth.”
“Yes. And she is also quite fond of…” Henrietta trailed off as Avery and another footman entered the carriage. Once they were seated and the door closed, the carriage creaked to a start and jounced along the road toward Tunstall Place.
Well, at least Henrietta and Sara stopped giving me advice that’ll get me skewered by the dowager, Leah thought. Avery sat across from her, looking out the window. She took advantage of the silence to examine him and gauge her reactions. It was almost like a science experiment.
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His hands folded in his lap, his jacket pressed and straight, his hair pulled neatly back into what he called a queue, his face solemn. His hazel eyes, clear and bright as they looked out on the slowly passing streets. His nose was crooked, and she caught herself wondering what had happened to disrupt the straightness. Her skin warmed as she took him in, and something in her chest loosened pleasantly.
They jounced over a rut, and she realized with a start that she’d been staring at him like he was a half-dressed Chippendale. Heat climbed her cheeks and she looked out the window herself.
What the hell was wrong with her?
DUKE. She was here for the DUKE. Not for his manservant. Mrs. Knightsbridge had been clear. Well, sort of clear. And Avery had sworn that he was the last person on earth who could be meant for her. So she’d best get her brain in the game and start playing to win.
The carriage jounced along the busy and crowded streets, the air inside thick with tension.
Leah picked at the threads on her cloak. This was as awkward as a blind group date.
The footman beside Avery was checking out Sara, who was staring at the ceiling as if it was printed with the winning lotto numbers. Henrietta glared at Avery as if she could make him disappear for ruining her set-up of Leah’s failure. And Avery stared out the window, a crease marring his forehead.
Dump them in a big house with some video cameras, and there was reality TV gold right there.
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that looked a lot like Granville House, only not quite
as fancy. Avery offered his hand to assist her from the carriage, but Leah ignored it and hopped down to the gravel alone. Sure, it was a childish move, but damn it, he’d acted like a caveman with Lachlan earlier.
Mrs. Harper, who’d ridden in the first carriage, clapped her hands.
“Henrietta, Sara, Ramsey, attend me.”