Page 68 of The Viscount Who Vexed Me

Donovan, bless him, understood the obstacles Lila faced with this family. He unfurled himself from the armchair, then sauntered over to Lila with a smile. He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles with a twinkle in his eye. He was, Lila thought, as gorgeous as he was the first day she’d ever laid eyes on him all those years ago. She wondered if he was still involved with the “valet,” or if he’d taken a new lover.

“Subtlety does not live in this house, madam,” he said. “Everything must be spelled out in the most basic of terms. Leave that to me.” He dropped her hand and turned. “Ladies, you will come with me.”

“Why? Where are we going?” Birdie demanded.

“Lady Marley has requested your presence,” Donovan said.

“Shehas?” Blythe asked disbelievingly.

“She will,” Donovan said confidently.

“Really?” Beck asked. “She seemed rather annoyed the last time.”

“She wasquiteannoyed last time,” Donovan agreed. “But her husband was delighted.”

“Marley does love children,” Blythe mused.

“I am not a child,” Tilly reminded them.

“Yes, darling, you have just turned twenty years. You remind us frequently,” Beck said. “A grand idea, Donovan. Come along, my loves, accompany your uncle Donovan to visit Marley. Birdie, you are not to slip off to see the horses this time, do you understand? We had the whole of London in search of you.”

“I won’t,” Birdie promised breezily as she walked to the door.

The rest of them followed along, Tilly with a heavy sigh, Maren with her book clutched to her chest, Maisie muttering under her breath, and Meg carrying one of the dogs, the other one trotting after her.

Donovan bowed to Lila, then followed the girls like the grand goose of the flock.

That left Blythe and the Pomeranian. Lila looked at Beck. He looked at his wife. “Darling?”

“What?”

“You were right—Lila would like a private audience.”

“But does that mean me?” Blythe asked, surprised. “She knows I won’t say a word. You do, don’t you, Lila?”

Beck shook his head. Blythe clucked her tongue at him and hoisted herself up, dumping the dog from her lap. “I don’t know why I must always be excluded,” she said to him on her way out.

“Don’t mind her,” Beck said after his wife had gone. He fell onto his back on the settee, his feet propped on the arm, and folded his arms behind his head to form a pillow. “Do you have any idea how often I am alone? I’ll tell you—never. There is a female underfoot at all times. If she’s not complaining, she’s eating all the food I’ve paid for. It’s exhausting, living with them all.”

“I can well imagine,” Lila drawled. She sat in the chair Donovan had vacated.

“All right, Lila, you have me on tenterhooks. What information are you looking for now?”

“I need to know more about Miss Woodchurch.”

“Why? What’s she done?”

Lila laughed. “She hasn’t done anything. I want to know where she comes from, her family, that sort of thing.”

Beck frowned. He propped himself up on one elbow.“Why?”

“I remember you said something about her when you were advocating for her to Lord Abbott.”

“Did I?” He thought about it. “I said she needed the position.”

“Yes, that’s it. Why would a young woman from a prosperous family need an occupation?”

He fell back onto the settee again. “Because her father is a miserly, unpleasant bastard, that’s why. Can you imagine having a daughter as bright and cheerful andindustriousas Hattie Woodchurch and seeing nothing more than livestock?”