It Started with a Scandal by Julie Anne Long Read Free Book Online Page B

So they weren’t entirely untrained. They even took a little pride in their skills. They possessed a bit of vanity. Perhaps they even yearned to be truly useful. She felt a pang of sympathy. The two of them were a bit like the bruised apples left over on a costermonger’s cart, the ones you bought if that’s all you could afford. The ones you could make into . . .
    “Apple tarts!” she said suddenly.
    She knew how to make a brilliant apple tart. Calculated to enslave any man. And there were just enough ingredients to make a dozen of them before she did her shopping.
    Ramsey looked injured. “No need to be insult-in’, Mrs. Fountain.”
    “Not you. I was just . . . never mind. Would you be so kind as to tell me whether either of you possesses a spine? It’s difficult to tell, you see, when you slump so. I can see you both have fine sets of shoulders, so show a little pride and throw them back, please.”
    Imagine that. Lord Lavay’s irritability was contagious.
    And effective. Possibly both startled and flattered by this command issued with such out-of-context irritation by their new commander, they did what they were told.
    She squinted, imagining them in livery. If Lavay wanted gracious living, he couldn’t have this misbegotten pair attending his suppers or admitting his guests, or, as he so charmingly put it, skulking about. And imagining how happy they would be in new livery gave her a little glow.
    “And where have you been just now?” she demanded.
    “The lordship has visitors. We’ve been to let them in.”
    She shot to her feet. “Who?” she squeaked. “I didn’t hear a bell!”
    “The Earl and Countess of Ardmay.” They each gave a one-shouldered shrug.
    And just then her servant’s bell began to leap and jingle.
    And for a moment her gut clutched as she remembered again that she was a servant now, who could be summoned by a bell.
    Everyone froze, and their heads swiveled toward her.
    There was a silence.
    “They usually drink Darjeeling tea, Mrs. Fountain,” Kitty whispered pityingly.
    As if she knew Elise was done for, and already missed her.
    P HIL IPE HAD RECEIVED his guests, the Earl and Countess of Admay, in one of the drawing rooms, which, magically, featured a roaring, leaping fire.
    He stared at it, nonplussed, unwilling to be seduced by hope. It might be an arbitrary fire. They did spring up from time to time in the house. Perhaps it was boring to do nothing at all, even for servants.
    He turned to his guests, who were already relaxing on his settee as if they’d done it a dozen times before, which they had.
    “If you turn one more expression of pity on me, I shall have you ejected, Lady Ardmay.”
    Lady Ardmay was the former Violet Redmond. He only called Violet “Lady Ardmay” when he was irritable, which was nearly always these days.
    “By whom? One of those unpromising footmen who opened the door? Honestly, Philipe, they look as though they committed a crime in St. Giles and are merely using your house to hide from the law. I do wish you’d come to stay with us so we could look after you.”
    With the besotted earl and Violet and their new baby daughter, Ruby?
    He’d almost rather be attacked by six cutthroats again.
    Philippe had first met the Earl of Ardmay when the earl had simply been Captain Asher Flint and the two of them had served together on Flint’s ship, the Fortuna.
    “I shall ring for tea if you like,” he said. “Would you care to wager whether anyone appears?”
    “Oh, of course. I’d forgotten you’d hired a new housekeeper. The one our dear Mrs. Winthrop helped you engage.”
    Philippe rang the bell vehemently.
    “Doubtless Mrs. Fountain is in her quarters packing her trunks in preparation to flee,” Lavay said idly.
    “And it isn’t pity , Philippe. It’s concern,” Violet said, trying to steer back to the topic.
    “Pah,” he shrugged with one shoulder. “One and the same, Countess. I thrive, as you can see.”
    “Of course,” Violet