The Countess by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online

strand of hair on his shining head, a fact easily ascertained since he was very short. When he bowed, the top of his head was right under my nose.
    â€œGood day, Pratt,” Lawrence said. “Your establishment looks prosperous.”
    â€œAye, my lord,” Pratt said, wiping his hands on his very clean apron. “I took the advice of yer business feller and am making meself a tidy profit.”
    Lawrence just nodded. “I trust our rooms are ready? Her ladyship,” he added, smiling at me, “is quite fatigued.”
    I wondered why it was always ladies who were fatigued and never gentlemen.
    â€œYes, indeed, my lord, if yer lordship and ladyship will jest come with me, I will show ye to yer private parlor.”
    â€œLet me get Miss Crislock and George settled,” I said. “Then I will join you.”
    â€œSurely Miss Crislock can settle herself. She and Flynt can see to each other. Indeed, Flynt can see to George’s needs. I don’t wish you to trouble yourself now that you are a married woman.”
    I didn’t particularly like Lawrence’s valet, Flynt. He looked too much and said too little. “Miss Crislock is a nervous sort, my lord, unused to change or strange places. Also she was ill. I wish to make sure that she is feeling all right.”
    â€œThe Gray Goose ain’t at all strange,” I heard Mr.Pratt say under his breath. “It’s common, but not strange.”
    â€œIndeed, Mr. Pratt,” I said. “Even though I am now a married lady, I don’t feel that it’s any particular trouble. I will join you shortly, Lawrence.” Before he could say anything else I didn’t agree with, I was back outside. Flynt, as was his wont, just stood there, silent, watching, doing not a single thing that was helpful. I waited as the coachman assisted her to alight from the carriage. As for George, no sooner had Miss Crislock’s feet touched the ground than he leapt into my arms, his tail wagging faster than a windmill in a high wind. I fastened his collar and let him down to the ground. “I’ll be back, Milly. Just ask Mr. Pratt to see you to your room.” I just looked at Flynt, who was studying his thumbnail, then laughed when George leapt up a good three feet to grab the stout lead out of my hand. “Oh, no you don’t, George. You just trot on ahead. I’m right here.”
    And so George and I walked and ran and leapt in the dying sunlight in the lovely countryside. He had more energy than I did. It was a good hour before he was content to go to Miss Crislock and settle down to his dinner and to bed.
    The Gray Goose parlor was a cozy, wood-paneled room, with a brightly burning fire, smells of roast beef, and a thin veil of smoke that filled the air. I tossed my muff and pelisse on a chair, walked over to the bright fire, and fanned my hands toward the heat. Lawrence, who had been reading a newspaper, now gave orders to Pratt for our supper. When Pratt had bowed himself out, Lawrence joined me by the fire.
    â€œFlynt should have walked George,” he said. “It isn’t the duty of a married lady.”
    Was there a list of specific duties a married lady was and wasn’t to perform? I sincerely prayed that there wasn’t. If there was, I would probably shortly find myself in deep trouble. I said, “Flynt doesn’t know George. Moreover, Flynt doesn’t wish to do anything for anyone who isn’t you, namely, his master. What’s more, George doesn’t like him. He missed me and danced around me until he keeled over he was finally so tired.”
    I thought my husband would say something more, but he didn’t.
    When Pratt came again into the parlor, he was followed by a large bosomy girl with a lovely wide smile, whose name, we were informed, was Betty.
    Lawrence turned to me. “Would half an hour suit you, Andrea, er, Andy, before we dine?”
    â€œSuit me for what? Oh, but I