The Husband Hunt by Jillian Hunter Read Free Book Online Page A

all the power everyone accuses me of having, I'd command an entire flock of birds to carry certain people to the peak of Ben Nevis and drop them from the sky on their heads."
    "I can hear every word you are muttering," he called in amusement from the windowsill.
    She stuck her head back outside. "Then it's a good thing you can't read my mind."
    "Is that the gratitude I get for taking you into the bosom of the family?"
    She knew he was baiting her, she could practically hear Thomas on her shoulder warning her to control that temper, but who could blame her? "I don't want anything to do with your bosom, my lord, opinionated bosom that it would appear to be. You aren't my family, anyway."
    "Exactly."
    "Lady Deering is."
    He leaned forward from the windowsill, a muscle ticking in that elegant jawbone. "That remains to be proven, doesn't it?"
    For a moment, her heart ceased to beat in her chest. The naked suspicion on his face stopped it in mid-stroke. "I am not a liar, my lord," she said. Which she wasn't. She had only omitted a pertinent detail here and there.
    "And I am not a fool," he said. "Furthermore, I fully intend—"
    She was spared the discovery of whatever nasty promise he meant to make by a sudden commotion below their windows. One of the estate servants came sprinting across the lawn with a fowling piece.
    "Good God," Knight said, his face darkening in disbelief, "my country estate has been turned into a circus. What in heaven's name are you doing, Howard?"
    "Shooting the owls, my lord."
    Catriona gasped in horror. "You can't allow it, my lord. Don't let him hurt the innocent wee things."
    "Who gave such an order?" Knight demanded of the young man below, ignoring her on purpose.
    "Mrs. Evans, my lord."
    His eyebrows rose. "This is not the French Revolution, Howard. One's housekeeper does not give orders to attack the local wildlife. Am I understood?"
    The footman lowered his musket, looking confused.
    Lord Rutleigh vented a sigh, glancing at Catriona from the corner of his eye. "You are only to shoot at the owls if
I
instruct you to do so, Howard. Do you understand that?"
    "I think so." The footman waited several moments. "Should I shoot them, then, my lord?"
    "Absolutely not!" Catriona could not help herself, even though she felt his lordship stiffen at her interference. "You'll bring bad luck on this household!"
    Howard sat down on the ground; the viscount turned his head and fixed Catriona with an ironic stare. "I'd say it was a bit too late for that, wouldn't you?"
    She was speechless.
    "Think of another way to handle this, Howard," he shouted, "but don't shoot the damn birds. My God, what an evening." He glanced at Catriona. "Well, now what is the matter? You have gotten your way, and we'll all be mad by morning, but at least you and Olivia won't have my head for ordering an owl shoot."
    "Thank you, my lord."
    "I'm not sure that you are welcome."
    "It was the right thing to do," she said.
    He grunted. "Was it?"
    "Indeed."
    "Let us just hope that this is the end of it," he said.
    "Well,
I
most certainly hope so," she retorted.
    He narrowed his eyes. "It would be nice to get some sleep."
    "Wouldn't it?" she muttered.
    He ducked back into his room, pulling the window shut with a decisive bang. Catriona shook herself, realizing how chill the night air had become and that the owls had flown off into the night, their message to her, if that was their purpose, delivered to one who could not understand it.
* * *
    Mrs. Evans had been unable to sleep after the incident with the owls, not even after she reassured herself that Howard and the new parlor maid had not eloped. The normally quiet house was in an uproar, everyone bumping around in his nightwear with a rather festive air and much speculation about what the symphony of raptors could signify.
    The new parlor maid, Dorcas, gave a shiver of fear and huddled closer to Howard at the kitchen table. "I wonder what it could mean, those birds hooting like that."
    "What it