Wallflowers Don't Wilt by Raven McAllen Read Free Book Online Page A

than within their own ranks. He had hoped, however, a few days’ grace would be granted. Instead it seemed their mamas had been unable to contain themselves.
    Ah, well, time to move on . Leaving the club, he made his way home, where his majordomo awaited him.
    “My Lord. There are several persons awaiting you in the study regarding various positions they seem to think were open. I explained we had none available, but as they all had introductions from you, I escorted them there and arranged refreshments while you were out.”
    And, his tone intimated, hid the silver. Ivo smiled. Piercy was very much of the old school. Loyal, true, but easily able to show his master his displeasure if he felt the situation deemed it so. As he thought it did so then.
    “Thank you, Piercy.” His encounter with the tattle-monger at the club had delayed him longer than he would have wished. “Have I kept them waiting long?”
    “A matter of minutes, Your Grace.”
    Thank goodness. With luck, the problems of staffing for Arabella and Serena would be a thing of the past. He entered the room with a smile on his face, and left it a couple of hours later still smiling.
    By seven o’clock he was a bundle of nerves. He who was reported to have nerves of steel, he who had been all around the world, he who had found himself in more than one unsavory situation, was nervous because of two girls and their intended actions. Perhaps this told him more than anything where his feelings lay.
    At precisely seven minutes to the hour, he checked his appearance one last time. Snowy white cravat intricately tied in his own knot, perfectly fitted jacket in a dark, midnight blue, tight, buff pantaloons molded to him like a second skin. His boots shone as only those blackened by his valet’s special mixture could. Yes, he was ready.
    “No need to wait up tonight, Debson. I mean that. Do not incur my displeasure.”
    Debson inclined his head. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
    Ivo shook his head. “Do not use that high tone with me. You know I pay no heed to it. Now, I must go. Where is my parcel? Ah.” He spied it where he had left it and retrieved it as he passed on his way to the door. “Goodnight, Debson.”
    He knew to the minute how long it would take to descend his steps, walk to the end of the road, and turn to proceed along the next street to the house that backed on to his own. Tomorrow, he decided, with luck he would create a shortcut through the mews to adjoin their homes. For now, he bounded up the steps and rang the bell.
    It was opened by a portly man of perhaps middle years, his livery immaculate.
    “Welcome, Your Grace.” He held the door open and bowed. “The Ladies await you in the drawing room. May I add, Your Grace, my thanks for securing my and Mrs. Lawson’s positions in this household? Much preferable to our previous situations where our considerable talents were somewhat underutilized.” His eyes twinkled. Ivo laughed. His previous situation had been under butler to Ivo himself at his little-used family seat, with Mrs. Lawson as the rarely bothered housekeeper.
    “And Mrs. Lawson?”
    “In her element, Your Grace. Supervising the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to the dinner Ladies Saltsey and Dunsmuir have prepared. I believe she has a niece in mind as cook, Your Grace, if you are agreeable?”
    “I trust Mrs. Lawson’s judgment, Lawson. Ask her to arrange a meet with the ladies.”
    “Thank you, Your Grace.” Lawson bowed. “May I impart to you that there will be no more visitors tonight. At any cost.”
    He nodded, understanding they would not be disturbed, and allowed Lawson to announce him at the entrance to the drawing room. Smothering a smile, he saw how careful Lawson was not to enter. Well taught by Ivo himself, there would never be any fear of embarrassing situations. He walked past Lawson, hearing the door close, and stopped dead at the tableaux in front of him.
    In his time he had seen many beautiful sights.