Deceiving The Duke (Scandals and Spies Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

once. Maybe I stuffed one of the prisms in with the LEGs.”
    “You’re a leg.”
    With a wry look at the bird, who was now grooming his wing, she informed him, “No, my dear. I have legs.”
    He twisted his head to study her with one golden eye. “I have legs.” As if to demonstrate, he lifted one of them and curled his claws into his belly.
    “Indeed, you do.”
    When she unwrapped the parcel, he set down both his legs and spread his wings. She whisked the twine into the embroidered reticule hanging from her wrist, out of sight.
    “Oh, no. You stay over there.”
    He froze with his wings half-spread and strained his neck, as if to see where she’d put the string. “What’s over there?”
    “You are,” she told him with a smirk.
    The witticism was lost on him.
    The paper crinkled as she opened it, speaking to her pet at the same time. “You can’t have the twine, my dear. You might swallow it and choke. Even if you don’t, it will feel exceedingly odd coming out your other end.”
    Pickle squawked, indignant. “How do you know?”
    “I’m extrapolating, based on the assumption that you won’t be able to digest it properly.” She shook her head. Sometimes, he sounded as intelligent as a human.
    “Meg ate the cackling cheat!”
    Other times, he said things like that. Though Phil would be interested to know which of Meg’s brothers had taught Pickle that particular phrase.
    A huff sounded at the doorway. When Phil turned her head, her hands still on the parcel, she found Meg glaring at the parrot. Meagan O’Neill, one of the many O’Neills employed by the St. Gobain family, had been with the family ever since they had arrived in London. Granted, then she had been far too young to work and had been Jared’s playmate instead, as they were closer in age. The moment she’d grown old enough to do steady work, she’d latched onto Phil. When Phil had made her bows as a marriageable young woman, she had begged Meg to take up the position of her lady’s maid despite the fact that she was four years older than Meg. She’d never regretted the decision. Whether she needed a hairdresser or a confidante, Meg was always close at hand.
    After brushing her pale brown hair away from her heavily-freckled cheek, Meg jabbed her finger at the bird. The other hand scrunched around a pair of silk, white gloves. “If I cared to eat you, I’d take you down to mam first and have her roast you. Then you wouldn’t be singing no song, I’d say.”
    Pickle whistled, innocent-looking. When he unfolded his wings, looking like he might take flight, Meg flinched and shuffled from the doorway into the corner, beside the work table. Pickle cackled.
    “You did no one any favors when you brought that blighted bird home with you.” Meg’s voice was weak, her freckles stark against her milk-pale skin.
    Phil shrugged. Meg constantly lobbied for her to get rid of the parrot, but Pickle amused her. And despite his occasional threats, he never bit or landed on Meg. Though the latter might be due to the fact that whenever he took to the air, Meg hid beneath the nearest table. She was only brave from across the room.
    As Phil lifted the goggles from the paper, she didn’t find a prism beneath. She set the one in her hand down on the rough wooden work table. “Have you seen another bit of glass like this? I’m sure I put it in my jacket when I left the Society meeting the other night.”
    Sidling closer, Meg didn’t take her eyes off the parrot. Even her irises were pale, to match the rest of her. A light, icy blue, much darker than Phil’s storm-cloud-blue eyes. Meg licked her lips before she answered the inquiry.
    “You only had the one in there. I set it on your writing desk when I cleaned the tailcoat.”
    Phil sighed. “That’s where I found this one. Maybe I took it out and put it on the work table for some reason?”
    Muttering under her breath, she systematically searched the table from end to end. Meg ventured out of the