Hall of Infamy Read Online Free Page A

Alicia’s eyes. Something like this was what she had been afraid of.
    â€˜Master Jamie, sir, asked me to fetch him a brandy.’
    Lord Alex gave a distracted grunt before waving his cigar towards the decanters. ‘Well, get on with it, girl, and be sure to pour the lad a decent measure.’
    Betsy hurried over to the cabinet that held the glasses and took a balloon over to the side table that supported the flasks of drink.
    â€˜By God, that’s it. Good! Yes! Oh, yes!’ Lord Alex groaned again.
    Betsy tried to ignore the slurping noises.
    Pffft !
    Her hand trembled at the sound of the whip cutting through the air and into Lucy’s bottom but she managed not to spill any brandy.
    â€˜Damn! The little bitch nearly nipped me,’ Lord Alex barked.
    â€˜Tsk, tsk, she must be flogged.’
    â€˜Yes, dear, of course – but let’s just allow the baggage to finish… Yes, that’s it!’
    Betsy escaped while their attention was still on Lucy. Once out of the drawing room, she leant back against the wall and gave a big sigh of relief. The nursery-maid knew, from bitter experience, that had Lord Alex and Lady Alicia delayed her, then Master Jamie would have blamed her rather than the culprits, and would have punished her accordingly. Fairness never seemed to interfere with flogging matters at Hope Hall.
    â€˜What are you doing, girl, lounging around chewing cud like a heifer?’
    Betsy could not quite prevent a startled squeak escaping. Mrs Pritchard had emerged, quite silently, from a doorway opposite.
    â€˜Oh, sorry, Mrs Pritchard, I was sent, I was just—’
    â€˜Just idling is what you were doing, girl! You are a lazy good-for-nothing. Get on with your duties instantly.’
    Betsy turned and trotted down the corridor as quickly as she could, but it was not fast enough. Mrs Pritchard’s harsh voice called after her. ‘Oh, and put two black marks against your name in the big book. You should know by now what happens to idle trollops at Hope Hall.’
    Betsy climbed the east wing stairway disconsolately. Twenty minutes earlier she had been hoping that she might get to bed unscathed. Now she had Master Jamie’s cane to look forward to, and the black marks would mean at least two dozen with the birch, come Sunday. She had not liked the way Lady Alicia had looked at her, either. Like most maids at the hall, Betsy felt the best way to be looked at by the imperious Lady Alicia was, generally, not at all.
    â€˜You took your time!’
    Betsy knew better than to protest. ‘Sorry, sir,’ she said anxiously, but he smiled indulgently as she handed him the glass.
    â€˜Oh, that’s all right, Betsy,’ he said, taking a sip, ‘I am in a good mood tonight. Take off your dress. I’m going to thrash you – but don’t worry, I’m not cross with you.’ He grinned and put the brandy glass down on the low table beside him, picking up and flexing the kooboo cane in its stead. ‘No, I’m going to flog you now strictly for my pleasure.’
    Thank you, Master Jamie, that makes all the difference. Betsy could not quite suppress the flash of sarcasm as she pulled off her grey nursery uniform. She did not dare articulate the thought, but her cheeks went a little pink and she felt suddenly afraid that he might read her mind.
    â€˜That’s better. Now I can see you. Should we get you a “tutu” like the chambermaids, instead of that grey sack?’
    Betsy said nothing. Lucy and Kitty spent a good deal of their lives in abbreviated mockeries of proper maids’ uniforms. The very idea of spending her days dressed like that filled Betsy with horror. Her own outfit was perfectly respectable, if a little dull. Still, she knew her opinion was not really being sought.
    â€˜Hm.’ Jamie sipped his brandy thoughtfully, keeping the cane in his other hand. He used it to tap a suspender clip where it clasped the top of