Lady Penelope's Christmas Charade, a Regency Romance Read Online Free
Author: Lilia Birney
Sam. "I expect to hear more soon."
Sam nodded, rising. "I'll come round when I hear something."
The door burst open, and Lady Annand Annand bustled into the room. She wore a tailored gray suit that covered her magnificent bosom, and her glorious hair was neatly tucked up under a cunning little hat. Pierce rose, nearly knocking over his chair in his haste. "L- Lady Annand ," he stammered, setting the damn thing upright and then bashing his knee on the desk as he walked around to the side. "I didn't expect to see you. Not in my office, anyway. And not for at least a week."
She nodded at Pierce and then turned to Silent Sam, who was frankly gawping at her, his mouth wide open. "How do you do? I am Lady Annand Annand ," she said politely, extending one gloved hand toward the informant's rough paw.
"Your ladyship." He bowed awkwardly. "I'm Silent Sam."
"Mr. Sam," she replied with a gentle smile, and then withdrew her hand from his grasp.
Sam turned toward Pierce, a blush creeping up his tanned cheek. "I'll be going then, Howe. I'll be sure to check in with you as soon as I hear anything."
Pierce nodded and opened the door wider. "Keep your ears to the ground," he replied.
Lady Annand sank gracefully into the chair Sam had just left. "What an odd expression that is." She began to peel her gloves off slowly, taking care not to disturb her bracelets as she did so.
He shut the door with a click, eyeing her ladyship. Even in that ridiculously severe costume, she was a sight to behold. And the way she took off her gloves, in a manner that was both innocent and sensual—what would she look like, removing other articles of clothing? Better not to think of that—that led toward other, more dangerous thoughts. He sought the safety and shelter of his desk with alacrity.
"Your ladyship? To what do I owe the pleasure?"
She glared at him, her keen green eyes blazing. "You didn't even ask for a description of my maid. Surely every detective must need to know what he's searching for."
"I have my usual informants and methods, ma'am. As you can see, I just finished meeting with one now."
"Oh really? And what information did he give you about Cicely?" She settled back in her chair with the air of one preparing for battle.
"He has not heard anything—yet," he admitted grudgingly.
"How surprising. Now tell me, sir, just what am I paying you for? This seems a shoddy business to me."
"You are paying me for the benefit of my expertise." He ground it out between clenched teeth. Really, she could be most infuriating.
"Well, you'll forgive me sir, but I see no evidence of your expertise as yet. Are you so rigid in your methods that you do nothing outside of your own experience?" She leaned forward, triumph lighting her expression. "Or do all lady's maids look the same to you?"
"If my services are inadequate," he responded, his jaw line hardening, "Then by all means, take me off the case."
"I just want to make certain I get my money's worth. After all, my great wealth often tempts others. More than one person has tried to take advantage of me. I must protect my interests."
That knocked the wind out of his sails. How many times did he, too, find himself obscuring his wealth and background so that others would not be enticed into taking advantage of him? He eyed her levelly across his desk, a newborn respect for her kindling his heart.
"I do understand how precarious your position must be, your ladyship. So let me return your good faith. I will work for nothing. You need not pay me."
She blinked, her mouth opening in surprise. "Oh no, you should receive compensation. I wasn't insisting on not paying you, sir. I just—well, I just want to be taken seriously. That's all." She opened her reticule and withdrew a sheet of foolscap. "I spent all day questioning my servants, everyone except Cook. Apparently Cicely was meeting with a young stable lad twice a week. I had no idea." She passed the sheet of foolscap across his desk.
Impressive.
Sam nodded, rising. "I'll come round when I hear something."
The door burst open, and Lady Annand Annand bustled into the room. She wore a tailored gray suit that covered her magnificent bosom, and her glorious hair was neatly tucked up under a cunning little hat. Pierce rose, nearly knocking over his chair in his haste. "L- Lady Annand ," he stammered, setting the damn thing upright and then bashing his knee on the desk as he walked around to the side. "I didn't expect to see you. Not in my office, anyway. And not for at least a week."
She nodded at Pierce and then turned to Silent Sam, who was frankly gawping at her, his mouth wide open. "How do you do? I am Lady Annand Annand ," she said politely, extending one gloved hand toward the informant's rough paw.
"Your ladyship." He bowed awkwardly. "I'm Silent Sam."
"Mr. Sam," she replied with a gentle smile, and then withdrew her hand from his grasp.
Sam turned toward Pierce, a blush creeping up his tanned cheek. "I'll be going then, Howe. I'll be sure to check in with you as soon as I hear anything."
Pierce nodded and opened the door wider. "Keep your ears to the ground," he replied.
Lady Annand sank gracefully into the chair Sam had just left. "What an odd expression that is." She began to peel her gloves off slowly, taking care not to disturb her bracelets as she did so.
He shut the door with a click, eyeing her ladyship. Even in that ridiculously severe costume, she was a sight to behold. And the way she took off her gloves, in a manner that was both innocent and sensual—what would she look like, removing other articles of clothing? Better not to think of that—that led toward other, more dangerous thoughts. He sought the safety and shelter of his desk with alacrity.
"Your ladyship? To what do I owe the pleasure?"
She glared at him, her keen green eyes blazing. "You didn't even ask for a description of my maid. Surely every detective must need to know what he's searching for."
"I have my usual informants and methods, ma'am. As you can see, I just finished meeting with one now."
"Oh really? And what information did he give you about Cicely?" She settled back in her chair with the air of one preparing for battle.
"He has not heard anything—yet," he admitted grudgingly.
"How surprising. Now tell me, sir, just what am I paying you for? This seems a shoddy business to me."
"You are paying me for the benefit of my expertise." He ground it out between clenched teeth. Really, she could be most infuriating.
"Well, you'll forgive me sir, but I see no evidence of your expertise as yet. Are you so rigid in your methods that you do nothing outside of your own experience?" She leaned forward, triumph lighting her expression. "Or do all lady's maids look the same to you?"
"If my services are inadequate," he responded, his jaw line hardening, "Then by all means, take me off the case."
"I just want to make certain I get my money's worth. After all, my great wealth often tempts others. More than one person has tried to take advantage of me. I must protect my interests."
That knocked the wind out of his sails. How many times did he, too, find himself obscuring his wealth and background so that others would not be enticed into taking advantage of him? He eyed her levelly across his desk, a newborn respect for her kindling his heart.
"I do understand how precarious your position must be, your ladyship. So let me return your good faith. I will work for nothing. You need not pay me."
She blinked, her mouth opening in surprise. "Oh no, you should receive compensation. I wasn't insisting on not paying you, sir. I just—well, I just want to be taken seriously. That's all." She opened her reticule and withdrew a sheet of foolscap. "I spent all day questioning my servants, everyone except Cook. Apparently Cicely was meeting with a young stable lad twice a week. I had no idea." She passed the sheet of foolscap across his desk.
Impressive.
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