Liz Carlyle - [Lorimer Family & Clan Cameron 02] Read Online Free Page A

not invited to stay? Reluctant to say anything that might break the strange spell, Elliot looked anxiously about the inviting home, feeling as if he’d somehow been transported into a cozy fantasyland of warmth and laughter. From deep inside the house, a pianoforte tinkled, then burst into a strange, rousing tune which Elliot couldn’t have named if someone had held a gun to his head. A fit of feminine giggles burst forth.
    “A waltz! I want a waltz!” insisted a youthful male voice, and the laughter burst forth again. “Who shall be my partner?” The females merely tittered.
    “Fritz!” cried a laughing girl. “What’s become of Fritz? Surely he will give you a dance!”
    At last, Elliot managed to stammer, “My good woman, who—whose house is this?”
    The plump housekeeper paused, his sundry items of dripping apparel in hand, and blinked at him oddly for a long moment. “Hmm . . . why,it queers me to guess, sir!”
    “You—you do not know, either?” Elliot was feeling seriously confused. But in an exceedingly warm and pleasant way.
    The housekeeper pursed her lips as if in deep thought. “Well, I should venture to say that, technically speaking, ’tis prob’ly Mr. Michael’s house.”
    “Mr. Michaels?”
    The housekeeper shot him a sideways glance laced with amiable warning. “Aye, but it’s Miss Stone who be in charge here, and no mistake! Now, let’s get you out o’ those wet boots and into the studio before she has a fit. You know what artists are like! Though, in truth, Miss Stone’s really as much an angel as her name implies.”
    “Stone?” asked Elliot, a quizzical smile beginning to tug at his lips. The name certainly did not sound celestial.
    The housekeeper’s brow furrowed. “Oh, no! No, indeed! Evangeline! But, no . . . you probably came looking for someone else entirely, did ye not?” Her eyes narrowed shrewdly even as she beamed at him.
    Elliot nodded, trying to hide his disappointment at being found out. “Yes, I did. I was wondering when you might realize it.”
    The housekeeper nodded sagely. “Aye, happens here often enough. Like as not, you expected to find some stuffy gentleman named Edmund or Edgar van Artevalde, did ye not? Well, you’re in for a pleasant surprise, indeed.”
    Elliot was on the verge of admitting that he’d had nothing but a series of pleasant surprises these last two minutes and that he hadn’t a clue as to who Mr. van Artevalde might be, but the housekeeper was motioning impatiently for his boots again. “Er—no, ma’am,” Elliot averred. “I daresay I ought to keep my boots—”
    “Well, suit yourself, I always say!” interposed the woman with a shrug. “But you’ll catch your death, mark my word. And we stand on no ceremony here at Chatham Lodge, so you may as well have ’em off.”
    Chatham Lodge
. How pretty it sounded, though it meant nothing at all to him. Elliot was struck with the fleeting impression that if he should turn and walk back out the front door into the mist, he might return here tomorrow to find that Chatham Lodge had never existed. It seemed that fanciful to him.
    Almost immediately, a wide door in the rear of the hall burst open, and another housemaid darted out. A small black dog shot from between her legs, pink tongue dangling, and headed undoubtedly toward the lively crowd. “Mrs. Penworthy!” called the maid, clearly oblivious to the skittering animal, “Miss Stone says to fetch the London gent straightaways to the studio. She says as how the good light is fair to disappearin’ on account of the rain, and she’s ter’ble anxious to see him.”
    Elliot decided that he was as terrible anxious to see the mysterious Miss Stone as she was to see him.
    “Oh, oh—yes, indeed,” murmured Mrs. Penworthy, and, with one last resigned glance at Elliot’s boots, she darted down the hall with impressive haste, motioning for Elliot to follow.
    Well ,
what the hell!
As the Iron Duke always said, “In for a penny, in