My Lady Mischief Read Online Free

be out of the picture.
    *
    "I promise you, Hobbs, when we left London I had no idea I'd need your services." Hart stood before the dresser in his room at Steyne Hall while his offended valet fluttered about, preparing for the evening ahead. From the corner of his eye, Hart watched to see if his flattery had any effect. "Lord Steyne informed me we would be dressing for dinner, and I can never accomplish a creditable appearance without your assistance. I'm relieved you insisted upon accompanying Mack and me. Though why don't you insist upon attending Mack?"
    "He's an American, my lord," commented the valet in a dry voice. "Quite able to take care of himself."
    Hart wondered why the sentiment had never occurred to him. An American could dress himself, yet a marquess could not. An interesting opinion but not one that he shared. "Well, I'm pleased you're here."
    Hobbs snorted into a handkerchief. "No use trying to turn me up sweet, your highness. Sneaking off that way, without even a clean shirt in your kit."
    It was clear the Scot would not easily be appeased. Hart suppressed a sigh. "At least we've reached the point where you are again speaking to me. What can I do to regain your good graces?"
    The valet responded by turning his back. Hart had spoken too soon.
    Hart tossed down his third neckcloth, then gingerly inspected the crisply starched one his valet now condescended to offer. Though Hobbs' relationship with him was not the typical one shared between master and servant, he believed matters had gone far enough. It was time to put an end to the valet's sulks.
    "At least the earl appears interested in Mack's seed drill improvements." He cringed as his servant let out a reverberating sneeze, then offered him a fresh handkerchief.
    Hobbs wiped his nose in offended silence. Since Hart's childhood, the valet had been fanatically loyal and was privy to his innermost plans. How could Hart be angry over such devotion to duty and to himself?
    "When my father requested I visit Steyne about the land he hopes to acquire, he mentioned the earl might be interested in Mack's new process." He felt certain this would lure the valet back to speech, especially since Hobbs considered Mack an influence for the better, even if he was an American.
    Hobbs merely grunted.
    Since that hadn't worked, he'd have to attempt another method. In an intentionally bored voice, he said, "Yet, now I have to play the pretty when all I'd really like is more time trading barbs with that feisty parlormaid. Have you discovered anything more about her?" Surely this would draw him out.
    Hobbs swiped at his nose and replied without recollecting that he was not on speaking terms with his master. "Must be new in the household, my lord. No one seems to know the first thing about the chit. May be something rummish about her since the servants all mum up when I mention her." The valet suddenly clamped his mouth shut and resumed his affronted attitude.
    He lofted a blue silk dress coat, then eased it on his master as quickly as its snug fit would allow. This tedious chore completed, Hobbs pulled the long lace wrist-ruffles into place from beneath the coat sleeves.
    While giving himself up to the valet's ministrations, Hart's mind began to wander back onto the subject of the parlormaid. She was a prime article, quite unlike the maids who served in his own household. The moment she'd spent in his arms had been a pleasurable experience and he looked forward to repeating it. Trifling with parlormaids was not in his usual style, but he found himself unable to get the young woman out of his mind.
    He looked sidelong at Hobbs, who had yet to come out of his snit. What would it take to make the man come around? Hart was generally on friendly terms with his servants and truly regretted the impulse that had led him to try to elude Hobbs when he left town. The man had been suffering a tremendous head cold. What else could Hart have done?
    "It would be comforting to experience a little