The Mandarin of Mayfair Read Online Free

of the riot.
    He was less complacent the following morning when he slipped into the kitchen of the palatial Falcon House on Great Ormond Street. He had gone to some pains to avoid the housekeeper, a majestic middle-aged lady who might easily pass for a dowager duchess, but she emerged from the pantry to confront him and surveyed his split lip with disapproval.
    "Brawling again," she observed, folding her arms across her splendid bosom. "Did you chance to meet some unfortunate acquaintance who questioned your position in this household?"
    He tried a grin and said confidingly, "Er—not exzack, Mrs. Vanechurch. Jest a littel—er, difference of 'pinion, as y'might say."
    "I had wondered why you did not appear in the Hall for breakfast," she said, blocking his attempt to escape. "It came to my ears that there was a riot in the Rose and Crown last evening. But I feel sure you would not have been involved, since you know Mr. August disapproves of that common ale house."
    "It ain't common," he protested indignantly. "A very respectable tavern, and—"
    "So you
were
involved!" She sniffed. "Another vulgar brawl. Whatever poor Mr. August will say when he sees you, I dread to think."
    "Well he did see me. And he didn't flay-a-bird, neither!"
    In point of fact August Falcon had looked at him steadily when he'd carried in his breakfast tray. One flaring black brow had lifted, managing to convey considerably more than a word, but he had made no comment.
    The housekeeper shuddered. "One might think, Mr. Tummet, that you would try to remember that you are now on the staff of a member of the Quality, and try not to let your master down by brawling and using cant terms." She spoiled this fine scold by adding, " 'Flay-a-bird'—that means 'say a word,' right?"
    "S'right, ducks." He saw her look of outrage and went on desperately, "I do me best, Mrs. V. But y'can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, as they say. Not in a few months, anyways. And when that high-nosed cove what works for Lord Sommers starts—"
    "Mr. Belew? Hmm." Her lips pursed. "I know his wife. If he's cut from the same cloth, he likely had nothing good to say of Mr. August."
    "Right, mate. But he had plenty bad to say. I didn't mind's'much about the guv's doo-ells, 'cause I don't like 'em neither. Gents wanta fight they'd oughta do it wiv their fists, not stick swords in each other's gizzards, it—"
    "If ever I heard of such a thing," she exclaimed, scandalized. "A gentleman defends his name as demanded by the Code of Honour! Fists, indeed! If that was all Mr. Belew had to say—"
    "Well, it wasn't, marm. But I took it like a lamb till he comes the ugly abaht the Guv and Miss Katrina being half-breeds. And that I couldn't let go by."
    "Most certainly not!" She drew herself up to her full height, her eyes flashing wrath. "Be so kind as to advise me what steps you took. I trust you levelled the bounder!"
    When Tummet was able to restore his sagging jaw to its normal position, he advised her in some detail. She beamed upon him, offered him a currant bun, and they parted with mutual expressions of admiration.
    London's hopes that there would be a break in the gloomy weather had been doomed to disappointment, and today the skies were leaden once more. There was no rain, but a bitter wind sent the temperature plummeting and Mr. Tummet took his chilblains in search of warmth. There was a splendid fire burning in the book room, and having settled himself into a comfortable chair and stretched his large feet to the blaze, he sighed contentedly. Just a few minutes of peace and quiet wouldn't hurt no one. This was the life! During the course of a chequered career he had followed the callings of pickpocket, ostler, free-trader, pugilist, lackey, bailiff, and valet. He had originally been elevated to the latter and most unlikely position by Captain Gideon Rossiter upon that young soldier's return from the War of the Austrian Succession. To have been "loaned" to the dashing August