The Mandarin of Mayfair Read Online Free Page A

Falcon while Captain Rossiter sailed off on his honeymoon had not at first been a welcome development, for Tummet was fond of his Cap'n. He'd known that those who served Mr. Falcon were well paid, but the gent was not an easy man to work for. His temperament was mercurial, he was demanding and impatient, and possessed of a wickedly sardonic tongue. Yet although Captain Rossiter had now returned to England, Tummet had developed a paternal interest in and affection for August Falcon, and he stayed on at the mansion on Great Ormond Street.
    He was discussing his employer now. "Trouble with the guv'nor," he explained, eating his currant bun and watching sparks fly up the chimney, "is Ancestors. Now
you
don't know who yer ancestors was, and I don't
care
who mine was. But me temp'ry guv, being a swell, he
do
care. Leastways, the rest of the nobs,
they
care. They're all afraid of him, but they do what they can to rub his nose in it."
    Receiving only a grunt in reply, he was silent for a few minutes, picking currants from the bun and consuming them daintily. Then he enquired, "D'you know how many times he's been out, 'Pollo? That means fought a doo-ell, mate. Well, I dunno neither. But it's a lot. And wot worries me, is that he's too reckless. A man—even a grand fighting man, which he is—a man's gotta stop and think as luck can turn on yer. It don't go on forever, mate. Cor, don't I know it! But the guv don't know it. He can't hardly wait to fight poor Lieutenant Morris. And now there's all these nasty doings with that there League o' Jewelled Men!"
    His black and extremely large companion yawned noisily, rolled over on his back and stuck his legs in the air.
    Tummet watched this process critically and advised Apollo that he lacked proper conduct. "Without Mr. August, who'd put up wiv you? You ain't no better looking than wot I am, and yer pedigree's even worse. So you'd oughta worry 'cause he takes too many chances. When we was in Cornwall…" his voice lowered, and he shook his head. "A proper ugly mess that were. Lucky any of us got out of it breathing. And then wot must he do but pick up that there nasty bag o' feathers! I tellya straight, if I'm not mere to watch him every minute—"
    "Bag of—what?'
    The feminine voice drew a shocked yelp from Tummet, and he leapt from the chair like a snapped spring. "M-Miss Gwen," he gasped, whipping the de-curranted bun behind his back.
    Unseen by him Gwendolyn Rossiter had come in to select a book, and, amused by his one-sided discussion, had not interrupted it. Since she and Katrina had become fast friends she'd been a frequent visitor at Falcon House. She was tiny and fine-boned, with a high forehead and delicate but unremarkable features. If she could not be described a beauty, she had something more lasting, for a smile was never very far from the generous mouth, nor a twinkle absent from the blue eyes. A knee damaged at birth had left her with a limp which surgery had failed to correct, and at four and twenty she was resigned to the life of a spinster, but if this caused her grief she had never been known to complain. Now, book in hand, she watched the big man curiously.
    "I—thought as you was wiv Miss Katrina," he stammered.
    "I seem to have mislaid her. So I came to find something to read."
    "I 'spect as she's waiting up in the morning room," lied Tummet, who knew perfectly well where Katrina Falcon was, but had an ax to grind.
    Apollo wagged his tail and hove himself up. He loved Gwendolyn slavishly, but instead of launching into his usual noisy and exuberant search for a ball for her to throw, he gave his attention to something behind the valet.
    Tummet surrendered the remains of the bun before his thumb went with it, and said persuasively, "There's a lovely fire up there, Miss. Proper cozy fer you and Miss Katrina to have a littel gab till the gents is done wiv their meeting. I were just—er, making sure everything's ready for 'em in here."
    "Yes," said Gwendolyn with a