“A sleepy footman eased from his shoulders a rustic, moth-eaten coat drenched from the downpour outside. "Sorry to intrude at this ungodly hour." Charles Mornington, lord of no land, but of much wealth, looked at William and removed his off-kilter nightcap, scratched his head and tightened the belt of his dressing gown. "I can only assume that the most dire of circumstances has led you to my remote corner of the world." "You have no idea." "The last time you were here you swore never to set foot... in this part of the country again," Mornington said. "Necessity is the mother of—let's see—a very bad memory, shall we say?" Will raked a hand through his wet hair and smiled. "Dare I guess this impromptu visit involves the fairer of the sexes?" William arched a brow. "I'm not overly fond of self-incrimination, my dear friend." Mornington looked over William's comical mixed bag of peasant clothes and turned to the footman. "Jones, be so good as to rouse Mrs. Jenkins. We'll need the blue rooms prepared and"— he glanced at William again and grinned—"one of my nightshirts and dressing gowns as it appears my good friend has arrived ill equipped." The footman rubbed the sleep from his eyes and walked, heavy-footed, down the long hallway to the rear stairs.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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