Much Ado About Rogues
““That’s probably too obvious, Jack. We can’t insult him,” she said, reading what he’d just written.
“I’d like to do more than insult him, if admitting to that doesn’t break our recent truce,” Jack said. But then he crumpled the paper and tossed it in the general direction of his first several efforts.
They’d been closeted together in the study for over two hours, working out the puzzle of how they would handle the next few days. And they hadn’t gotten much done past finally agreeing to allow Wadsworth into their plans. Jack had already seen the man in action, and he had no worries there; the butler was more than competent. And, happily, more than willing. He’d pointed out that he hadn’t had any excitement since Master Puck last came to town, unless one was to count the day a bat made its way down from the attics and he had somehow ended up beating it to death with a bust of Sophocles, which was the closest thing to hand and now had a decidedly shorter nose than formerly.
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