Free Secrets of a Scandalous Heiress by Theresa Romain Page B

appear during your travel,” Joss observed as he crossed the threshold, removing his hat. “It’s new, is it not? And the boots too. Hoby, I assume?” The baron had overspent his budget for this quarter before the last quarter had even begun; now he must be running through the funds intended for the summer.
    Sutcliffe extended a foot, his boot as glossy and black as the marble tile on which he stood. “Nothing else for me. They’re the best. Your boots have lost their shine, Everett; you ought to see to them. But not now—no, not now.” He caught Joss’s arm, as though he thought Joss might head off in search of a cleaning cloth that instant. “Thank God you’re here, Everett. I’ve written you so many letters and you didn’t answer any of them.”
    Joss laid his hat on a stack of trunks against one wall, then snatched it up again as a pair of footmen entered with another trunk to heft atop the tower. “I did, in fact. My replies will probably reach the hall later today. Perhaps tomorrow.”
    His voice had fallen into a soothing timbre. Sometimes this worked. Sometimes it didn’t.
    â€œI couldn’t wait for that. I got”—Sutcliffe lowered his voice to a carrying whisper—“another of those notes.”
    Ah. This explained the fit of nervous energy, excessive even for Sutcliffe.
    A wave of fatigue crashed over Joss. It seemed five hours ago rather than a few minutes that he had walked with Augusta in the bracing chill of the garden.
    â€œI am sorry to hear it,” he told his cousin—not that either of them, ever, referred to one another as such. “Did you bring it with you this time?”
    â€œYes. It’s in my pocket.” The baron patted at the breast of his red wool coat, then his pale eyes opened wide. “My pouch! Where’s my pouch?” Frantic fingers scrabbled inside his coat; then with a sigh of relief that made his whole body sag, the baron pulled forth a small leather bag no bigger than a man’s palm. Hundreds of times, Joss had seen this panicky reaction and the successive relief.
    â€œIs there a room here where we might look at the letter?” Joss said as though nothing had interrupted them.
    A twitch of Sutcliffe’s head. “Not here; too many servants. Let’s go to your house.”
    Joss shifted his feet. “We can, if you like. But it’s only a room.”
    â€œNonsense.”
    â€œNo, it really is only a room,” Joss said mildly. “Though now you’ve arrived, perhaps I can give it up and lodge with you. Did you take this whole house?”
    â€œAh. I—” The baron cut himself off, striding to the doorway and calling some instructions to the footmen. When he returned to Joss, his eyes sought out the chandelier in the center of the entry ceiling. “So many servants about! The place is crawling. No, you know I’d like nothing better than to have you stay with here. But I’m not sure how long I’ll need to remain in Bath. I’m taking the house a week at a time, so it’s easier for you if you stay where you are. Eh?”
    â€œOf course. That seems perfectly logical.” Joss hadn’t expected a different answer, yet Sutcliffe’s expression of relief still made his throat stick with dull disappointment.
    â€œLet’s be off, then,” said the older man. “How far is your lodging from here? We can take my carriage.”
    Joss shook his head. “It is still being unloaded, as you just saw. We can walk. It’ll take only a few minutes.”
    â€œBut there might be rain!”
    â€œLet us bring your umbrella.”
    Sutcliffe chewed at his lower lip. “Do you have brandy? I need something to settle my stomach.”
    To another man, Joss might say, Surely it’s a bit early. You haven’t even dined yet. To Sutcliffe, he only said, “Surely there’s a decanter somewhere in the