Free How to Entice an Enchantress by Karen Hawkins

though I’ve a score o’ years on ye.”
    “I’ve no doubt.” MacCreedy was unlike any valet Kirk had ever known. After Wellington’s valet had been injured during the Spanish campaign and sent home, MacCreedy—the groom in charge of his grace’s horses—had been pressed into service for the exacting, crotchety commander. Under the duke’s precise direction, MacCreedy had learned the valet arts and was now a master valet. He could black boots to a high gloss, starch cravats into rigid and snowy perfection,and maintain a frosty air with the most impudent of footmen.
    Yet because he’d first been a groom and had served the duke throughout the harsh, often desperate conditions of the infamous Spanish campaign, MacCreedy also knew things other valets didn’t—like how to clean and fire any sort of pistol, and a thorough knowledge of field medicine. The latter had been of special help, for the valet knew many remedies to ease a sore and aching leg.
    Now, though, the valet wasn’t helping at all. Instead, he was holding Kirk’s dinner coat against the waistcoat. “The red color complements yer black dinner coat.” He looked hopefully at Kirk.
    Kirk was fairly certain Dahlia would laugh at the ridiculous waistcoat. He had a sudden memory of her laughter—huskier than one might expect, and very attractive. It would be nice to hear her laugh again, anything other than the dark looks she’d sent him throughout dinner last night.
    MacCreedy sighed. “Verrah weel, me lor’. If ye’ve decided, then ye’ve decided. As ye dinna ha’ anyone to impress but yerself, I’ll put awa’ the satin waistcoat and fetch ye a nice, safe wool one.” The valet pulled out a wool waistcoat and placed it on the bed beside the red one.
    Kirk looked at the two waistcoats. Beside the vibrant sheen of the red satin, the blue wool looked bland and boring. He sighed. “Damn it, give me the satin waistcoat. I’ve gone this far to make myself a fop,so why stop now? Besides, I’ll be so uncomfortable in these”—he gestured toward his breeches—“that I won’t care about the waistcoat.”
    MacCreedy’s craggy face cracked in a smile. “Och, ye’re back t’ tha’, are ye? How breeches nowadays cling?”
    “I prefer looser ones.”
    “Aye, as were the fashion twenty years ago.”
    Kirk sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, wincing as his leg protested.
    MacCreedy eyed him somberly. “I’ll order a bath fer after dinner. I’ve more ointment fer ye to rub into tha’ leg, too.”
    “It has helped.”
    “I could do more, if ye’d let me. The muscles need to be stretched, they do. Wit’ the proper work, ye could turn more easily, perhaps e’en ride. It’s e’en possible tha’ ye could leave yer cane behind and walk wit’oot a limp.”
    Kirk looked up at that. “I wouldn’t limp? At all?”
    “ ’Tis possible, if ye work hard enou’.”
    “When this is over, I shall gladly pursue your advice. But for now, I fear that in trying to obtain that goal, you’d leave me limping worse than ever.”
    “Aye, at least in the beginning.”
    “Exactly. And I’ve no wish to look even less capable in front of Miss Balfour.”
    MacCreedy shook his head. “Och, ye’ve a bad case o’ it, haven’t ye’, me lor’.”
    “A bad case?”
    “O’ love.”
    “Miss Balfour and I are very compatible. That’s far more important than love.”
    The valet shook his head. “Me lor’, I dinna think to hear such nonsense fro’ ye.”
    “It’s not nonsense. I was married before and I know love.”
    “Ah, so ye loved yer wife, but no’ Miss Balfour?”
    “I loved my wife with the foolhardiness and drama of a youth.” He grimaced. “That was fine for the age I was, but no longer. What I feel for Miss Balfour is quite different. We are comfortable, she and I.”
    “Poor Miss Balfour.”
    “Why do you say that? Just because I see her without the falseness of a fleeting passion doesn’t mean that I don’t value her. She’s