Free Sybille's Lord by Raven McAllan

on his heel and marched off, his back
ramrod straight and temper showing in every step.
    “What
have we done?” Sybille almost cried. “He will challenge us, I know it. We’re
ruined.”
    Thom
put one hand over hers. Her skin was clammy. “Sybille, it has to be done, and you are not ruined, far from it. I have a plan. We’ll talk about it tonight. If we can
speak alone with your parents.”
      Sybille took a deep breath. “Forgive me for
being such a pathetic watering pot. I hate being so weak-willed and wishy-washy.”
    “It’s
the brandy.”
    “It
is not the brandy,” she said and then grinned. “Not now. It's him. Bankfoot. He
makes my skin crawl. Do you really have a plan? One that will work?”
    “It’ll
work. Whether you’ll like it, or agree, remains to be seen.”
    “Why
am I apprehensive?”
    Thom
shrugged. Sybille’s spine itched.
    ****
    That
niggly itch still attacked her spine several hours later as she waited in the
drawing room for the rest of the family to join her. However, Sybille decided
to be philosophical. They couldn’t actually force her to do something she’d
hate, and she was certain they wouldn’t. Even though Mijo was a superb
manipulator, she would never expect any of her children to do anything they truly
felt was repugnant. She might nudge, suggest and do everything to show the
benefits of what was offered, so in the end the recipient of her advice found
themselves doing whatever it was they hadn’t expected to. However she accepted
when her desire didn’t mesh with another person’s and would retire with
good-ish grace.
    The
problem here, Sybille knew, was within herself.
    Over
the last few weeks, Sybille had taken a long hard look at herself and her
attitude and she hadn’t entirely been happy with what she saw. She’d behaved
like a pathetic child at times. Oh, she knew she couldn’t keep her worry about
Bankfoot at bay, and had no option but to own up and accept help to get out of
the predicament she’d found herself in, but she could also grow up and
acknowledge what she wanted.
    Thom.
    But
not yet, not until…
    “My
Lord Jeavons, My Lady.” Stubbs, the longest serving member of their household,
broke into her reverie as he intoned the words. He spoiled his serious demeanor
by winking. Not what you’d expect of an old and valued retainer who was a
stickler for etiquette and punctiliousness. However it was hard for him to see
Sybille or Marielle as adults. He was closer to the twins than any other member
of the family. As a young footman, he’d given them pony rides on his back,
taught them how to treat servants correctly, kept quiet when they crept out to
go to a masked ball—although he’d accompanied them—and generally watched their
backs. He was Sybille thought, their champion. Now married to Maybelle, her
personal maid, she doubted there were many secrets he or Maybelle were not privy
to, especially hers.
    “Ah,
perhaps you could let his lordship know that Maybelle arranged for a certain
garment to be cleaned and returned to his household? So kind of him to lend it
to you. Oh and the bottle was discarded.” Stubbs stood straight-faced, and
rubbed the side of his nose.
    Sybille
sighed and smiled. “Thank you.”
    “My
pleasure.” Stubbs stood to one side as Thom entered the room, took Sybille’s
hand and bowed over it. With a knowing look toward Sybille, Stubbs then nodded
briefly, bowed and retreated smartly.
    Thom
glanced at the closing door without releasing her hand. “Was it something I
said, did, or does he have an aversion to my tailoring?”
    Sybille
giggled. Thom was now stroking her palm with one finger and the smooth sweep
over her skin heated it rather nicely. It was difficult to formulate her
thoughts let alone speak them. How could such a simple thing cause so much
turmoil in her?
    “Ah,
that is Stubbs being subtle and giving us a few moments alone before the hordes
enter. Plus letting you know his wife found your