Free Midnight at Mallyncourt by Jennifer Wilde

unperturbed, Edward made his exit with cool dignity. His uncle let out a loud, hoarse cackle, gripping the edge of the quilt with scrawny fingers. One of the dogs peeked out, gave his master’s hand a rapid lick and then burrowed back under the covers. Once the door was closed behind his nephew, Lord Mallyn seemed to relax. He chuckled to himself, a wry amusement snapping in those dark eyes. He looked up at me, grinned and told me to sit down. I obeyed, sweeping a pile of magazines off the chair at the side of the bed. The old man studied me with his head cocked to one side, making soft clacking noises with his tongue.
    â€œLove to keep ’em jumpin’,” he confided. “Fools! He and Lyman both. They think I’m about to die—you never saw such a rubbin’ of hands, such greedy looks. I may cut ’em both off. I’ve had a fierce bout with the flu, lass—it’s hung on for weeks—and my gout bothers me somethin’ terrible, but I’m not on my deathbed. I’ve got another ten years in me, and I intend to relish every one of ’em!”
    â€œThat’s an admirable resolution,” I said.
    â€œHe tell you I was dyin’?”
    â€œHe said you were gravely ill.”
    â€œA lot he knows! I’ll be up and about in another week or so. Just you wait and see! Never sick a day in my life till this crept up on me. Those damned doctors think just because I’m seventy I’m headed for the graveyard! I’m bedridden, true, have been for months, but that last journey is a long way in the future, let me tell you!”
    He looked up sharply as the door opened and a plainly terrified footman entered carrying a silver tray on which set a glass and a bottle of red liquid. Mouth tight, eyes narrowed, Lord Mallyn tensed, crouching back against the cushions as though ready to spring. All three dogs had leaped out from under the covers and were jumping about in a frenzy, barking furiously as the footman, his face pale, approached the bed. His hands shook visibly. Glass and bottle rattled on the tray.
    â€œTime for your medicine, Lord Mallyn.”
    â€œOut! This instant!”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œAre you deaf , man!”
    The footman began to back away, trembling. Lord Mallyn threw out his hand, seized a jar from the bedside table and hurled it across the room. It barely missed the man’s head, shattering into a dozen pieces as it crashed against the wall. Dropping the tray with a loud clatter, the footman darted for the door and slammed it behind him before his employer could hurl something else. Lord Mallyn clapped his hands together, delighted with himself, exactly like a thoroughly spoiled and devilishly mischievous little boy. One of the dogs leaped up to lick his face. He let out another roar. All three dogs vanished promptly, although one feathery brown tail remained outside the covers, wagging vigorously. It was, obviously, a game all four of them enjoyed immensely.
    â€œI suppose you think that was dreadful of me?” he said slyly.
    â€œIsn’t that what I’m supposed to think?”
    â€œI have to have some fun,” he pouted. “It’s so damnably boring , being cooped up in bed all day. Nothing to do, day in, day out. The servants know what to expect, lass. They enter at their own risk. That chap—” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Did you see the look in his eyes? Thought he was a goner, he did! Damme! Quite invigorating! Clark, now—he’s my valet, stuffy chap, stiff as a poker—he won’t take a bit of it. I’m as meek as a lamb with him .”
    â€œI find that hard to believe.”
    â€œYou don’t think I can be meek? I can be angelic if I’m a-mind to be. Just don’t feel like it very often. You don’t approve of me, do you?”
    â€œNot in the least.”
    â€œWhat? You’re not afraid of me?”
    I shook my head. He looked