Free Rake's Progress by MC Beaton Page B

a Spasm as soon as she was safely inside the house.
    â€˜It offends my sensibilities to have to set foot inside this house, my lord. I take leave to tell you, you have brought shame on Mayfair with your antics. I take further leave to tell you—’
    Lord Guy raised a hand.
    â€˜Enough!’ he said. ‘Joseph, come here! What exactly was said by you or this other footman?’
    â€˜It wasn’t me, honest, my lord. It was Luke,’ said Joseph, shuffling forward and standing with his head bowed.
    â€˜Raise your head, man, when you address me!’
    Joseph raised his head. There was the glint of tears in his eyes and his lip was trembling.
    â€˜I ask you again, what did this fellow, Luke, say?’
    â€˜I give . . . gave a silk rose to Miss Hunt, as a present, like,’ said Joseph miserably. ‘She said nothink, just raised her eyebrows and turned her back. Luke, he . . . he . . .’
    â€˜Come on. Come on. Out with it!’
    â€˜He said, “I bets you w-wears d-dirty d-drawers,”’ said Joseph, beginning to sob.
    Lord Guy took out his quizzing glass, polished it, raised it to one eye and thoughtfully studied the iron-faced Miss Hunt.
    â€˜And do you?’ he asked mildly.
    â€˜My lord?’ said Miss Hunt.
    â€˜Do you wear dirty drawers?’
    Rainbird turned quickly away to hide a smile. Joseph’s mouth dropped open.
    Lady Debenham began to make strange puffing noises, like one of the new steam engines. Then, out of all the chugging and puffing, her voice suddenly screamed, ‘How dare you?’
    â€˜If you walk into my house and insult me,’ said Lord Guy indifferently, ‘then you must expect to be insulted in return.’
    â€˜You, my lord, are as bad as your servants.’
    â€˜And you, my lady, are a sour-faced, ungracious, Friday-faced frump, just like your servant.’
    â€˜Come, Miss Hunt,’ cried Lady Debenham.
    â€˜I feel a Spasm coming on,’ faltered Miss Hunt.
    â€˜Pull yourself together,’ snapped Lady Debenham. ‘It is I who is entitled to have a Spasm, not you.’
    She swept out, nearly colliding with Rainbird as he leapt to hold the door open for her.
    Rainbird saw them out and returned to the front parlour. I must not laugh , he thought, but laughter was bubbling up inside him.
    â€˜Now, Joseph,’ said Lord Guy, ‘it seems you were wrong in your choice of friend and in your choice of inamorata. What on earth made you want to give an expensive present to a nasty woman like that?’
    Joseph hung his head. ‘It wasn’t really for her, my lord. It was for Lizzie.’
    Lizzie? thought Lord Guy. Then his face cleared. Lizzie was the scullery maid who had so impressed Miss Jones.
    â€˜Ah,’ he said, ‘our Lizzie is by way of being something of a catalyst.’
    â€˜No, my lord,’ said Joseph. ‘Lizzie’s a Roman Catholic.’
    â€˜Well, if you bought the rose for Lizzie, why give it to Miss Hunt?’
    â€˜I lied to Luke, my lord. Luke is Lord Charteris’, next doors’, first footman. I couldn’t tell him it was for Lizzie, me being a footman, my lord.’
    â€˜Why not?’
    Joseph blushed and remained silent. Rainbird stepped into the breach. ‘What Joseph is trying to say, my lord, is that a scullery maid in the hierarchy of the servants’ hall is far beneath a footman. Itwould be rather like your lordship buying a genteel present for a tavern wench.’
    Lord Guy blinked. He had often found himself becoming impatient with the snobberies of the ton . He had never guessed that such rigid divisions of caste existed belowstairs.
    â€˜I cannot chastise Luke,’ said Lord Guy. ‘That is a job for Lord Charteris. You are infuriating, you know. I don’t know what came over me. I have never been so rude to a lady in the whole of my life. Get out of here and consider yourself lucky that I don’t complain to the