Free Barbara Metzger by Lord Heartless Page A

his nervous co-conspirator, “and Philippa seems to like him."
    Carissa looked around the tidied study until she found her daughter. Pippa was sitting quietly alongside the hearth. The fingers of her left hand were in her mouth; Pippa's right hand was in the dog's mouth, feeding that filthy, hulking cur her gingerbread! If that wasn't enough to strike terror in a mother's heart, Pippa switched hands.
    Carissa shrieked, causing Byrd to drop the plate he was carrying of the new cook's excellent pastries. Glad was there before the first macaroon touched the floor. Of course, he'd had to knock Pippa over to get to the fallen delicacies and step right across her, too. Mrs. Kane screamed again. The viscount dove to right the child, tripped over the dog, and bumped his head on the mantel. And Pippa laughed.
    Lesley glared at the child, Mrs. Kane glared at him, Byrd glared at the widow, and Pippa laughed some more. The dog, of course, ate the rest of the macaroons.
    Carissa was wiping Pippa's hands with her handkerchief. “That's enough. I cannot go to Hammond House with you, my lord. You might choose to leave your daughter with a ravening beast, but I do not."
    "Mama, you are fussing again."
    Now Lesley looked at the child approvingly. “Yes, Mrs. Kane, you are worrying over naught. I for one enjoyed hearing the child laugh, even if it was at my expense. But if it will make you feel better, we can take Glad with us."
    Ride in the carriage with the creature? Carissa would rather go to the tooth drawer. “No, this is simply not a good idea. Surely you can locate a cradle without my assistance. I can draw you a picture."
    "The dog can ride up with Byrd, ma'am. Unless you are getting cold feet? I thought you were made of sterner stuff, Mrs. Kane."
    Somehow she did not wish to appear one of those niminypiminy females, afraid of their shadows. And she wanted this handsome lord to look on her approvingly, also. Without stopping to inspect her motives, Carissa agreed. If she was lucky, perhaps the animal would fall off, or run off. If she was luckier yet, perhaps their route would take them past the Tower menagerie. Gladiator could be tossed to the lions.
    The butler at Hammond House should have been guarding the palace gates, he was so stony-faced and toplofty. He looked past the viscount's shoulder to welcome Lord Hartleigh to his own house, ignoring the unaccompanied, unfashionable female with him. “I regret, milord, that Lady Hartleigh and the Misses Spillhammer are not at home. Almack's, milord.” His tone said he regretted having to open the door to anyone not granted vouchers for that pillar of propriety. “Would you care to leave a message?"
    "Agatha insisted I hire Wimberly,” Lesley whispered to Carissa. “She thought Hammond House needed a more dignified majordomo than a retired prizefighter."
    "I thought Mr. Byrd was a sailor.” Carissa would have laughed at the idea of Lady Hartleigh's morning callers being welcomed by a tattooed butler, but Wimberly was staring down his nose at her cloak. The viscount had removed her worn woolen mantle from Carissa's shoulders and held it out. The butler snapped his fingers for a footman to come remove the plebeian garment from the marble entry.
    "No, Wimberly, I did not come to visit with the ladies. Mrs. Kane and I have come to select some things from the attics and the nursery. We'll need a couple of strong footmen to bring the things down, and a carriage to transport it all to Kensington."
    "The nursery, milord?"
    "Yes, you know, where one places small persons to keep them from staining the upholstery."
    "But, milord, you cannot. That is, Lady Hartleigh would wish to—"
    "Wimberly, whose house is this?"
    "Yours, milord, but—"
    "And who owns everything in it?"
    "You do, milord, but Lady Hartleigh will have my—"
    "And who pays your overinflated salary, Wimberly?"
    "How many footmen did you say you required, milord?"
    So they started in the attics, with lanterns. Lord Hartleigh