Felicity was not certain what a letter from Valor’s stuffed rabbit would say, but she gave it little thought as she was certain Valor would never get around to doing it.
“What shall you do when you see him, Felicity?” Grace asked.
“I shan’t see him. I do not wish to go anywhere he might be. I will only go to small affairs where he is not likely to appear.”
“You do not go to the rout this evening, then?” Patience asked.
“Certainly not. I intend to have an evening in with my very genial sisters and shall be happy to do it.”
“And have an evening in with Mrs. Wendover,” Valor added.
Felicity nodded. “Of course, Mrs. Wendover.”
She supposed that would be her life now—having a night in with Mrs. Wendover.
*
Percy had notyet descended the stairs, as he’d been up very late thinking about Lady Felicity. It was after eleven o’clock in the morning and Radcliff was just now putting the finishing touches on his neckcloth when they heard a terrible shriek from downstairs.
“That sounded like your father,” Radcliff whispered.
“What now?” Percy asked.
The next half-minute was taken up with the viscount shouting a string of oaths.
“I’d best go and see, I suppose,” Percy said. “Perhaps his warnings to my mother have finally come to something and he’s very predictably ended on the wrong side of the stick. I’ve told him before, the viscountess will push back if pushed too far.”
“I’ll wait here,” Radcliff said.
“Coward,” Percy said, hurrying from the room.
What he found below stairs was an interesting scene. His father was holding one hand in the other and hopping, the front doors were flung open, and the front steps were covered in iron chains of various sizes.
Before he could inquire into what had happened, the viscount shouted, “I fell! I wished to step out for some fresh air and fell over on top of that heap of metal. My finger is broken, and my toe might be too!”
“Why is it there, though?” Percy asked. “Did you order it?”
“Why would I order all that? Do I look like I’m deranged?”
Percy did not answer, as the old soldierdidlook rather deranged at the moment.
“Of course I did not order it!”
“Then what is it doing there?” Percy asked.
“How should I know!” the viscount shrieked.
Just then, his mother came out of the drawing room. She looked about and said, “Gracious, why have you had that pile delivered to the doorstep? How are we to come and go with that in the way? Are we meant to jump over it?”
As his father began the predictable shouting, peppered with “I warn you,” Percy stepped outside.
It really was a significant amount of chains, in all sizes, some looking new and some well-used, all piled atop one another. He supposed that somebody had ordered such a conglomeration and it had been delivered to the wrong house. How odd that it would have been dumped at the front doors though. One might have thought the driver would have knocked and inquired or put it in the mews out of sight, at the very least.
As he stared at it, he noted a small paper folded up among the chains. He reached down for it, certain it would reveal the address this mess was supposed to go to.
He unfolded it.
You will not be chained, eh?
