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“I was watching the seagulls, and they always take off into the wind. I am sure that holds a lesson in how to fly!”
“Well done, lad.” He grabbed his hat off the globe, twirled it around one finger. Cassandra was pulling on her gloves, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. “You can tell me about it next time. Now, make sure you’ve done all your work for Miss Sampson.”
“Yes, sir.”
The boy darted off again. Joshua headed after him. He was already through the doorway when he remembered that he should let her go first, but if he started turning all polite, then she’d think she was reforming him, and the woman already had enough dangerous ideas.
Chapter 12
“This is the stupidest idea since Napoleon visited Russia in winter,” Joshua grumbled as Cassandra joined him on the footpath outside Lord Bolderwood’s house. She had visited here before, years ago, when the world thought this house might one day be hers.
She smoothed her skirts, straightened her bonnet, and packed up the last of her unruly emotions. They had made the carriage ride to Mayfair in silence, Joshua with his hat tipped over his eyes, while Cassandra gazed out the window and listed a thousand random things to quell all memory of what had passed.
“You should have helped me down from the carriage,” she said, taking a shamefully petty pleasure in nagging.
He twisted around to frown at the carriage, and then at her. “You cannot manage by yourself?”
“The groom assisted me, but it should have been you.”
“What for? Your legs seem to work properly.”
“I’d like to see you jumping up and down from carriages while dressed in skirts and stays.”
He blinked at her. “Mrs. DeWitt! Did you refer to your underwear in public? I am shocked!”
“You are nothing of the sort.”
Despite everything, she could not help but be amused, her mood shifting with her enjoyment of his playful theatrics. She supposed he was enjoying himself too, for he extended his elbow in an exaggeratedly gallant gesture.
“Stop gossiping about your corset,” he said. “Let’s go give ’em a jolly good click in the muns.”
She slipped her fingers around his arm. “I have no idea what a muns is, but please refrain from clicking anyone there. We are going to be polite, reasonable, and civilized, and persuade them to stop to this nonsense.”
“I still say this is a stupid idea.”
“And I still say you should help me down from the carriage, but it seems neither of us will get what we want today.”
At the door, she waited for him to knock. Rather than do so, however, he twiddled his thumbs and began to whistle. She looked at him. He looked at her.
“Are we going to stand here all day?” he asked.
“It is more appropriate for you to knock, as the gentleman.”
He studied the brass lion head on the door. “Too heavy for you to lift, is it? Is this to do with your long skirts and corset? Or are your female fingers too delicate?”
“We should have brought Mr. Newell, to do this for you,” she said, amusement warring with exasperation. She lifted the brass ring and knocked sharply. “Heaven forbid you should have to lift a finger.”
He grinned. “I don’t see why I should do everything around here, when you are perfectly capable of doing things yourself.”
Before she could reply, the door swung open to reveal a remarkably handsome man who was dressed like a butler, but who was much too young and unkempt for a butler in an aristocratic house. Perhaps it was Lord Bolderwood’s financial situation, she mused, that meant he could not even afford proper servants.
The inappropriate butler ignored Cassandra and looked at Joshua.
“Yes, sir? How may I help you?”
Joshua made no reply. Cassandra gave him a pointed look.
“What?” he said to her. “Forgotten how to speak, have you? Must I do everything?”
