My Fair Lily(8)

“No,” Ewan said.

“Let me know if I’ve overlooked anything for Margaret’s comforts.”

“I’ll provide Meggie with whatever she needs.” Ewan tried to recall the last time anyone who truly knew his sister had called her by that given name.

“Ewan, I—”

“Will that be all, Your Grace?”

The old man sighed. “Yes, I suppose. For now. Breakfast is at eight o’clock sharp.”

***

Ewan arose at daybreak the next morning, annoyed to find his clothes cleaned and pressed, and boots polished to a perfect shine despite the fact that he had come in late the night before and not left them out for the duke’s servants to tend.

Someone must have come into his quarters during the night and taken them.

Jasper, his trusted watchdog, was stretched out like a lump on the cool marble tiles in front of the hearth, sound asleep and snoring in that rheumy, whining way that only Jasper could manage.

“Wake up, ye looby. Did I no’ teach you to bark when a stranger enters?”

Jasper forced one eye open and shot him a look.

“Right, we’re the strangers. Is that what you’re trying to tell me? Still, you could have warned me.” In truth, Ewan was just as irritated with himself. He’d been pleasantly surprised to encounter a friend down from Scotland, a hard-drinking companion who happened to be passing through London on his way to Dover. Before Ewan knew it, he was stumbling back to Lotheil Court in the wee hours of the morning. He barely remembered taking off his clothes before his head hit the pillow.

Most comfortable bed he’d ever slept in.

Best sleep he’d had in months.

Then again, he was piss drunk and would have felt as comfortable collapsing into a coal bin.

His throat was parched and his head pounded louder than a war drum. Not even the hot bath he’d taken before joining his friend for the evening had worked to soothe the tension in his muscles.

“Stuffy in here, isn’t it, Jasper?” Ewan strode across the room, drew aside the drapes, and opened a window. The hazy glare of sunlight and a hot breeze assaulted his senses. “Bollix! Wind’s blowing off the Thames.” He shut the window and sighed. “Three months o’ this? Don’t know if I can take even one more day.”

Someone rapped lightly at his door.

“Go away,” Ewan said at the same time a thin, impeccably groomed gentleman a few years younger than his grandfather opened the door and stepped in.

He stifled an oath and quickly donned his pants. “I told you to go away.”

“I’m Jergens,” the gentleman replied, “your valet while you’re here. May I assist you with your clothing?”

Ewan let out a soft growl. “Put a hand on me and that’s the last you’ll ever see of it.”

The man took a step back. “My lord, you appear to be out of sorts this morning. I took the liberty of preparing a… er, remedy for the headache I expected you to have upon awakening. The glass is sitting on the table beside your bed.”

“What’s in it?” He followed the direction of his valet’s gaze.

“It’s best you don’t know,” Jergens replied without so much as a blink.

Ewan stepped to the table and lifted the glass to his nose. His eyes instantly began to tear and he let out a gagging cough. “What the hell is this? Smells worse than a horse’s arse!”

“An old Scottish remedy,” Jergens said. “I gave the same to your father whenever he came home a little worse for wear.”

“You knew my father?” Ewan glanced at the man in surprise. “How long have you been working here?”

“Oh, well over forty years. I started as a lad of sixteen.” He paused the length of a heartbeat. “Yes, I knew your father. I was his valet, too.”

“And now my grandfather’s ordered you to spy on me.”

“Yes, my lord. I’m required to provide details of your every movement.”

Ewan, still holding the glass and its vile contents, arched an eyebrow.

“He ordered me to spy on you, not lie to you,” Jergens said smoothly. “Is there anything else you wish, my lord? Shall I take Jasper for his morning walk?”

Jasper wagged his tail.

“I’ll walk him.” Ewan drained the contents of his glass. If Jasper trusted Jergens, then he might as well give the man a chance. Surely his grandfather had the entire household staff under orders to watch him and Meggie and report their every movement. Probably had Bow Street runners watching him as well. “Bollix, that stinks.”

Had they seen him enter Madame de Bressard’s dress shop to order the replacement gown for the lass, Lily? And purchase the MacLaurin book on Charing Cross Road? He intended to visit his father’s London bankers and solicitors today.