Agnes stood at the door, eyes wide, with her fist poised to knock. Right in Parson’s path.
“Parson, your reference will be contingent upon how congenial you conduct your departure,” Maeve said with an intractable calm. Maeve was known for her intractable calm. “Come in, Agnes.”
Agnes stepped quickly in the room and out of Parson’s way.
“Now. What can I do for you, dear?”
“There’s a man at the door, ma’am. Says he was sent by Lord Harlowe. He be our new butler.”
He would not dare. The utter gall of the man. “I’ll take care of it,” she bit out.
“Ma’am?” Agnes still stood there.
She wasn’t up for much more, but she didn’t wish to take out her irritation with Harlowe on Agnes. “What is it?”
“Thank you, ma’am. Ain’t no one ever took up fer me b’fore. Not since Miss Hollerfield.”
Some of the tension in Maeve’s neck eased. “Not at all, Agnes. Now, run along and do me proud.”
Maeve stormed the ground level, her heels clipping on the marble, to the entry hall. “There’s no one here,” she said to the room at large.
A towering, beefy man with no neck, no hair on his face or head, and watchful green eyes stepped out from a coat wardrobe. “I’m McCaskle,” he said.
Maeve put his age around forty, but she’d never have the courage to ask. She also detected the slight hint of brogue in his vernacular. She barely kept from gasping at the sight.
“Harlowe sent me.”
“So I heard.”
“Are ye going t’ be difficult about this?”
“I expect I will,” she said on an exasperated huff. “But I am meeting friends at Trotter’s, and I’m running late. Perhaps you’ll be so good as to hail a hackney.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Now see here, Mr. McCaskle—”
“Just McCaskle. Harlowe was good as to send me over in his coach.”
“What coach?” she demanded.
“The one awaitin’ you. Just outside. Complete with footman.”
“Footman?”
“His name is Niall.”
“Does this Niall happen to be a relative of yours?”
“Matter o’fact, he’s me son, milady.”
Maeve accepted Niall’s assistance from her shiny new conveyance. “You may return to Cavendish Square,” she told him. “Lady Kimpton’s coach will see me home.” She pointed to a rig close to the center of the street, lifted her hand, and waved at Andrews.
“Are ye certain, milady?”
“I’m very certain, Niall. Thank you for the ride. Lady Kimpton and Lady Brockway just disappeared in the modiste’s. See? Andrews is parked just out front. Now go. And tell McCaskle not to get too comfortable. I’ve an appointment to make with Lord Harlowe regarding his high-handedness.”
Niall shot her an engaging grin and flicked the reins.
