Lord Fool to the Rescue (8 page)

She took pity.

“I’ll say yes to you now, but I’m going to wake in a moment and this will have been a nightmare.”

He smiled. “You mean
a dream
.”

“No. I mean a nightmare.”

“Now who is the one who’s teasing?” He pulled her close and kissed her on the tip of the nose. “You’ll still have to call me
Your Grace
, of course. Sometimes, in private, you may call me
Lord Fool
.”

She frowned and tried to push him away. He was having none of it.

“Will it make a difference that I shall also be addressing you as
Your Grace
?”

“It might.” She grabbed his cravat and pulled him close. “Kiss me, Lord Fool.”

THE END

BLOOD FOR INK

Book One of The Scarlet Plumiere Series

CHAPTER ONE

Capital
Journal,
Fiction
Section,
Friday,
February
the
First

A
rumor
currently
circulates
among
the
gentry
in
Londonberry
that
the
white/blond
Viscount
of
F
had
a
visitor
one
recent
morning,
or
rather,
visitors,
as
the
woman
who
claimed
to
be
his
wife
brought
with
her
a
pair
of
identical
offspring
closely
resembling
the
earl
himself.
Piercing
blue
eyes
and
straight
white
hair
adorned
both
cherubs
whose
mother
was
blessed
with
the
dark
hair
of
her
pure
Spanish
ancestors.

Not
believing
the
woman,
or
his
own
eyes
it
seems,
The
Viscount
of
F
shooed
the
little
family
from
his
noble
steps
and
into
the
halls
of
a
certain
hotel
where
they
have
taken
up
residence
until
a
higher
authority
might
be
able
to
hear
their
tale.

It
was
also
rumored
that
the
mistress
of
Viscount
of
F
has
moved
out
of
his
grasp
as
she
deemed
it
unwise
to
associate
with
a
man
who
possesses
untrustworthy
…
eyes.

Stay
tuned
to
see
if
the
current
fiancée
of
this
poor-sighted
creature
is
also
saved
from
his
company.—The
Scarlet
Plumiere

“
Well,
Stanley,
you
can
’
t
very
well
sue
the
paper
for
libel
when
they
did
print
this
in
the
fiction
section.
”
Ramsey
Birmingham,
Earl
of
Northwick
kept
a
straight
face,
but
only
just.
His
friend
was
not
the
first
to
be
chastised
by
the
red-penned
writer.
That
he
was
being
so
dramatic
about
it,
so
early
in
the
day,
was
an
invitation
for
torment.

“
But
North!
I
tell
you
there
was
no
woman.
No
wife.
No
children
with
my
blue
eyes
and
white
hair.
”

“
White
hair,
even.
Not
blonde.
”
The
Marquis
of
Harcourt
prodded
poor
Stanley
from
behind,
then
walked
around
the
man
and
offered
him
a
much
needed
drink.

“It’s early.” Stanley waited for someone to agree.

“Drink!” Harcourt slapped him on the back, nearly spilling the shot of courage.

Stanley
needed
no
more
prompting
and
emptied
the
glass,
then
stared
into
its
empty
depths.
“
Yes,
white
hair.
There
are
no
such
creatures,
I
assure
you.
I
’
ve
only
been
to
Spain
two
years
ago
…
oh
dear.
”

“
Well,
the
vixen
got
that
right
at
least.
”
Earnest
Meriwether,
the
unfortunately
named
Earl
of
Montpelier,
chimed
in
from
the
far
stacks
of
North
’
s
immodest
library.

“
But
Monty,
I
’
m
telling
you,
there
is
no
such
woman.
”
Stanley
looked
at
a
chair,
but
North
shook
his
head,
as
if
to
say
the
morning
’
s
business
was
so
serious
he
should
keep
on
his
toes.

Stanley straightened and lifted his chin, poor man. So easily manipulated. The Scarlet Plumiere really shouldn’t have picked on such a harmless chap. North was of half a mind to hunt her down and tell her so.

“
Well,
the
Scarlet
Plumiere
has
yet
to
accuse
an
innocent
man,
even
if
she
is
a
bit
inaccurate
on
the
specificity
of
the
crime.
”
Monty
joined
the
rest,
eyes
fixed
on
an
open
volume
of
Shakespeare—the
red
leather
set.
He
took
the
seat
Stanley
had
wanted.

“
He
’
s
right,
of
course.
Let
’
s
hear
it,
Stanley.
What
have
you
done?
”
Harcourt
hooked
a
leg
over
the
corner
of
a
table
and
leaned
forward
for
the
details.

Of course, Stanley broke.

“
I
’
ve
done
nothing!
Nothing
the
rest
of
our
lot
hasn
’
t
done
from
time
to
time.
”