Page 75 of The Wolf of Mayfair
“Well, that is reassuring,” he said sarcastically.
“It is just your description—” The other man stopped midsentence.
The very fine thread of Wingrave’s patience snapped. “Yes, Humphries?”
A flush filled Humphries’s cheeks. “The lady is not here.”
Wingrave’s spine went erect.
An unnerving disturbance in his chest upset Wingrave’s usual stoicism.
“What exactly does that mean?” he asked on a grim whisper.
All the color bled from the butler’s lean face. “She’s gone o-out?”
He narrowed his eyes. “She’s gone out. Is that a question, Humphries?”
“N-no. She’s not left, my lord. Just gone out.”
“Alone, in the cold, when she’s still recovering from a bloody illness, Humphries?” he hissed.
Humphries looked one breath away from breaking into big, blustery tears.
Good. The fellow had better be afraid. Very afraid. “Where has the lady gone?”
“The Frost F-fair, my lord.”
He furrowed his brow. “The Frost Fair,” Wingrave repeated.
Humphries gave a juddering nod.
“What the hell is that?”
“The River Thames, my lord.”
This entire day had gotten turned upside down. “A fair is being heldonthe Thames.” He resisted the urge to jam his fingertips against his suddenly throbbing temples.
His butler beamed. “The water’s frozen, it has. Hasn’t done so in decades, my lord.”
The young butler’s trepidation faded with every word he spoke and was replaced instead with an incongruously childish excitement that belied the unwelcome worry that slithered around Wingrave’s chest.
“There’s all manner of revelry taking place, my lord: ninepins, skating, sled races.”
Wingrave gritted his teeth. The stubborn chit didn’t have a jot of common sense. She’d risk her still-fragile health.
“Why, even the prince regent has attended the festivities and—”
“I don’t care if God and Satan united on the bloody event and struck an eternal accord,” Wingrave snarled.
“My apologies, my lord,” the servant whispered.
Wingrave jabbed a finger at the butler. “If she comes to any harm, you and anyone who allowed her to leave this household will be sacked without a single reference.” He hissed, “My horse.”
Dropping a jerky bow, Humphries backed away. “Yes, m-my lord. First thing.”
“Don’t tell me, Humphries,” he thundered. “Just bloody do it.”
“Yes, my—” The servant caught himself, and then tripping over his feet, Humphries raced off to do Wingrave’s bidding.
