Page 2 of The Trouble with Tigers
She lifted her hand, intent on taking the brass knocker again and banging with all her might.
Before she could grasp it, however, the door swung open wide.
She sucked in a breath, cowed despite herself. The man she faced now was no butler. He was a very tall, broad shouldered man, impeccably dressed, with a shock of white hair, a lean, square jaw, and keen blue eyes. The Earl of Claybourne, she presumed.
Now that she had his attention, she realized, she hadn’t worked out quite what to say. How to convince him she was who she claimed, that she needed aid, and more to the point, needed him to provide it. “My lord,” she said, and dipped a low curtsy. “I’m Lady—”
Before she could finish introducing herself, the man gripped her upper arm, holding her steady, and flipped up the netting of her cap to study her face.
After the briefest moment, he nodded in evident satisfaction and folded the material back down. “Can’t disguise those tiger eyes, m’dear.”
Tiger eyes? Oh, dear. Had her grandfather’s friend lost his mind? “Excuse—”
He shushed her with a quick grunt, gave the front perimeter of Claybourne Manor a quick scan, then dragged her into the blessed warmth of the foyer. “Let’s get you inside before anyone sees. I’ve been expecting you.”
Chapter One
London, England, August 1877
The hackney drew to a halt, rousing Zeke from an uncomfortable slumber. He peeled open gritty eyes and peered through thick evening fog.
There it was, the familiar outline of Claybourne Hall. His birthright. His home. Eventually.
He tossed the driver some coins and dropped to the curb, flicking a glance at the starless sky. God, he hated the London haze.
He chuckled to himself as he opened the iron gate and started up the walk. Already grumbling and he hadn’t even been ashore—how many hours now? What time was it, anyway? Well past his grandfather’s bedtime, of that he was sure. He’d hoped to arrive earlier.
The massive front door opened as he cleared the top step.
The earl’s butler, still in full servant’s garb appeared. “Lord Thurgood, welcome home.”
“Smethwick, good to see you.” Zeke crossed the threshold. “I suppose the earl’s abed?”
“Indeed, no, my lord. He’s in the den.”
“At this hour?”
“Playing a board game with Kit, I believe.”
“Kit?” Zeke handed off his gloves and hat.
“The earl’s hired a young companion. Shall I announce you?”
“Think I’ll surprise him.” Though travel weary and sorely in need of a hot soak and soft bed, a broad smile covered his face. He’d missed the old man.
The door to the den stood open and a soft glow of lamplight from the room’s interior spilled out over the marble corridor.
“I can’t believe it, Kit. You’ve bested me again.” The earl’s crusty voice.
A soft laugh reached Zeke’s ears. Ayoungerrand boy, then. The earl had gotten himself a tiger.
He rapped his knuckles sharply on the doorframe. “Hello, anyone here care to welcome home a long missing son?”
He spotted his grandfather looking relaxed and contented in his favorite armchair near the hearth and waited for his reaction.
His grandfather’s face lit with joy, followed by an odd expression Zeke couldn’t quite discern, before an ear splitting grin took its place.
The earl hoisted himself out of his chair. “Zeke, why didn’t you send word you were coming home?”
