Page 23 of King of Rogues
He turned to speak to the viscount, halting mid-move when out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Lady Shadbolt picking up the saltshaker and dropping it casually into her reticule.
“So Monsale, how many rooms does this house have? And more importantly which ones will you be allocating to my good lady wife and I once you and our dear Miriam are wed?”
It took a long slow blink for Monsale to find the right words with which to respond.
“I wasn’t expecting you to come and live here. Don’t you have your own townhouse in Margaret Street?” he replied.
The viscount mumbled something under his breath, then answered. “Yes, but we figured we could save a penny or three by coming to live here. It makes perfect sense. Costs a fortune to heat our house.”
“Not to mention the outrageous wages that our servants demand that we pay them,” added Lady Shadbolt.
Monsale did a double take as he realized the pepper shaker was now also gone from the table. Lady Shadbolt had lightning quick fingers.
The cheek of these people. You invite them to supper, and they steal your possessions right from under your nose.
He could just imagine what it would be like if he did marry their daughter. There was every chance that he would come home from the RR Coaching Company one night to discover they had stripped the place bare and sold everything.
Lady Shadbolt pointed at her daughter. “Make sure you eat everything on your plate my dear. That way you won’t be hungry when we get home.”
“Yes Mama.”
“We could always get the kitchen staff here to pack us some food to take when we leave. I am sure they have plenty to spare,” replied Lord Shadbolt.
Who are these people?
He was mortified. Which for Monsale, was saying something. This was a man who had stolen a ship right from under the noses of the French navy, then sailed past their largest warship and bared his ass at the vice-admiral on deck.
Damn it. I am not going to sit here and be picked over like a bloody carcass.
“I’m afraid there won’t be any extra food, the servants will have eaten it all within the hour,” he replied.
Think yourselves lucky I haven’t thrown you out.
Lord Shadbolt grumbled something about always asking for a large plate of food to take home whenever he dined at friend’s houses, but Monsale pretended not to hear.
He had already heard more than enough. Lady Miriam’s name was about to come off the list. But not before he’d had some fun at the expense of his obnoxious guests.
“You were asking about moving in here. I am afraid I have no spare rooms. What with the orphans who come to stay over the summer. Then there are my many friends who also live here on a semi-permanent basis. Miriam and I simply won’t be able to accommodate you.”
“Orphans. How many do you host?” replied Lord Shadbolt.
Monsale counted on his fingers. “Nine, though if all the triplets decide to come, we could have an even dozen.”
Lord and Lady Shadbolt exchanged a look of grave disappointment which only served to encourage Monsale.
Time to twist the knife in a little more.
“My friend Augustus Jones, stayed here for many weeks earlier this year. Just about ate me out of house and home. He and his new French wife will likely use Monsale House as their base when they visit London.”
“These guests will pay you for room and board, won’t they?” asked Lord Shadbolt.
The worry in his voice had Monsale curling his toes up in his boots with delight.
“Of course not. I would never ask my friends for money. Actually, that is not entirely true. I have been known to put my hand out when I need their help in settling my gambling debts.”
He chuckled and gave the viscount a cheeky wink. “Bit of a loss when it comes to the cards. I can never keep up with what I am supposed to hold and what I should be throwing away.”
Lord Shadbolt turned a whiter shade of pale. “But you are one of the richest men in all of England.”
