Page 36 of Arcane Entanglement
Evander removed his notebook from the pocket of his coat, tore out a page, and presented it to Viggo along with a magic quill.
“Would you be so kind as to oblige? It appears my footman is one of your ardent admirers.”
Viggo looked at the paper and quill like they were poison.
Solomon pressed a fist to his mouth and turned away slightly, shoulders quaking.
Viggo glared at his associate.
Evander bit his lip, similarly struck by a sudden urge to laugh at the Brute’s outraged look.
“I promise, they don’t bite,” he managed in a strangled voice.
Viggo clenched his jaw. He eyed Samuel’s breathlessly expectant expression, snatched the page and quill from Evander, and scribbled his name.
“There.” He thrust the autograph to Samuel. “Though I do not know why a magic user would want the signature of a Brute of all things.”
“I’m not a magic user, sir,” Samuel said distractedly, staring at the treasure in his hands.
Evander had no doubt he’d be sleeping with it under his pillow tonight. He clocked Viggo’s surprised look.
Solomon’s pensive gaze swung from the footman to Evander.
“So, the rumours are true? You employ thralls?”
“Yes,” Samuel chirped enthusiastically before Evander could reply. “My sister and cousins work as maids for his Grace. My other sister and uncle work at Lady Hartley’s townhouse. There are thralls working on their country estates too.”
“Come now, Samuel,” Graham murmured from the box seat in the awkward silence. “We should let his Grace get on with his business.” He dipped his head courteously at Evander. “We shall see you this afternoon, my Lord.” The coachman smiled faintly and tipped his hat off to Viggo as the footman reluctantly climbed into the seat beside him. “Young Samuel here has long talked about your exploits, Mr. Stonewall. It is a pleasure to finally put a face to the name.”
Viggo stared after the disappearing carriage.
“Are all your employees like that?” he murmured.
“You mean, the opposite of a cold, unfeeling bastard who distrusts everyone he meets at first sight?” Evander said mildly.
Solomon made a choked sound.
Viggo narrowed his eyes. “You think I’m a cold unfeeling bastard who distrusts everyone he meets at first sight?”
Evander arched an eyebrow, not in the least bit intimidated. “Do you deny it?”
The question seemed to startle the Brute.
Remorse flashed through Evander. He sighed.
“Forgive me. I am being rude despite the fact that I’m the one in need of your assistance. Come, let us go in.”
Viggo and Solomon signed the visitors’ logbook with the kind of expression that suggested they were being made to donate a limb. The eyes of the sergeant and two constables manning the gates bulged as Solomon divested himself of his many weapons.
Evander frowned at the pistol, two knives, leather sap, and knuckle duster in the tray.
Where the devil was he keeping all that?!
The sergeant handed Solomon a receipt and gazed expectantly at Viggo.
“Do I look like I need a weapon?” the Brute said coolly.
The sergeant swallowed, gaze darting to Evander.
