Blake sighed at the light, enthusiastic tone that filled the dreary drawing room.Ah, I cannot win.
“I’m always around, Lady Rosilee,” Bishop replied smoothly. “Though it seems I missed a rather engaging discussion.”
“Not so engaging,” Blake muttered.
Lady Rosilee’s gaze swiveled to him.
Damn-bloody-nation.
“That’s not what I meant.”
She arched a brow. “What did you mean?”
“Another good question,” Bishop supplied. “The lady is full of them. Please keep them coming.”
Lady Rosilee chuckled.
Blake did not. “Shouldn’t you be guarding the door of residence?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you are a butler? Give Mr. Wiggins some rest.”
“Do you even know the extent of a butler’s duties?”
This blackguard. Always challenging him. “I do, and It’s certainly not meddling, nor is it lingering.”
“I beg to differ,” Bishop said with ease. “That is our exact job.”
Blake glared at the man.
“This plan of yours?” Bishop pressed with a knowing grin.
Blake straightened, his skin prickling under their regard. His next move? The truth was, he’d obstinately refuse to think about a plan. How the devil was he to help her find the right husband when his chest throbbed at the mere thought?
Still, showing any uncertainty in front of Lady Rosilee wasn’t an option, so he cleared his throat. The damn cravat felt impossibly tight again. “I’ll be heading out shortly.”
Lady Rosilee blinked. “Out where?”
“To find you a husband, of course.”
Bishop’s amused drawl drifted over. “Just like that?”
“I have a few connections,” he replied, deliberately vague. “I’ll make it happen.”
Bishop, of course, couldn’t resist adding his commentary. “Ah, yes. The infamousconnections.I’m sure your network will pull through as always.”
“Well, I, for one, have placed all my trust in you.” Lady Rosilee looked around. “Where is Ben, by the way?”
Bishop waved his hand. “He is helping Mrs. Prune ready a room for you, which reminds me, we shall have to find you a chaperone. These London folk love to get bees in their bonnets over the smallest of things.”
“I am her chaperone,” Blake said, recalling how she’d declined his same offer. He didn’t mind. He didn’t like people around him.
“A man cannot be a woman’s chaperone,” Bishop countered.
“He can if he is her guardian.”
“But you are not.”
