Page 18 of The Cutthroat Countess

Jo returned to her chair and sat with a sigh, absently rubbing the shoulder where the bird had been sitting.

Elliot leaned close enough to take her other hand. “You are hurt. How did it happen?”

She shrugged, winced, and then said, “I really don’t remember. Things happened rather . . . quickly.”

“What did happen?”

But before she could answer, there was a light tap on the door. “Come in,” Elliot called.

Crisp entered, bearing a large tea tray, his sharp gaze already fixed on Jo.

“Oh,” Jo said, “I didn’t know there was anyone else here. Did you come with His Grace?”

Elliot coughed. “Er, he actually came with me—or after me, to be precise. This is Bevil Crisp, who has been with me for years. Crisp, this is the Countess of Packenham.”

Crisp laid the tray down without making a sound and then bowed with enough grace to impress a court functionary. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

Jo smiled and nodded.

“It was Lady Packenham who rescued me in France last year,” Elliot explained.

One of the valet’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch, which was the equivalent of raucous cheering from Crisp. “I am most grateful to you, my lady. Mr. Wingate is an exemplary employer, and I would have hated to lose him.”

Jo laughed, and Elliot couldn’t help smiling at the other man’s dry wit.

“Elliot.”

Crisp’s head whipped around, and Elliot had the singular pleasure of seeing his unflappable servant flapped for the first time in all the years he’d known the man.

“He seems to be saying your name a lot,” Jo observed.

“It’s how I knew he was out in Morrison’s garden,” Elliot said. “I think he now views my name as a magical talisman for getting what he wants.” Elliot stood and took a piece of buttered bread from the tray Crisp had brought and offered it to Angus.

As usual, the raven was gentle when he took the food.

“This is Lady Packenham’s associate—his name is Angus,” Elliot said, smirking at his still-startled servant. “He is quite fond of cheese and apples, if there are any to be had.”

“Ah. I was just going to ask what your plans might be, sir. I’m afraid the larder is quite bare. But if we are staying, I passed an inn on the way here. I can procure food for you and—how many others will there be, sir?”

“That would be five of us, including yourself, Crisp. And yes, we’ll be staying the rest of the day and leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Very good, sir. I shall see to the food and also to the rooms. I took the liberty of exploring the top floor and discovered four chambers, sir. They are modest but surprisingly clean.”

“I don’t suppose you saw a bathtub in your explorations?” Elliot asked, amused by how Jo perked up at his question.

“Actually, sir, there is a hipbath in the kitchen. I shall ask the two gentlemen His Grace left to help carry it up to the largest chamber.”

“Thank you, Crisp.”

Once his valet had gone, Elliot gestured to the tea tray. “Shall I?”

“Thank you, I would love some.”

“Are you quite alright, Jo? You look wan.”

“Just hungry.”

“You took a knock on the head; you should probably rest.”