Chapter 29
Sir Laurence flicked fingers through the air: dismissive, not even deliberately cruel, simply stating the facts as he saw them. “Go. Dress yourself appropriately. Do not speak of amphibians or the calculus to the Duchess of Castledown. Her daughter Anne would be an advantageous match.”
“Sir,” Colby said, shaking.
“I believe I’ve told you to go, William.”
Colby took a step back, and another. Fumbled for the door handle. Wrenched it open.
Ryan, as Thomas, stood on the other side; he melted out of footman’s poise and into concern. “Will—my lord—”
“Don’t,” Colby said, standing very still in the wide stone hallway with the eyes of oil portraits upon him, “don’t say anything, Thomas. Please. Only help me upstairs and help me find something decent to wear. And don’t ask me about duchesses and their daughters.”