Page 7 of Secrets of the Wicked Viscount (The Shadows 2)

“Your cousin, my lord.”

Jarvis clenched and unclenched his fists. He hated interruptions. This was his first exercise in weeks. And he was just getting into the flow, feeling like he could soon be getting back into shape. He should have known better than to practice in the middle of the day.

“All right,” he said. “I need to change, then. Tell Mr. Lenard to welcome Greyson into my study.”

“He is already there, my lord.”

Jarvis heaved a sigh. “Of course he is.”

Jarvis entered his study a few minutes later to see Greyson sitting in his chair, his feet on Jarvis’s desk.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Jarvis said drily and walked toward his desk. He sat opposite Greyson and threw him an irritated look. “Take your feet off my desk.”

“You are in a mood,” Greyson said hoarsely.

If Jarvis hadn’t known any better, he’d think that Greyson had been drinking for three nights and had come out of a tavern brawl. His clothing looked as though it had been lying in a heap somewhere for days. He was missing his cravat, and his waistcoat was missing a button or three. Stubble marred his sunken cheeks and pronounced square jaw, and his dark brown eyes were marred with tiny red veins.

“Do you want me to call for some sandwiches and tea?” Jarvis raised a brow at his cousin.

Greyson closed his eyes as he threw his head back and laced his fingers on his abdomen. “God, yes, please. Only no tea. Coffee,” he said with his head still thrown back and his eyes closed.

“Had a busy night, cousin?” Jarvis asked as he rang for the housekeeper.

Greyson smiled lazily. “Absolutely.”

“Spent the night with Melisande again, have you?”

Greyson grunted in answer.

The housekeeper entered then, and Jarvis asked her to bring the pot of tea and a cup of coffee. He settled back in the chair. “To what do I owe this lovely surprise of your visit?”

“Can’t I just come and see my favorite cousin?”

“You can. But I think you just want free coffee.”

“I need that coffee if I am to stay awake long enough to get to my carriage.” Greyson rubbed his eyes.

“Doesn’t Melisande serve you coffee?” Jarvis asked dryly.

Greyson laughed as if it was the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “No,” he finally said, taking a breath to calm himself. “No, she does not. Besides, I don’t want to linger at her place; otherwise, I fear never actually leaving.”

Jarvis just shook his head.

“Oh, don’t put that disapproving mask on. It doesn’t suit you.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it, though.”

At that moment, the housekeeper walked in with a tray of sandwiches and tea and a steaming cup of coffee. “How are you, Mrs. Lenard?” Greyson smiled his charming smile.

“Can’t complain, my lord. Thank you for asking.”

“You look ten years younger than when I last saw you,” Greyson continued, and Jarvis stifled the urge to roll his eyes.

Greyson found it his duty to flirt with every female he ever came in contact with, young or old.

“Such a flatterer, my lord.” The older woman curtsied and hurried out the door, flustered.

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