to face the irate man. “Allow? You cannot allow? Worse, you’re putting a crease in my jacket.”
The major loosed his grip. “The devil with your jacket. Last night you looked like a man who was going to tell her about the threat to her life. Did you?”
“I allowed my mind to be changed on that head,” Justin told him, taking the gloves and hat and riding crop Wigglesworth, who had materialized seemingly from out of nowhere, pressed into his hands. “Thank you, Wigglesworth. You remain, as always, a treasure.”
“You’re welcome, my lord. I would have been here sooner, had you but told me you were about to depart. You will be careful, won’t you, sir?”
“Am I not always careful, Wigglesworth?” Justin asked, putting on his curly brimmed beaver and lightly tapping it into place.
“No, sir, you’re not.” The servant turned to address the major. “He’s not, you know. But he always triumphs. If his lordship says that everything will be fine, then it will be fine, because he wouldn’t have it any other way. But perhaps not always immediately.”
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