Page 105 of The Wallflower Takes All

“Yes.”

He bowed. “Mr. Pritchard, miss. His lordship’s man of business.”

Poppy’s stomach sank. “Lord Montague’s?”

“The same.”

Jenkins appeared from the direction of the study carrying a folded sheet of paper between two fingers, plainly unwilling to trust even his gloves with it.

“Miss Montfort,” he said gravely. “Mr. Pritchard has brought instructions.”

Poppy removed her gloves one finger at a time. “How many?”

Jenkins looked at the sheet. “Several.”

“Of course.”

Mr. Pritchard gestured toward the open crates. “His lordship has requested that certain preparations be completed before his arrival.”

Poppy looked into the nearest crate. It contained a dark wooden cabinet divided into dozens of small compartments.

“What is that?”

“A snuff cabinet.”

“A cabinet solely for snuff?” she asked.

“His lordship prefers his blends to be properly ordered.”

Poppy closed her eyes briefly. “What else?” she asked.

Jenkins cleared his throat and read. “‘The blue bedchamber is to be reserved for Lord Montague’s use, provided the eastern curtains have been examined and found adequate to soften the morning light without rendering the room melancholy.’”

“Could morning light not simply be asked to conduct itself more gently?” Poppy asked.

Mr. Pritchard blinked.

Jenkins continued, his expression heroic. “‘The rose-colored chintz in the morning room is to be removed, as his lordship finds excessive floral patterns injurious to sustained thought.’”

“Algernon has sustained a thought?” Mama’s voice floated down from above. “How marvelous. Someone ought to preserve it in a jar.”

She appeared on the landing in a wrapper of yellow silk, one hand trailing along the banister and a glass of champagne in the other.

“Mama,” Poppy said.

“Darling.” Lady Viva descended slowly, surveying the crates. “Is this the little cabinet for his powders? How industrious. He requires accessories to make sniffing seem like an accomplishment.”

Mr. Pritchard’s face remained fixed in an expression of profound discipline. No doubt he had received firm instructions against reacting to aristocratic eccentricity and meant to obey them.

Jenkins read on. “‘The dining-room chairs are to be examined for wear. His lordship has expressed a preference for green upholstery, preferably in a shade resembling the wing casing of Cetonia aurata.’”

Mama brightened. “Beetles!”

Poppy stared at Jenkins. “He wants beetle-colored chairs?”

“Apparently so, miss.”

“His lordship also requests that the silver urn in the front hall be removed,” Mr. Pritchard said.