Chapter 2
Harry Arden ran ahead of Kit up the steps, opened his own front door, regarded his own boots and the mud and the polished entrance hall, and winced. “Go on.”
“Are you—why are you taking your boots off?” The Earl’s younger brother was also quite possibly insane. Built of sunshine, possessed of herculean shoulders, and blithely disregarding of any sort of proper gentlemanly behavior.
And capable of removing his own footwear, Kit noticed. Definitely not a useless lazy lordling.
“I’m covered in today’s blizzard,” Harry said, looking around for someplace to leave the questionable boots, “and I’m hardly going to make more work for the staff, am I? They barely put up with us as it is—oh, hello, Grayson, is Ned in the study? This is, er, sorry, I haven’t got your name, from London, f
