Having laboriously donned white tie and tails entirely unaided, Algy gave himself a pat on the back for a job well done, checked his reflection one last time, and sauntered out of his room in search of cocktails. He had barely set foot upon the staircase when something of a commotion in the hall below arrested his attention.
Algy stopped, and stared. One of the footmen was being frog-marched across the hall by his fellow footman and the butler. The captive was the attractive one from the stables, Algy realised—if the unruly dark curls hadn’t told him this, the wisps of hay adhering to his trousers certainly would have. Algy tutted at such carelessness, before glancing down hastily at his own lower garments for any similar betraying signs. Then he recollected he’d just changed the blasted
