*Bottomley*
If I had been tired when I got to Westonbirt, I am utterly exhausted by the time I reached Zac’s London townhouse three hours later. I have never been to his bachelor’s lodgings before, but I grew up in London, so I locate it easily from the address that Norwood has given me.
With desperation-filled eyes, I ascend the front steps and pound on the door. Smithers answers almost immediately. “Deliveries,” he says imperiously, “are made in the rear.”
Before Smithers can shut the door, I wedge myself into the doorway, gasping. “That’s not why I’m here. I…”
“As are inquiries for employment.” Smithers’s glare turns even frostier.
“Will you shut yer mouth for a second!” I burst out. “I work for the alpha at Westonbirt. Drive his carriage.” I pause, still breathing heavily. “It’s t
