I suppose that saves us from having to determine what to do with a butler who goes around killing people. It certainly reflects badly upon our domestic staff. Still, I shall miss him. There was a man who knew how to brew a good cup of tea.
Gail CarrigerShe reached inside the wide ruffle and pulled out a little vial. โPoison?โ asked Lady Maccon, tilting her head to one side. โCertainly not. Something far more important: perfume. We cannot very well have you fighting crime unscented, now, can we?โ โOh.โ Alexia nodded gravely. After all, Madame Lefoux was French. โCertainly not.
Gail CarrigerShe took a moment to lament her lack of parasol. Every time she left the house, she felt keenly the absence of her heretofore ubiquitous accessory.
Gail CarrigerWell, my love,โ said Alexia with prodigious daring to Lord Maccon, โshall we?โ The earl started to move forward and then stopped abruptly and looked down at her, not moving at all. โAm I?โ โAre you what?โ She peeked up at him through her tangled hair, pretending confusion. There was no possible way she was going to make this easy for him. โYour love?โ โWell, you are a werewolf, Scottish, naked, and covered in blood, and I am still holding your hand.โ He sighed in evident relief. โGood. That is settled, then.
Gail Carriger