The butler’s sudden announcement caught Imogen by surprise. She was not ready at all to greet Peter today or any day. She rubbed her eyes, wishing she’d remained above stairs this morning. “Could you tell him I am otherwise engaged?” “I’d like to, miss, but he’s standing right beside me.” Imogen gulped nervously. It was the height of bad manners to pretend to be busy when a caller came. To be caught at it was far worse. One set of footsteps came toward her. “Hello Imogen.” Although she strained her senses, she couldn’t detect another presence with him. “Sir Peter.” She stood quickly, forgetting her lap was full of embroidery yarns she was attempting to straighten as a gift for Teresa Long. “Oh.” Imogen dropped to her knees, running her hands over the thick, carpeted rug in search of them. She gathered them up, and then struggled to reposition herself on her settee. By the time she lifted her face it was hot with embarrassment. Peter sat at her side. “You missed a couple.”
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