The Falsity of the Modern as Expressed by Velour
The fireplace burned bright and cheery in the sitting room. Lord Baldwin had come to visit, and was presently caressing the plush velour of one of the armchairs. Barklay the steward stood watching him from the next room. Lady Baldwin had remained at home tonight to entertain Mr. Wheat. Her husband frequently came to Knighton to escape her Cheapside relations, and to stroke the furniture. Barklay allowed him not five minutes to indulge his perversions before paging his mistress.
"Lord Baldwin", Lady Thistle shrilled, as she entered the parlor. "I'm sure you're very glad to be here." She did not regard him directly, but glared at Barklay to shut the doors.
Lord Baldwin looked up with a grin. His eyes were feral bright. "Lady Thistle, I have something to share with you."
"I am sure that you do not need to say it, my Lord -" she cut in smoothly. -- The doors, you humpbacked bellows-blower -- Barklay quailed under her wrath and complied. "I believe our hearts are in perfect communion. I, too, am fond of this settee to distraction."
Lord Baldwin hated to haggle with this woman. Inevitably, she would gain the upper hand, and he would wind up paying double what he intended for the furniture. If only there were some way to remove her from the auction...
Wait a tick. Perhaps there was indeed a way. If Mr. Wheat could be persuaded to part with his great coat for an evening, and his wife would lend him her two best gowns, he might be able to set up a diversion for Lady Thistle and get rid of that ever-present man servant in one go.
