He held tight to her hand as he charged into the kitchen. “Burrow! Bring me a shot gun!” Rosalie was giggling now, one hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. She prayed he wouldn’t turn around and see her laughing, not when they’d made a little progress at last. “What happened, m’lord?” one of the maids cried. “Dubois,” James barked, taking the shotgun the hall boy offered him. “Change of plans. The second course for tonight’s dinner is going to be swan.”
