Crispin made a surprised sound, but before he could respond with a question, the door flung wide. Crispin shot to his feet and blocked the woman from the unknown intruder.
A ginger-haired boy dashed into the room, slammed and bolted the door, and rested against it, panting. He looked up at Crispin through a mane of curled locks. Riotous freckles showed darker against his bone pale skin.
"Jack!" Crispin put a hand to this throbbing head. "What by God's toes are you doing?"
"Master," said the boy. His gaze darted between the girl peering around Crispin's back and then up to Crispin again. "Nought. Nought much."
Crispin glared at his charge. Jack Tucker was more trouble than any servant had a right to be.
If you enjoy historical novels or like a slightly grity amateur sleuth novel I recommend this series. Great fun. If you haven't indulged in this book, give in now.