“Er,” said Matilda. “I suppose that’s fine.”
Buttons squealed in delight and bounced on her heels.
Matilda sent a startled glance over her shoulder at the earl.
He shrugged. “I hired her a fortnight ago when my godmother cooked up this codswallop. Buttons might have been bored whilst she awaited your arrival.”
An impeccably dressed older gentleman approached behind Buttons. He tilted his head toward Matilda and whispered, “I should react in much the same manner if his lordship would allow me to perform my full duties as well.”
“Augustin, my valet,” the earl said coldly. “Who is not to speak to Miss Dodd without express leave to do so.”
“You have my permission to speak to me any time you please,” Matilda said without hesitation. “All of you do. I’m not one to stand on ceremony, and I’m sure I’m no better than any of you.”
“Oh my,” said Buttons, darting an alarmed glance toward Lord Gilbourne.
“Oh my is right,” said Augustin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “This is going to get interesting.”
“Have the footmen take the trunks upstairs,” the earl commanded. “I’ll use the same room as before. We shall install Miss Dodd in the bedchamber farthest from mine.”
“How many bedchambers are in your suite?” Matilda asked in wonder.
“Milord has rented half of the first floor,” Augustin answered.
“Even ill-mannered servants need a place to sleep,” Lord Gilbourne said curtly.
Augustin cupped a hand over his mouth to whisper to Matilda, “And our prickly employer would never send us up to the attic with everyone else’s servants.”
“Because an earl’s servants rank higher?” Matilda whispered back.
The valet shook his head. “Because attics are cramped and hot and unbearable. Milord may try to deny his compassionate nature, but if one pays close enough attention—”
“Enough whispering,” the earl snapped. “Have you no job to do?”
Augustin gave Matilda a wink, then hurried to help the footmen into the hotel and up the stairs with the traveling trunks.
Matilda followed behind, with the earl at her side and Buttons at her heels.
As soon as the door to the earl’s suite was secured behind them, Lord Gilbourne turned to Matilda. “Buttons is to accompany you at all times. It is her chaperonage, along with our impersonal guardian-and-ward relationship that makes it acceptable for us to sleep under the same roof.”
“Is there such a thing as an impersonal relationship?” she asked, remembering their kiss. “And even if so, are you certain we’re in one?”
“All of my dealings with others are impersonal. Do not fool yourself into believing otherwise. The moment you reach your majority, I shall wash my hands of you.”
Rude.
“Don’t you worry,” she shot back. “There’s no manner in which I’d rather spend my birthday than giving myself the present of leaving you.”
Gilbourne’s jaw tightened. “Good. Then our wishes align.”
She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “Good.”
The earl stalked off without another word.
Matilda wished she could call him back. Her words had been spoken in hurt and anger and embarrassment. His sharp dismissal of her in front of the servants had felt unnecessary and cruel.
Perhaps Augustin was wrong, and the earl was the sort of lord who considered servants no more human than candlesticks, if he thought of them at all.
Or maybe he thought Matilda had no more feelings than a piece of pewter.
