“How did you do it at all?” he asked in bafflement. “When did you sleep?”
“He truly didn’t notice my absence,” Mrs. Harris said in wonder. “I don’t know if I should be offended for myself or thrilled for you, Matilda. I’ll settle on both.”
Miss Dodd hugged her. “I could not have done so without your guidance.”
“No touching,” Titus snapped.
“That’s your rule, not Mrs. Harris’s,” Matilda said without removing her embrace from his housekeeper.
Who impertinently hugged his ward right back.
“If you do anything like that again, I’ll give you the sack,” Titus warned Mrs. Harris. “No such decisions should have been made without consulting the master of the house.”
“Household decisions?” Mrs. Harris asked archly. “You explicitly entrusted the running of this house to me, which involves delegating as I see fit. I oversee both the upstairs and the downstairs maids—”
“My ward is not a maid!”
“—and as long as every task is completed according to your standards, you personally instructed me to use my judgment as required, and to refrain from bothering you unnecessarily. If you fear I’ve taken advantage monetarily, do not worry. I’ve already deducted the missing days from my wages.”
“Oh, keep the wages,” Titus grumbled. “And cease the pontificating. Go and do whatever it is that you should have been doing all along. I need to speak to my ward.”
Mrs. Harris curtseyed and hurried off—but not before tossing a wink at Miss Dodd, who fluttered her eyelashes at Titus winningly.
How could he possibly maintain his pique when assaulted with a smile as beautiful as that?
“You wanted to see me?” his ward asked innocently.
He glared at her. “Your papers are in order.”
Her forehead furrowed. “What papers?”
“Your inheritance papers. The funds will be in an account in your name when the banks open tomorrow morning. You’ll wake up a fully independent woman.”
Her smile faltered. “I see.”
“We’re almost out of each other’s hair,” he added.
“You were never in my hair,” she said softly. “I’ve enjoyed my time with you.”
So had he. But the words were lodged deep inside his heart, which was walled in with stones so heavy, even Titus could not find a way through.
“I suppose I should pack.” She glanced toward the stairs. “Buttons will help me.”
“You can take her.”
“Thank you. I think she might like that. And I’ll appreciate a friendly face.”
Titus turned his away. No one had ever accused his visage of being appealing. Or friendly.
“I might as well leave after breakfast,” she offered. “It’s a long drive back home.”
“Stay through teatime,” he said quickly. The guests were supposed to arrive in the morning, but to the ton, “morning” could mean one or two o’clock in the afternoon.
“Teatime,” she repeated. “All right. I suppose I could do that.”
He didn’t want her to leave at all. He wanted her to stay for breakfast and tea and supper, and keep staying until his birthday, and then stay to her next birthday, and every day after that. He wanted to take that key ring from Mrs. Harris, then lock himself and Miss Dodd in his bedchamber and never come out again, Parliament be damned.
God help him, Titus couldn’t bear to lose her. But nor could he stop her. She was free now.
