“Mrs. Greer told me to shout for her because Mary Louise dismantled the bell system for a good greasing.” Matthew glared right back at her. “You know very well that I treat my servants like people and not property.”
Fortuity arched a brow and turned back to the housekeeper. “What say you, Mrs. Greer?”
The matron chortled and clapped her beefy hands together. “I am quite happy here, Lady Fortuity, and I thank you for making it come about.” She chortled again, much like a contented hen settling into the nest. “Although this house could use a fine mistress to see to the running of it.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Greer,” Matthew said. “Tea in the parlor, please. And also, please let Mrs. Sykesbury know our guests have arrived.”
Her eyes bright and twinkling, Mrs. Greer nodded, then gave Fortuity a wink. “Aye, my lord. Right away.”
“Since Thebson has yet to reappear and tend to his duties, allow me to help you with your cloaks, ladies.” Matthew gave Grace a strained smile as he accepted her outerwear and hat. “My word, how long did he keep the two of you standing on the step? This cloak is quite wet.”
“It’s not entirely Thebson’s fault,” Grace said. “Tutie kept trying to turn tail and run.” She aimed a smug look at Fortuity. “I had to convince her to stay.”
With Grace’s damp things draped over his arm, Matthew slowly turned to Fortuity with a look she could only describe as hurt. “Is that true?”
Fortuity squared her shoulders. “I was merely concerned about leaving our people and horses exposed to the dreadful weather.” She shot Grace a warning glare. They would discuss her traitorous behavior later.
Matthew piled Grace’s things on the entryway bench and moved to help Fortuity with hers. “Are you being truthful?” he asked so quietly she almost didn’t hear him.
She flipped her cloak off so quickly that he almost dropped it. “I do hope my stories haven’t drawn damp. Where are they, so I might check them?”
Before he answered, a thunderous pounding rumbled down the stairs. A snorting, barking fury of tawniness sped past her, slowing long enough to latch on to her fur muff, snatch it from her hand, and charge down the hallway with it.
“Come back here, you!” Fortuity gave chase while Grace shrieked with laughter.
“Ignatius!” Matthew roared. “Halt. Sit.”
The thieving pug skidded to a stop and plopped down on his plump behind, black face wrinkling with pride as he woofed around the mouthful of Fortuity’s furry handwarmer.
“Oh dear. Ignatius,” Mrs. Sykesbury called out from the base of the stairwell. “Bad, bad puppy. Shame on you.”
Fortuity moved to recover her stolen goods, and the teasing little dog skittered back, staying just out of reach. His bulging brown eyes lent such a comical look to his joyful expression that she couldn’t help but laugh. “Give it back, you little terror, or I shall be forced to set Gracie on you. She knows how to handle naughty puppies.”
“Ignatius.” Matthew pointed at the floor. “Drop it. Now.”
The dog shook with another muffled woof, revealing his reluctance to obey.
“Drop it,” commanded Matthew in a sterner tone. “Now.”
The muff hit the floor, and Fortuity almost swore she heard the little animal give a disgruntled snort. She hurried to recover the even damper hand warmer. “Thank you, Ignatius.”
The playful scamp wiggled his curly little tail and smiled.
Gracie rushed forward, dropped to her knees, and patted her hands together. “Come see me, you handsome boy. Thanks to you, this visit might just be bearable.”
“Thank you, Lady Grace,” Matthew said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
“You are quite welcome.” Grace scooped the dog up into her arms and glanced up the hallway. “Which way to the parlor?”
Matthew nodded at the second set of double doors, then narrowed his eyes at the butler hurrying toward them. “The ladies’ outer garments are wet with rain, Thebson. See that Mary Louise tends to them, and moving forward, you will clarify which task I wish you to attend to first, since you appear unable to sort that out for yourself.”
The butler tucked his chin, seeming to wilt before them. “Yes, my lord. I do beg your pardon for mishandling my duties.”
“Don’t be cross with him,” Fortuity whispered. “He’s older and probably cannot help it. Like our Walters at Broadmere.”
With his jaw clenched, Matthew stared down at her a moment longer than necessary.
Please?she mouthed.
