"Even the employees he never visits?"
"Especially those. Distance makes him more suspicious, not less."
"He sounds delightful."
"He's efficient," Alaric said, then felt odd defending himself to himself. "And he pays well."
"When he remembers to pay at all. The household budget has been three months late for the past two years."
Alaric made a mental note to have sharp words with his London steward. Out loud, he said, "I'll look into that."
"Would you? Mrs. Appleby will be grateful. She's been buying supplies on credit."
The door opened again, and Mrs. Morrison bustled in with a tea tray that seemed to have more cakes than any three people could reasonably eat.
"Here we are!" she announced. "Fresh tea and some of Marianne's lovely cakes from this morning. You must try the seed cake, Mr. Fletcher. Marianne has a particular way with seed cake."
"I'm sure she does," Alaric said, eyeing the cake with the suspicion of a man who'd once been poisoned by a similar-looking dessert at a county ball.
"Oh, don't look at it like it might bite," Marianne said. "It's just cake."
"In my experience, nothing is as it seems."
"Your experience with cake sounds traumatic."
"You weren't at Lady Rhodes's summer gathering three years ago. The cucumber sandwiches achieved independent thought."
Marianne laughed while Mrs. Morrison looked shocked. "Lady Rhodes? The London Lady Rhodes?"
"Yes," Alaric said, then realized a steward probably wouldn't have attended Lady Rhodes's gatherings. "I was there on business. With my previous employer."
"Oh, how exciting! You must tell us all about London society, Mr. Fletcher. We get so little news here."
"London society is ninety percent tedium and ten percent scandal, with occasional intervals of bad music."
"How thrilling! Which ten percent did you witness?"
"Mostly the tedium, I'm afraid. Though I did once see a duchess throw a dinner roll at an ambassador."
"No!" both women exclaimed in unison.
"It was quite expertly done. Hit him right in the monocle."
"But why?" Marianne asked, leaning forward with interest.
"He suggested her musical evening had been 'ambitious.' In duchess-speak, that's basically a declaration of war."
"And she responded with bread warfare?"
"It was either that or challenge him to a duel, and dueling is so messy. Much better to stick with baked goods."
"I'll remember that next time someone criticizes my baking," Marianne said. "Though I'd probably use something harder than a dinner roll. My Tuesday loaves could probably breach castle walls."
"Your Tuesday loaves are perfectly fine," Mrs. Morrison protested.
"Mrs. Morrison, my Tuesday loaves have been classified as weapons by the local constable."
"That was only once, and Thomas deserved it for saying your cherry tart was soggy."
