“So I will be pilloried, but you will be praised?”
“I know. Completely unfair, but there it is. The strange and absurd world we inhabit.”
“There are times I don’t like it very much.”
“I seldom like it at all.” Max slowed the horses, and Kitty gazed over their ears at an elegant mansion. “This is yours?” She blinked. “It’s so close to town but…”
“Quite rural? Yes. I have discovered I prefer the sound of the country over the rancorous din of the city. Society would think that statement quite heinous, I know. But I’ve also discovered I don’t really care what anyone thinks…” He steered the carriage adroitly to the bottom of the front steps.
She closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the horses’ breaths, the slight rattle of their tack and the creak of the carriage springs as Max alighted. Then a bird woke up as the sky lightened, and his song was liquid joy to her ears. “Six months ago, Max, I would have thought you—well, not heinous, but perhaps a little insane. Now? I find myself in total agreement.”
His hand, warm as toast, covered hers on her knee and brought her out of her reverie. She looked down, just able to make out his features in the growing dawn light. His expression was serious, intense, as he surveyed her features as if cataloging them. She moved, allowing him to lift her to the ground.
“Welcome to my home, Kitty.” He nodded at the stable lad who had appeared to walk the horses away. “Let’s have breakfast. We have things to talk about, you and I.”
Kitty found she rather liked the sound of that, so she tucked her arm in his and allowed him to lead her up the steps and into Mowbray House.
*~~*~~*
Max was pleased to note nary a flicker of an eyebrow on the part of his faithful butler as he opened the door to his master and their guest. “Good morning, sir. Madam.”
“Hello, Deery. Breakfast ready?”
They passed over their coats and Max noticed Kitty blink when she heard his butler’s name. His lips quirked, but he let it pass.
“In the small drawing room, sir. The fire has been lit, so I believe you’ll find it comfortable.”
“Excellent.” He offered his arm to Kitty. “Shall we?”
“Indeed.” She smiled at Deery. “Thank you.”
“Miss,” he bowed, not a fold of his clothes out of place, or any movement that might indicate the strangeness of her visit or the unusual hour.
He certainly upheld the Seton-Mowbray tradition of unflappability.
He was also completely accurate, since the room into which Max led Kitty was quite snug in spite of the cold pre-dawn air outside.
She grinned at him. “Deery?”
He sighed. “Yes. Harcourt Milton Deery. And his name has been the source of more amusement than you can possibly imagine for as long as I can remember. The jests never end.”
“It could have been worse, I suppose.” She pursed her lips. “Sweetie? Or Precious?”
He shook his head. “Yes, those kinds of jests. And worse.”
“But he seems magnificently…butlerish…in spite of it…?”
“He is, and always has been, the best butler I’ve ever met. So regardless of his name, I shall not hear a word against him.”
“And you won’t. Not from me, anyway.” She glanced around her. “How lovely.” She smiled at the soft shades of yellow and green covering the walls and matched the carpet beneath her feet.
“My mother’s doing. This was one of her favorite rooms in the winter.”
“I can see why.” Kitty wandered to the arched windows and gazed out on the gardens, shadowed still as darkness lingered.
“Come, let’s eat before it gets cold.” Max walked to a small sideboard and lifted lids, sniffing and grabbing a rasher of bacon with a guilty grin.
“All right.” Kitty joined him and filled her plate, taking it to the table set not far from the fireplace. “You must enjoy rising each morning if this is how you break your fast.” She shook out a napkin and neatly placed it on her knees.
