“I’m well aware of that,” her husband said stiffly.
“Must we talk about money all the time?” Neddy emerged from his semi-stupor to complain. “There’s nothing we can do about it, so we may as well not think about it. It’s depressing.”
“May I point out that your gambling has contributed to our current impecunious circumstances?” Norah said icily.
“Mother has high gaming debts as well.” His voice was sulky.
“I must admit you’re right, Neddy darling.” Liliane brightened. “Your father was complaining about my gambling bills for at least a year before he lost everything on that bubble thing. But that’s neither here nor there because Norah’s going to marry someone fabulously wealthy and then there won’t be any problem. Will there, dear?”
She directed her last question to her husband, who simply made a choking sound and rolled his eyes.
Rafferty allowed himself a covert glance at Norah, and she wasn’t looking any too pleased with this future, but for once, she said nothing. She was still focusing on her sister.
“I think it’s dangerous to bring perfect strangers in and give them the running of the household,” Norah said. “Who knows, we all may be murdered in our beds!”
“Oh, I don’t think Rafferty’s a murderer,” Liliane said brightly. “If he was, I suspect we would be dead already. And just think of all the lovely things he’s brought us. I can’t remember how we ever survived without him.”
“We had a houseful of servants,” Norah said. “And indeed, I’m wondering how one man manages to accomplish so much.”
“Rafferty is wonderful!” Georgie snapped, clearly having forgotten her displeasure with him.
“I told you, Mother,” Norah purred. “Next thing you know, they’ll be off to Gretna Green and we’d never live down the shame of it.”
Georgie’s face flushed, and she glared at her sister. “You’re an absolute beast, Norah. Stop being so hateful.”
“I’m not being hateful, just honest,” Norah said with spurious concern. “This family can’t afford any kind of scandal if I’m to marry some titled nabob.” She didn’t sound particularly pleased by the idea.
“Well, why don’t you just do it instead of talking about it,” Georgie shot back. “Haven’t you been in society long enough? Much more time and people will start to wonder what’s wrong with you, that you haven’t secured a match.”
“Mother!” Nora cried in protest.
“Apologize to your sister, Georgie.”
“I’d rather die,” she said, rising dramatically and stalking from the room.
It took everything he had not to follow Georgie with his eyes when she left the dining room, but he was an expert at keeping his face impassive. It was never good to betray any emotion when it came to his line of work, his real line of work, that was, and his implacability served him well as the Mannings’ substitute butler.
“Oh, go after her, Rafferty,” Liliane cried. “I can’t bear to see her so upset.”
“He’s not going anywhere,” Sir Elston thundered.
“Of course, he is! Georgie adores him—I vow she hasn’t been this taken with anyone since her spaniel died. He’ll cheer her up.”
Rafferty was sorely tempted to bark, but he kept his expression stoic, not moving as Sir Elston and Liliane devolved into a restrained shouting match. Neddy slid lower in his seat—another glass or two of the fine claret Rafferty had been able to procure and he’d be on the floor—and Norah simply preened, her work done for the evening.
He wasn’t paying attention to the battle royale until Sir Elston finally addressed him. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go after her. But if you put one finger on her, I’ll horsewhip you myself.”
So Lady Manning had won. It wasn’t the order he’d been hoping for, but he could hardly refuse.
“Yes, sir.”
“And do cheer her up!” Lady Manning added. “Never let it be said that I am anything but the most doting mother. We prevailed upon our hosts to include her in the invitation for tonight, and it would appear quite dreadful if she failed to come.” Lilliane made a slight gesture, and he came forward and filled her wine glass as well as that of her son, silently cursing. It was already clear he’d have to transport Neddy upstairs and get him into his night gear—he hardly fancied doing the same with his mother.
“Go along with you now, Rafferty.” Lady Manning made a shooing gesture. “Cheer the poor girl up.”
He had no choice, and he was hardly going to argue. With a slight bow, he left the room, in search of his wayward patron.
It took him a while to find her. To his great relief she hadn’t immured herself in her bedroom, but neither was she in the lady’s salon nor any of the other formal rooms. When he finally found her, she was in the place he should have looked first—in the kitchen, comfortably ensconced at the big table with a heaping plate of food in front of her.
