Martina and Bertha were with her, and neither of them evinced the slightest bit of surprise when he walked into the room.
“What took you so long?” Georgie asked.
“Your father was threatening to horsewhip me.” He took the seat opposite her and sank into it. The kitchen, unlike the rest of the house, was a democracy, and he had no intention of being on his formal best when he was there.
“And you were so frightened?” Georgie said. “My father wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“He might if someone he cared about were compromised.”
“Yes, but you don’t like Norah,” she pointed out.
“Don’t be deliberately obtuse. She’s not the only young woman in this household.”
“But she’s his favorite. She’s everyone’s favorite,” she said with a sigh.
The two women were quick with their demurrals. “She’s a bitch,” Martina summed it up nicely.
“A bitch?” Georgie was quite taken with the word. “I like that. May I use it?”
“No,” said Bertha, Martina, and Rafferty in unison.
Georgie shrugged. “Witch will do,” she said philosophically. “You weren’t really afraid of my father, were you?”
“He told me to go find you and cheer you up.”
“Oh.” There was no hiding her disappointment. “That’s good.”
“Apparently, I’m taking the place of your deceased spaniel,” he said dryly.
To his absolute horror, her blue eyes filled with unshed tears. “You couldn’t,” she said flatly.
“You’re making a mockery of the girl’s dead dog? Shame on yourself, Rafferty,” Martina said sternly.
“Told you he was no good,” Bertha muttered.
“All right, all right!” he protested. “I wasn’t mocking the dead dog, I was mocking being compared to it.”
“You’re a wretch,” Martina said with clear affection. “Pay him no mind, dearie.”
Georgie pushed her plate away, her appetite apparently gone. “You don’t really like my sister, do you?”
“It’s not my place to like or dislike her,” he replied carefully.
“She’s a snake,” Georgie said flatly.
“Aye, that she is,” Martina said.
“You’re not helping.” Rafferty gave her a disapproving glare, but Martina simply shrugged it off.
“No need to pretend she’s anything else,” Bertha said. “She’s always been a spoiled brat. Comes from being too pretty—everyone dotes on her.”
“Fortunately, that’s not my problem,” Georgie said, and Rafferty knew she wasn’t searching for compliments. “I’m the clever one.”
“You could have fooled me on that one,” Bertha said dampeningly.
“Well, Neddy drinks too much to be clever, and Norah’s more interested in what she looks like than what she knows.”
“Your sister’s no fool,” Bertha warned her.
