“Butlers don’t wear uniforms, they wear black,” the man observed.
“So, they do,” she said thoughtfully. “You see, you already know more about the job than I do! You’re going to be splendid. We just need to find you some clothes.”
“I can take care of that.”
“You can? But if you can find clothes worthy of a butler, then why do you dress in rags?”
“Because no one’s going to give money to a well-dressed beggar, now are they?” he said reasonably.
She nodded. “You’re very wise.” She glanced out the window. “Here we are,” she announced as the carriage slowed.
She almost thought there was a trace of hesitation in her companion, but he opened the door and let down the steps, moving out first so he could assist her down. For a man who lived on the streets, he was very adept at gentlemanly gestures, and she looked up at him in sudden suspicion.
“You’re not some nobleman in disguise, are you?” she asked. “Some foreign prince or bastard son of the king or something like that?”
He appeared amused. “Not that I know of. Why do you ask?”
“Because you seem to know what you’re doing. I won’t have anything to teach you in your new position.”
“You’re not really that familiar with all the things a butler does, are you?” he said.
“Well, I suppose not, but...”
“Then you’ll just have to hope I catch on quickly. Perhaps your cook will help me.”
“Bertha? She always fights with the butlers.”
Again, that flash of smile in his dark face. “I’m very easy to get along with.”
“You know, you are,” she said, thinking about it. For all she knew, she might have brought a criminal into the house, but she couldn’t summon up any misgivings. There was something about him that just felt...right. She couldn’t bear to think of him disappearing into the slums again. “I think my parents are going to love you.”
“It’s always possible. Your sister despises me.”
“Oh, fiddlesticks!” she said. “Norah despises everything. She’s been sulking ever since we came to London, and I don’t see why, since she’s the toast of society with every man falling at her feet. But she’s not interested. Not that it matters. The family is going to be very pleased with me for bringing home a new butler.” She started up the front steps, but he didn’t move, and she stopped to look back at him, sudden worry assailing her. “Aren’t you coming with me?”
“Butlers don’t enter the front door, Miss Georgiana, they use the servants’ entrance.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, of course they do. All right, we’ll use the servants’ entrance,” she said cheerfully, taking his arm and leading him along the sidewalk to the iron gate.
“You’re supposed to use the front entrance.”
“You’re going to be perfect at this,” she said encouragingly, patting his arm. “You already know all these little details. And there’s no use for me to use the front entrance since we have no butler to open the door for me. I’d just have to rouse the household and then I’d have to explain you and it would all be incredibly tiresome. We’ll spring you on them in the morning—you’ll be a lovely surprise.”
“I’m not much for springing,” he said wryly.
“Oh, they’ll love you. And most likely they’ll love you a lot better after you’re bathed and shaved and wearing decent clothes.” She took a deep, happy breath. “This is almost like Cinderella!”
“Cinderella?” he echoed, sounding puzzled.
“A fairy tale,” she clarified. “About a girl who lives in rags and cinders, which is where she got her name, and her fairy godmother arrives and dresses her in a beautiful gown and sends her to a ball where she meets the prince and falls madly in love with him. I’m your fairy godmother.”
“I don’t have to marry a prince, do I?” he drawled.
There it was again, the flash of humor. It wasn’t very butler-like but she laughed anyway. “No, but you will have to shave yourself, unless Bertha volunteers, but I wouldn’t let her if I were you, because she’s got a bad temper and she’d probably cut your throat.”
“I can manage.” They’d reached the side basement door, and he looked down at her. “This is where we part.”
“No, it isn’t. I can’t get in the front door, remember?”
