Before he could knock, John answered.
“My lord.” He bowed. “I’ll announce you.” John didn’t waste time, simply opened the door, stepped aside, and then proceeded down the hall to notify Heathcliff of his arrival.
Ramsey had the temptation to simply follow John down the hall; Lord only knew how many times Heathcliff had ignored Ramsey’s butler and interjected himself into his home unannounced, and often even unwanted.
Bloody frustrating.
Ramsey waited, choosing manners over gratification. And his patience was rewarded by a quick return of John with an application for Ramsey to follow him down the hall to the parlor.
Heathcliff was in his study, as Ramsey had assumed due to the hour, and as such, Ramsey was quite at ease with the familiarity of his surroundings.
“What did you want, old chap? Since it’s been less than twenty-four hours since I last saw you, I suspect there’s something on your mind.” Heathcliff leaned back in his chair, hands folded behind his head, the picture of utter ease.
Ramsey arched a brow, but took a seat across from his friend. The door clicked shut behind him, signaling the departure of John. “He’s a far sight better than Wilkes,” Ramsey started.
Heathcliff chuckled, his eyes squinting slightly with the force of his grin. “Ach, don’t be saying such things. You know that Wilkes has the best intentions. He’s a good butler.”
“He is, but I do think you made the right choice in employing John to take over his position temporarily. Wilkes is surely enjoying his little vacation in Bath.”
“I’m sure I’ve ruined him for work forever, blast it all. It was Samantha’s idea, you know. After I said I was planning on hiring a guard for the door, she inquired about the current butler, and well, she’s a softhearted lass. Especially when I said how long he’d been with the family.”
“I’m surprised he stepped down.”
“I was too, but then I learned he was getting awfully arthritic. Of course, that was when Samantha decided on the whole season in Bath for him.” Heathcliff shook his head. “Who ever heard of sending a butler to Bath?”
“Only us.” Ramsey chuckled.
“Aye, only us. Let’s keep it that way. Or else I’ll have servants making demands.”
“Yes, Mrs. Marilla. I still can’t believe she puts up with you,” Ramsey remarked with humor.
“She’s dealt with far worse than I, though I think my wife was surprised by someone so fair and young.”
“Age isn’t always the number of your years, my friend.”
“Isn’t that the truth. Mrs. Marilla is at least eighty at heart. Poor lass. The least I can do is give her honest employment. She deserves far more.”
“But she’s happy with safety,” Ramsey added, his mind flickering back to when they’d found her.
Literally.
It was after a particularly rowdy party at Temptations. They’d locked up after dispatching the last guest at dawn, and then taken account from the night before. They were finishing up their duties when a servant boy came in, his face white.
“There’s a girl in the alley, dead!” The boy was panting, and Lucas stepped forward, asking the boy the particulars.
When the boy didn’t answer, Lucas shared a look with the other two, and they all walked out into the morning light.
It wasn’t a memory Ramsey liked to revisit.
Orphaned, abused, and then beaten, Mrs. Marilla had only made it as far as the alley before collapsing.
But that was long ago, and Mrs. Marilla had overcome much in the past ten years. Her loyalty was unwavering to each of them, and as such, she had proven many times an excellent spy. It wasn’t the usual employment for a woman, but Mrs. Marilla had an uncanny ability to tear down people’s defenses and ferret out information.
“Ramsey, are you even paying attention?” Heathcliff snapped his fingers, and Ramsey blinked.
“Sorry. Damn it all, I need to figure out a way to get some sleep.”
Heathcliff paused, then tipped his head ever so slightly. His gaze grew empathetic. “Are you still having the dreams?”
