He watched her slyly. “What good does it do indeed?”
“Is that a dog? In my house?” An older woman with silver hair piled high on her head and dressed in elegant finery had entered the room. She stood with a disapproving frown looking down at Peaches. She’d raised one hand to her chest, revealing heavy rings upon her white and powdery-looking fingers. Unfortunately, she bent over and began shaking one of those fingers admonishingly at Tilde’s rather sensitive little pooch.
Peaches, a most submissive animal, did not require angry reprimands. Ever. And if someone deigned to speak harshly to the pup…
“You may not want to do that–”
But it was too late. Peaches had already bent her back legs and squatted purposefully on what appeared to be a somewhat valuable Persian rug.
Tilde shrugged. If the woman chose to treat an animal thusly, well then…?
Lord Willoughby cleared his throat. “Miss Fortune, may I present my mother, Lady Willoughby. Mother, this is Miss Fortune. And I believe,” he turned a questioning glance toward Tilde. “Althea and Eloise’s new governess.”
If possible, the woman’s frown deepened even more.
Ignoring Tilde’s curtsey, Lady Willoughby pursed her lips. “I told you that Lady Birchenbich was willing enough to send her former help over. Is this really necessary? And a dog? Really Willoughby? The mongrel just ruined a carpet that’s been in the family for over three centuries.”
Jasper ran one hand through his hair and then proceeded to scrub it down his face. “I believe Miss Fortune can help Althea…”
“Oh posh! Nothing a little discipline cannot resolve.”
Tilde straightened her spine. This woman was Jasper’s mother. She was the twin’s grandmother.
“And I refuse to allow a dog in my house. I’m afraid Miss Fortune here is going to have to remove him at once.”
“Peaches is a lady.” Tilde inserted.
Jasper’s mother whirled her face around to glare daggers at Tilde.
And then she turned to Jasper once again.
But he was having none of his mother’s objections. “I’m afraid the decision has been made, and might I remind you mother, that this is my home? Althea responds well to the dog. Peaches is going to be a welcome addition to our household.”
Despite Tilde’s reservations, she couldn’t help but grin.
“As will be Miss Fortune.”
“Of course, it is your home, darling.” Lady Willoughby landed a bejeweled claw on Jasper’s arm. “And of course, if you wish the dog to remain, we’ll make him most welcome.” And then she wrinkled her brow, as though remembering something.
She turned back to finally address Tilde. “Miss Fortune? You say? I believe I knew your parents. Didn’t they die under suspicious circumstances a few years back?” She stretched thin lips into a tight smile that Tilde mistrusted immediately.
Tilde’s parents, although members of the ton, had not exactly mingled with the highest sticklers. “They died in a carriage accident, eleven years ago, my lady.”
Lady Willoughby waved one hand in the air. “One must always speak kindly of the dead, mustn’t one?”
“Lucky for you.” Tilde answered beneath her breath.
“Pardon me?”
Without answering, Tilde scooped Peaches off the dampened carpet. Tilde had always been able to find something redeeming in even the most disagreeable of individuals—but in this instance, such a feat might prove to be impossible. Lady Willoughby didn’t so much seem to show affection for her son but as a desire to control him. And she showed no evidence of any fondness or warmth for her granddaughters. Tilde turned toward Lord Willoughby.
Not Jasper.
Not her first kiss.
But toward the man who was soon to be her employer. “When would you like me to start?”
“Would tomorrow be asking too much?” He winced at his own request. “As you’ve told me on more than one occasion…”
