“She only has to manage you,” said Griffin. “I don’t care—” He stopped because in point of fact hedidcare. “Not manage herself wellhow? Speak plainly, Miss Cole, else I will put my own construction upon it.”
“It pains me to speak ill of her, but she is a gossip and engages in flirtations.” She could have added that Molly Dillon was barely adequate as a lady’s maid, but it seemed a harsh judgment and Breckenridge was sure to inquire why she hadn’t been dismissed already. Olivia did not want to tell him that she simply hadn’t the heart for it. It did not bear thinking what he would make of that aspect of her character. “Dillon might prove to be an unsettling presence.”
That would make two of them, Griffin thought.Bloody hell.“Very well. I will ask Truss to inquire after a more circumspect female, though where he will find one in this part of London is a mystery to me. It is my good fortune that it will be his problem. As butler, it falls on him to make those choices.”
“How convenient for you.”
Nothing in her tone suggested sarcasm, and Griffin allowed that she was able to make her point without it. It was his unhappy observation that too often people were compelled to underscore their meaning with a certain heaviness of inflection, especially those of his acquaintance who mistook sarcasm for witticism. He made a point to avoid their company as the comments from those impoverished minds failed to amuse him.
The door rattled, drawing his attention to it. “Enter!” A pair of lads from the kitchen hurried into the room. “So it fell to the two of you to manage this bit of business. You have must have sorely displeased Cook.”
They ducked their heads in unison and mumbled something about a meat pie as they set about wiping the floor and carrying off the dish cover. The younger one, a boy of ten with a gap-toothed smile and a smudge of freckles and something else across his cheeks, politely asked Olivia to set her right foot forward. “It’s just that I’m noticing a bit of muck here, miss. Don’t want you bothered by it later.”
Olivia raised her hem just enough that she could see what he did. Cheeks flaming, she pushed the foot forward as he’d asked. It was quickly wiped clean.
“Thank you, miss.” The gap-toothed grin was gone as he made a last swipe at the floor and folded his large rag around the offending bits of egg and toast. He took a brush from the water pail he’d carried in and just as efficiently dealt with the stain on the carpet. “Like it never happened,” he said. “Once the water dries, that is.” He turned his shoulder so Breckenridge could cast a glance at the spot. “Is it all right by you, m’lord?”
“It is.” Griffin tipped his head toward the door. “Go on. Both of you. Leave the teapot, though. And both cups. Take the rest.”
The second lad pushed his tongue to the corner of his mouth as he carefully balanced the tray while removing the delicate teapot and china. That little pink tongue disappeared once he’d accomplished the task. He bobbed his flaxen head in acknowledgment of his dismissal and hurried to follow his compatriot into the hallway.
Olivia thought she spied a hint of amusement in the shape of Breckenridge’s mouth. She couldn’t be certain as she only caught it in profile as the boys were taking hasty leave of him. The speed of their retreat probably had something to do with the stolen meat pie, but whether they were hurrying away from his lordship’s discipline or racing for the pie while it was still warm was something Olivia did not expect that she would ever know.
Griffin returned to the chair behind his desk and lifted his teacup. “I would consider it a rare piece of luck in this morning’s work if we were not visited by another interruption until the physician arrives.”
It put Olivia in something of a bind to make any response at all. She would welcome a series of interruptions as long as none of them was the physician. She suspected he knew it well enough, so she forbade to comment.
“Will you take tea now?”
“I believe I will.”
“Whiskey?” Griffin rescinded the offer when he saw her blanch. “Perhaps not.” He poured her a cup without benefit of cream or sugar and slid it across the desk toward her.
Olivia reached for it, tempted to push her tongue to the corner of her mouth to aid in balancing the saucer and cup in the same way the kitchen lad had sought to balance the tray. “Thank you.” She was gratified to see the cup didn’t tremble as she lifted it to her lips. The taste of it was welcome, washing away the unpleasantness that lingered in her mouth and throat.
“I should like to discuss your brother’s marker,” Griffin said. “You realize that’s what it is, don’t you?”
She nodded. “I’m familiar with the term. I’m afraid I don’t understand the whole of what happened. He lost money at your games, that much is clear, though why you permitted him to amass such a debt is not. Did you not make a point earlier that you knew your patrons?”
“I wasn’t present, else it would not have occurred. I had to be away from town that evening. It was upon my return that Mrs. Christie informed me of what had transpired.”
“Mrs. Christie?”
“A friend,” he said shortly. “She is sometimes called upon to observe the play in my absence.”
Olivia thought she should refrain from advancing any observations regarding Mrs. Christie. Though she dearly wondered if the woman was a partner in Breckenridge’s business, she did not put the question to him either.
“She did not know the extent of Mr. Cole’s existing debt until she laid the whole of the evening’s play before me. I take responsibility for the oversight, but not responsibility for the debt. That is your brother’s.”
Olivia did not argue the point. He was right. “It is difficult to imagine that Alastair willingly parted with the ring. As he mentioned, it is an heirloom.”
“He told me it belonged to his father.”
“Yes. And his father before, and so on. That is what qualifies it as an heirloom.”
Griffin thought she delivered her darts with a gentle touch. He would check himself for wounds later. “Yes, well, he didn’t precisely offer,” he admitted. “He didn’t resist either.”
“Were you threatening to cut off his finger?”
