“Haven’t you done enough harm for one day, Lord Devereaux?”
I ought to have you dismissed for insubordination.
She glared at his hand gestures. “Dismiss me and be damned,” she said. “Do you honestly think Mr. Carlton has been behaving inappropriately toward your wife?”
“Mrs. Brougham,” Carlton began, I hardly think—”
“And you can be quiet, Gerald.”
Gerald?
Carlton flinched and nodded in acquiescence.
John let out a chuckle.
I fail to see what’s so bloody amusing.
“Then you’re doubly blind, sir,” the valet said. “I think we may be assured that Mr. Carlton has no designs on your wife. For one thing, he values his position as your steward too highly, and for another, hevalues his balls.”
Does he think I’ll cut them off?
“Whatever punishment you dole out will be nothing compared to Mrs. Brougham’s.”
Charles frowned and turned his attention to the housekeeper, who was giving Carlton a look of frustration combined with not a little affection.
You mean my housekeeper and steward are…?
Charles made a random gesture, unwilling to articulate his suspicion.
“Isn’t it obvious?” John said. “Even the biggest simpleton would have noticed the way he gazes at her like a lovesick puppy. But an even bigger simpleton would harbor suspicions about your wife.”
In truth, I had no suspicions about her.
“Then why display such anger? Couldn’t you see how eager she was to greet you?”
Charles had to admit that his wife’s expression had carried a sheen of joy. But surely that couldn’t have been due to his returning?
I’m not angry at her.He let out a sigh before continuing.I’m angry because she continues to speak of her birth as if she believes it makes her worthless.
He turned to Carlton.
I’m angry because she felt she had to deceive me with your assistance.
The steward shook his head. “I don’t understand…”
“But I do,” Mrs. Brougham said. “Perhaps, your lordship, you should ask your wife what she’s been occupying herself with during your absence before you cast judgment.”
Charles glanced in the direction Olivia had fled. He took a step forward, and the housekeeper caught his sleeve.
“No, sir. Let me. I’ll not have her any more upset.” She gestured to the coachman. “Well? Don’t just sit there! Bring in his lordship’s trunks.”
Mumbling assent, the coachman climbed down and unloaded thetrunks.
“Perhaps you’d like to take your luncheon,” Mrs. Brougham said. “It should be all ready in the dining room. I’ll see if Lady Devereaux wishes to join you. Mr. Richards, would you be so kind as to accompany Lord Devereaux while I see to her ladyship?”
“Of course.” John caught Charles’s wrist. “There’s no good in your going after her, sir. Leave it to Mrs. Brougham. In any case, when you wish to earn the trust of a nervous filly, you don’t rush out into the field and tether her right away. You wait for her to come to you.”
Charles followed his valet inside, pausing to glance at the foot of the stairs, then he entered the dining room, where two footmen milled about, placing dishes of food on the table. In the center of the table was an enormous pie, the pastry golden brown and glistening in the sunlight. The top was decorated with motifs that had been fashioned into the shapes of vines and roses, curling around the body of the pie. The detail was exquisite, right down to the markings on the leaves and the thorns adorning the rose stems.
