"Very well," Edmund's grin was back. "My mistake. This is clearly the normal dynamic between a duke and his... what is your official position, Miss Whitfield?"
"Housekeeper," Clara said firmly.
"Temporary housekeeper," Gabriel corrected.
"Who lives in the house?"
"In the servants' quarters."
"Which are in the main house because you dismissed all the staff and closed the servants' wing."
"Details."
Edmund was practically vibrating with glee. "Oh, this is delightful. Gabriel, you've actually found someone who argues back."
"I pay her to argue back."
"No, you pay her to clean. The arguing is, what did she call it? An unfortunate addition to proximity."
"You're enjoying this far too much," Gabriel observed.
"I haven't enjoyed anything this much since you fell off your horse trying to impress the Weatherby twins."
"That was many years ago."
"And yet, still hilarious."
Clara finished the last of the apple tart and stood. "Gentlemen, as delightful as this has been, I have work to do."
"The library's done for today," Gabriel said.
"The morning room, then."
"Also done."
Clara frowned. She'd cleaned both rooms yesterday. They couldn't possibly need attention already unless…
"Did you go through and deliberately mess them up?"
Gabriel sipped his brandy innocently. “Pray, forgive me, but I do not apprehend your meaning.”
"You did! You went and undid my work!"
"Prove it."
"You're impossible."
"I'm thorough. I wanted to make sure you'd cleaned properly. You hadn't."
"I had!"
"The dust behind the portrait of my great-grandfather would disagree."
"That portrait is eight feet high!"
"And yet, dusty."
Edmund whistled low. "Gabriel, Your conduct is uncommonly coarse, even for your customary behaviour!”
