Which was exactly what he was doing—and none of Danvers’s business.
“Don’t you have some butlering to do, Danvers? Or must you always be skulking about, peering over my shoulder?”
He folded his burly arms over his chest. “I urge you to reconsider what it is you are doing, Major.”
Teddy leaned back in Georgina’s chair to contemplate Danvers. “Why is that? I’m doing nothing wrong, here. What’s hers is mine, etcetera, etcetera.”
“You’re opening Pandora’s box, is what you’re doing.”
“I’m doing nothing of the sort.” He resumed his reading, hoping the butler would take the hint and depart from him.
“Do you recall Genesis, Lord Arlington?”
He huffed in annoyance and looked up at the big man. “What sort of question is that? I’ve lost my memories, not my mind. Not yet at any rate,” he finished on a mutter.
Danvers arched a supercilious brow.
“Yes,” Teddy hissed. “Yes, by God, I recall Genesis. What of it?”
“Does the tree of knowledge ring any bells?”
He sneered. “My wife is God in this illustration?”
“My point is, pilfering around in her private things is not only wrong, it may have unwelcome consequences.”
He narrowed his eyes in warning. “Such as?”
“Such as reading something that displeases you, sir. What will you do in that event?”
“What do you mean, ‘what will I do’?”
Instead of answering, Danvers posed another question. “Will you turn your back on the lady? Attempt to cast her aside? Deny your marriage, out of hand? You are, you understand, well and truly married.”
“Cast her aside? My wife? Are you mad?” He would never. He could never. The mere thought of Georginanothis enraged him.
A look of satisfaction crossed the butler’s hard features. “I’m gratified by your response, my lord.”
Teddy scoffed. “You’ve no idea how that warms the very cockles of my heart.”
Danvers cast one more disparaging look over the desktop. “Mark my words, you’ll regret this.” He turned to leave.
“Close the doors on your way out, Danvers. I wish not to be disturbed again.”
He did, using, by Teddy’s estimation, more force than necessary.
Teddy eyed the closed doors, and found himself grinning.
The truth was, he’d grown rather fond of Mr. Danvers. He liked his forthright style and slight edge of moral superiority. He liked the way the man stood for what he perceived as just, even when that opinion did not bode well for his future. In short, he trusted the man—not that he intended to admit as much.
Returning his focus to the open notebook, he reflected that Danvers was probably right. He oughtn’t be reading through Georgina’s notes without her express permission—which, experience told him, she would not give.
Which begged the question. Whyever not? What didn’t she want him to see?
Georgina used thehours closed up with her mother en route to London to grill her, first about her own father’s illness, then about Teddy’s father’s supposed health condition.
As for her Papa, her mother would say little beyond repeating that he’d developed a chest ailment, likely resulting from his diminished spirits.
She shed a bit more light on the earl. According to her sources—the servants—he had some sort of apoplexy one evening while imbibing his after supper port. The doctor had been called in, and the earl had been consigned to his bed chamber ever since. The usual treatments had ensued. Rest. Weak tea and broth. Bleeding.
