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“I wasn’t dismissed. I left when I saw that no advancement would be possible for me there.”

“Why not?”

He hesitated before replying. “A week after I was promoted to junior footman, a guest at teatime remarked to her ladyship that I didn’t look like the other footmen. My complexion was too dark. My hair wasn’t fine and fair. Footmen should match, she said, like a team of horses. Later that afternoon, the butler told me that from then on, I’d have to serve in a less visible position belowstairs or outside the house.”

“How unfair,” Reina exclaimed. “How cruel.”

“The concept of matching footmen is hardly unusual.”

“No, but you were led to believe you’d been given an opportunity, and then it was snatched away before you had a chance to prove yourself. I know how that feels.”

He stared at her intently, a notch appearing between his dark brows. “What’s your position here?” he asked brusquely. “Secretary? Companion?”

“Good heavens, didn’t I introduce myself? I’m Reina Martin.” She extended her hand for a friendly, businesslike shake.

Not only did the man not take her hand, he also sprang to his feet with the vigor of a sheep trying to avoid the dipping tub.

“You’re the economist?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said cheerfully.

“The mistress of this house?”

“Yes.”

Mr. Pembroke stared down at her as if she were a stubbornly knotted bootlace. “You opened your own door,” he eventually said, sounding almost accusatory. “And took my coat.”

“There was no one else to do it. Mr. Pembroke, won’t you sit back down, and we’ll—”

“No, ma’am.”

Reina blinked in surprise. “Why not?”

His reply was quiet but unyielding. “A butler never sits with the lady of the house.”

“But if I invite you to,” she said reasonably, “because it’s more convenient—”

“No, ma’am.”

“Mr. Pembroke, I think we can make an exception just this—”

“Pembroke,” he said. “The other servants will address me as Mr. Pembroke. But it’s just Pembroke to you.” At her expression, he continued, “Ma’am, I had no part in making the rules. However, if you decide to hire me, the running of this household must be done properly, or it will reflect on all of us.”

“The position is yours, if you want it,” Reina said. “But I don’t understand why we can’t sit together and talk. We’re equals, after all. You agree with that, don’t you?”

“I do. Nevertheless, we each have a place. The ear, eye, and foot have their own jobs to do, and none can substitute for the other.”

An invisible curtain had come down between them. He was being formal with her now, any hint of masculine interest or liking completely gone. It left her feeling a little crestfallen.

Pembroke studied her with those alert black eyes. “You’ve never had servants before,” he said rather than asked.

Reina shook her head. “Only a cookmaid who came during the day when I was young. Now her daughter, June, cooks for me.” She paused before adding, “June has always been my closest friend. Although I pay her a salary, she’s in no way a servant.”

“Aye, ma’am.”

“As for the others, I’m afraid their training amounted to little more than being given reading materials. Our driver, Mad Dog, is illiterate, so I’ve asked June to teach him, and so far—”

“What?” Pembroke interrupted. “His name is what?”