Marcus further relayed that Shrimps, cheeky little thing that he was, insisted that he must stay in the kitchens. He was determined to be a cook someday. It was his lifelong dream, he said.
Matthew found that rather rich, as his life had only gone on for seven or eight years so far.
Marcus explained that Genroy questioned Shrimps rather close about this lifelong dream of his, and it seemed his reasons were twofold: one, a cook was always nearby food, and two, a cook was always nearby a fire.
“So here we are,” Marcus said, “Cook has got a boy and a dog in the kitchens and he does not have the first idea what to do with them.”
“Not the first idea?” Matthew said. “Put the boy to work.”
“AndOyster, as that uncouth canine is now called?”
“If the dog is content to sleep by the fire and be fed on scraps and gets in nobody’s way, it may stay. If not, it must go. Tell Shrimps to keep him in line or they’re both out. That should put the fear of God in him.”
Marcus nodded and gave a little sniff, no doubt disappointed that Shrimps and Oyster were not on their way out this very minute.
His valet picked up the rumpled coat that had been part of his ridiculous soldier’s uniform from the evening before.
Matthew said, “I will cheer you up, Marcus. Conbatten’s valet could only manage a domino last evening. The annoying Henri will have nothing to brag of.”
This did, to Matthew’s amusement, appear to cheer his valet quite a bit.
“I knew it,” he said victoriously.
“Conbatten had the effrontery to collect Lady Beatrice’s card,” Matthew went on, “which I snatched right out of his hand.”
Marcus was nearly transported by this piece of news. “Snatched. I only wonder what the insufferable and puffed-up Henri will say to that!”
“I expect he will say nothing, as the duke will not be in a mood to brag of it.”
“And I suppose the great Conbatten did not have the nerve to make you answer for the insult,” Marcus said, looking very pleased. “All show, just as I thought.”
“He did not challenge me because Lady Beatrice implored him not to, though I informed her that I needed no such assistance.”
“Did she step in like that?” Marcus said, sounding a little wistful.
“You know Lady Beatrice, she is not afraid to step in anywhere. The further problem is, she is seriously considering that fop who lounges in a bath half the day.”
“Lady Beatrice and Conbatten? Does she know about Henri, though?” Marcus asked. “Have you told her what sort of French blowhard that fellow is?”
“I have not,” Matthew said, as always confounded by why his valet seemed to believe that Beatrice would give a toss for anybody else’s valet.
“I’ve got to warn the duke off,” he said. “Somehow.”
“Perhaps you could do it at the YBC masque on the morrow?”
Matthew put his coffee down and sat up. “Another masque? I just swore I would never attend another of those ridiculous things.”
“But it is Lord Darden’s event,” Marcus said. “You did say you would go. The Benningtons might be very put out if you did not attend, and then who knows what the duke would be up to, left to his own devices.”
Matthew groaned. “At least get me a domino,” he said.
“My lord, it is Lord Darden’s masque. Remember, one must come as something ridiculous.”
Matthew eyed the crumpled soldier’s uniform. “So I am to be stuck in that again.”
“I do not believe so,” Marcus said. “Lord Darden said he would arrange a costume.”
“Well, isn’t that wonderful news. He is so trustworthy; I am sure he will choose something suitable.”
