“Perhaps she will not venture to repeat her special evening showing off her animal collection, on account of last year’s fiasco.”
Grace really did think it likely that the lady would not wish to repeat the experience. Having one’s tiger on the loose and responsible for gravely injuring a guest could not be comfortable.
“Who knows what that old bat will do,” the duke said. “But as I did fill her front hall with two thousand pence and did throw a padlock through her window, we will probably not be welcome in any case.”
“Goodness, that was amusing. As to the invitations, I am sure I will be up to the task. Though, my aunt will not like it,” Grace said pensively.
“Yes, I know,” the duke said, laughing. “That’s the other advantage of it.”
Grace supposed that while Lady Marchfield would not like it, there would not be anything she could do about it. Further, it was an honor that her father placed the trust in her to manage it.
She swept up the piles of letters and put them on a side table. “I will go through them after dinner. I am sure my sisters would like to help me. You do suppose that Mr. Button will have arranged a dinner of some sort?”
The duke shrugged. “It hardly matters—Cook arrived days ago and would have sorted it all out. Meanwhile, Mrs. Right is just now downstairs with the staff. How I would like to hide behind a doorframe to hear what she’s got to say to Mr. Button!
*
MRS.RIGHT HADchuckled to herself when she’d set eyes on Mr. Button. If it came to a wrestling match, she could pin him to the ground in under a minute. How on earth had Lady Marchfield thought to send such a weak specimen to do battle with her?
She thought she understood Mr. Button’s type—he’d been all obsequiousness to the duke, and those types were the most insidious. They did not dare throw round any orders upstairs, but they made up for it when they were downstairs. She’d seen it in his eyes as he looked over the footmen as they descended from the duke’s carriage.
She would set out to make quick work of this butler and she would begin at once. The faster he could land himself in a house that needed a bossy butler, the happier he would be. In the end, it would be a kindness that she got rid of him.
Mrs. Right paused before turning the corner into the servants’ hall. Just as she had suspected, Mr. Button was busy making everything and everybody uncomfortable.
“Charlie, Thomas, as my two footmen, you will be expected to meet certain standards. When I say certain standards, I mean the highest standards. I will accept nothing less than perfection. As well, I must tell you that Lady Marchfield has painted you as lax in the extreme. I hope for your sakes that she has been led astray in that opinion. As for the kitchen staff, I will demand that everything be well-timed and to the duke’s liking. The maids of the house are to know that good enough is no longer good enough! I will tour the rooms on a regular basis, searching out dust in every corner. Do not let me find it. I will apprise Mrs. Right of that fact so there is to be no confusion about expectations.”
The highest standards indeed. He would apprise her of facts, would he? Time to throw the cold water of reality on this little dictator. Mrs. Right hurried into the servants’ hall. She stopped short and stared at Mr. Button.
“Mrs. Right?” he said in response to her stare.
She sniffed into the air as if she was deeply offended. “Sir, I do not like to be forced to speak so plainly, but there are those moments in a lady’s life where she is forced to speak plainly. You will of course know what I refer to.”
Clearly Mr. Button was put on his back foot by such a pronouncement. How could he be otherwise? There was nothing to refer to.
“I am sorry, Mrs. Right,” Mr. Button said. “But as you did mention speaking plainly, perhaps you would do so? I haven’t any idea what you are referring to.”
Mrs. Right huffed and turned to Charlie. The senior footman looked at her with arched brows, as if he could hardly believe what he was hearing. It was really very good acting as he’d been well-briefed on the game.
“You see which way the wind blows, Charlie?” she said. “He will pretend to know nothing.”
Charlie nodded. “Aye. Though we all saw it with our own two eyes.”
“Saw what?” Mr. Button said, the tone of alarm in his voice giving him away.
“It is really too much, Mr. Button!” Mrs. Right said. “The idea that you would attempt to confuse and bewilder a poor maiden. It is really beyond reason.”
“What poor maiden?” Mr. Button asked, looking round the room for a poor maiden of any description.
Mrs. Right pulled her shawl tight around her. Charlie said, “Come now, Mr. Button, we all saw you making eyes at our Mrs. Right when she alighted from the carriage.”
“What… making eyes?Youare the poor maiden? Mrs. Right, you are much mistaken! I have never made eyes at anyone in my life!”
Mrs. Right used all her self-control to stop from laughing, as she was very sure Mr. Button never had made eyes at anybody.
“Rest assured, Mr. Button,” Mrs. Right said gravely, “you will find my bedchamber door securely locked at night.”
“Your… your door!” Mr. Button cried. “What do you imply?”
