“Mr. Tobias Wicket, His Grace’s butler,” the man said. “I have been here all along, observing.”
“It was you, creepin’ round the house,” Cook said, pointing the knife in his hand at the intruder.
The kitchen maids took that moment to clutch and each other and wail.
“Silence!” Mr. Wicket shouted.
They wailed for another minute before they decided to follow that directive.
As the maids settled down to a whimper, Mr. Wicket said, “I will have eyes everywhere, watching everything. You would be well-advised to ensure this household is run impeccably.”
Now that Mrs. Right had managed to catch her breath from the fright of this person’s sudden arrival, she attempted to take his measure. It did not look as if he ate much and she could not imagine where Lady Marchfield had found him.
What was more worrying was that he’d been here all along. Where had he been hiding? Was that how he meant to go on? How was she to get rid of him?
Mr. Wicket pointed at Cook. “You are going to burn the house down if you don’t do something about that oven.”
They all turned and indeed, the oven was smoking. Cook wrestled the pan out of it which contained what was now a very well-done roasted beef. Cook looked at it dejectedly. Mrs. Right could only imagine how the duke was viewing what was coming up from the kitchens.
She turned back to Mr. Wicket. Then she looked around the room. Where was he?
“He’s gone!” Cook cried. This prompted the kitchen maids to take up their wailing again. Mrs. Right grabbed an apron from a hook on the wall and rolled up her sleeves. Something had to be done about this dinner. She would deal with Mr. Wicket later.
If she could find him.
