Page 24
“Of course it is.”
“And Lord Cranford wishes to know whether his brown coat has been brushed.”
Judith looked at her. “Has his valet suffered an accident?”
“No, miss.”
“Then Lord Cranford may discover the astonishing convenience of asking him.”
“Yes, miss.” The maid did not leave.
Judith waited. There was always another calamity. “And?”
“Lady Stanhope says someone has taken her smelling salts.”
Judith closed her eyes briefly. “Has anyone looked in her reticule?”
“I do not know, miss.”
“Look there first, and if they are not in it, try beneath the cushion of the yellow sofa in the drawing room. She had them there yesterday.”
“Yes, miss.”
When the maid departed, Judith glanced towards the mantel clock and discovered with some disbelief that it was not yet one.
Blackthorn had been full for scarcely more than a fortnight, and already the house seemed determined to test the boundaries of civilized existence. She picked up the household ledger and returned downstairs.
The principal staircase afforded an excellent view of the entrance hall, where one of the footmen was attempting to remove a muddy spaniel from the Turkish carpet whilst Lady Dunsmore protested that the creature disliked being handled by strangers. Judith stopped halfway down. “Briggs.”
The footman looked up with unmistakable gratitude.
“Take Ptolemy through the side passage into the kitchen yard and ask Jem to wash his paws before returning him to her ladyship.”
“Must he be removed to the yard for that?”
Ptolemy shook vigorously and distributed droplets of mud across the footman, a console table, and the lower portion of Lady Dunsmore’s pale muslin gown.
Judith pressed her lips together.
Lady Dunsmore looked down at herself. “Well,” she said after a moment, “perhaps a little washing.”
“I thought it advisable.” Judith continued downstairs, intending to reach the morning room before anyone else found reason to detain her, when laughter sounded from the direction of the billiard room.
His laughter. She had stopped before she could prevent herself.
That was absurd. Major Baines had been at Blackthorn for two hours, perhaps a little more, and there was no earthly reason why she ought already to distinguish his laugh from that of every other gentleman in the house—
—Yet she could.
Far worse was the fact she liked it.
Judith turned firmly towards the morning room.
Avoidance, she decided, was entirely sensible under the circumstances. One could not properly call it cowardice when the person being avoided was a professional Intelligence Officer who had already begun observing far more than she wished him to.
Colonel Renforth did not send his men from London for amusement, whatever Major Baines might pretend. He could smile until every female between Northumberland and Mayfair forgot her Christian name, but there was a very active mind beneath all that agreeable nonsense, and Judith had recognized it at once.
Had he been merely a handsome fool, she could have dismissed him without difficulty. Unfortunately, Major Baines was clever, and worse still, he had taken considerable pains to persuade everyone that he was not.
