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Demon hadn’t waved back. When the man looked as if he wanted to speak, the lord of the manor had turned his horse away.

But still, speaking to a priest—even when one’s name was Demon—wasn’t the worst thing in the world. There were worse things, much closer to home…

“Cold out there today, milord?” Mrs. Kettel asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

And he realized he was scowling again, thinking about Banchot and the changes coming too fast. First Georgia came into his life, then his servants apparently conspired against him. He was going out in public, he was this close to whistling, for fook’s sake, and he felt happy.

Happy!

The Earl of Bonkinbone’s letter meant he wasn’t going to find Blackrose as he wanted, so why was he so fooking happy?

Excretable spunk-gibbon! Mendacious jizz-potato!

“Cold, aye,” he growled, turning about once more. “Bring tea to my study.”

Unphased by his rudeness, Mrs. Kettel just shook her head. “Lady Georgia already asked it to be delivered to the library. Could ye no’ just join her there, milord, or do ye want a separate tray?”

It was a bloody good thing Mother wasn’t here to see his housekeeper trying to make him feel guilty. The thought made one corner of Demon’s lips to curl wryly. “Nay, dinnae go through any trouble for me, who merely pays yer wages. I’ll join her in the library.”

“Good!” the older woman cheerfully declared, not deigning to hear his sarcasm. “Mary just took it up, so it’s still warm. Run along, milord!”

Pretending he hadn’t just been dismissed by his housekeeper, Demon stomped his way from the kitchen. He hadn’t gone more than the front hallway, however, when he saw Rajah standing at the front door.

The closed front door.

The cat stood with his forehead pressed against the wood, patiently waiting…

Blast! Where’s Bruno?

As he hurried across the cold marble floor, Demon dug his watch from his pocket. Rajah had started on this particular circuit thirty-seven minutes ago, which meant his whole afternoon schedule would be off. Damnation, Bruno rarely missed his cue!

So Demon was the one to yank the door open, nudge the cat out of the way, then open it farther so the fat animal could waddle through.

He’d learned from experience not to wander off—or, God forbid, shut the door.

Sure enough, Rajah pranced down the front steps along the right banister, turned twice in a circle at the bottom, then walked back up the steps on the left side. He did this even when there was no snow on the ground, and it definitely wasn’t to relieve himself.

Come to think of it, where did the cat do his business?

Perhaps Bruno is more useful than I give him credit for…

Demon waited for the cat to re-enter the house, then shut the front door firmly. In an unexpected display of affection, Rajah brushed up against his pant leg on the way toward the back corridor.

Watching him go, Demon shook his head. Was his life truly structured around a cat who weighed as much as a hog? Possibly. He checked his pocket watch again. If Rajah was behind, he might as well leave the library door ajar…

He hurried on his way, eager to enjoy the tea tray promised him in the library.

But when he pushed open the doors…

Pusillanimous spunk-muffin!

He stopped still, palms pressed against the oak paneling. “Did the Yule fairy attack here as well?”

Georgia gave a surprised squeak and spun about, a candle falling from her hand as she fumbled the second. “Demon! You startled me!”

“Clearly,” he muttered, stalking into the room. “What is all this?”

His gesture encompassed the entire room, but he was scowling specifically at the boughs strung together above the mantel and along the tops of almost every bookshelf. And where she stood, in the alcove in front of the window which faced the front drive…