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“Must we talk about money all the time?” Neddy emerged from his semi-stupor to complain. “There’s nothing we can do about it, so we may as well not think about it. It’s depressing.”

“May I point out that your gambling has contributed to our current impecunious circumstances?” Norah said icily.

“Mother has high gaming debts as well.” His voice was sulky.

“I must admit you’re right, Neddy darling.

” Liliane brightened. “Your father was complaining about my gambling bills for at least a year before he lost everything on that bubble thing. But that’s neither here nor there because Norah’s going to marry someone fabulously wealthy and then there won’t be any problem. Will there, dear?”

She directed her last question to her husband, who simply made a choking sound and rolled his eyes.

Rafferty allowed himself a covert glance at Norah, and she wasn’t looking any too pleased with this future, but for once, she said nothing. She was still focusing on her sister.

“I think it’s dangerous to bring perfect strangers in and give them the running of the household,” Norah said. “Who knows, we all may be murdered in our beds!”

“Oh, I don’t think Rafferty’s a murderer,” Liliane said brightly. “If he was, I suspect we would be dead already. And just think of all the lovely things he’s brought us. I can’t remember how we ever survived without him.”

“We had a houseful of servants,” Norah said. “And indeed, I’m wondering how one man manages to accomplish so much.”

“Rafferty is wonderful!” Georgie snapped, clearly having forgotten her displeasure with him.

“I told you, Mother,” Norah purred. “Next thing you know, they’ll be off to Gretna Green and we’d never live down the shame of it.”

Georgie’s face flushed, and she glared at her sister. “You’re an absolute beast, Norah. Stop being so hateful.”

“I’m not being hateful, just honest,” Norah said with spurious concern. “This family can’t afford any kind of scandal if I’m to marry some titled nabob.” She didn’t sound particularly pleased by the idea.

“Well, why don’t you just do it instead of talking about it,” Georgie shot back. “Haven’t you been in society long enough? Much more time and people will start to wonder what’s wrong with you, that you haven’t secured a match.”

“Mother!” Nora cried in protest.

“Apologize to your sister, Georgie.”

“I’d rather die,” she said, rising dramatically and stalking from the room.

It took everything he had not to follow Georgie with his eyes when she left the dining room, but he was an expert at keeping his face impassive.

It was never good to betray any emotion when it came to his line of work, his real line of work, that was, and his implacability served him well as the Mannings’ substitute butler.

“Oh, go after her, Rafferty,” Liliane cried. “I can’t bear to see her so upset.”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Sir Elston thundered.

“Of course, he is! Georgie adores him—I vow she hasn’t been this taken with anyone since her spaniel died. He’ll cheer her up.”

Rafferty was sorely tempted to bark, but he kept his expression stoic, not moving as Sir Elston and Liliane devolved into a restrained shouting match.

Neddy slid lower in his seat—another glass or two of the fine claret Rafferty had been able to procure and he’d be on the floor—and Norah simply preened, her work done for the evening.

He wasn’t paying attention to the battle royale until Sir Elston finally addressed him. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go after her. But if you put one finger on her, I’ll horsewhip you myself.”

So Lady Manning had won. It wasn’t the order he’d been hoping for, but he could hardly refuse.

“Yes, sir.”

“And do cheer her up!” Lady Manning added.

“Never let it be said that I am anything but the most doting mother. We prevailed upon our hosts to include her in the invitation for tonight, and it would appear quite dreadful if she failed to come.” Lilliane made a slight gesture, and he came forward and filled her wine glass as well as that of her son, silently cursing.

It was already clear he’d have to transport Neddy upstairs and get him into his night gear—he hardly fancied doing the same with his mother.

“Go along with you now, Rafferty.” Lady Manning made a shooing gesture. “Cheer the poor girl up.”

He had no choice, and he was hardly going to argue. With a slight bow, he left the room, in search of his wayward patron.

It took him a while to find her. To his great relief she hadn’t immured herself in her bedroom, but neither was she in the lady’s salon nor any of the other formal rooms. When he finally found her, she was in the place he should have looked first—in the kitchen, comfortably ensconced at the big table with a heaping plate of food in front of her.

Martina and Bertha were with her, and neither of them evinced the slightest bit of surprise when he walked into the room.

“What took you so long?” Georgie asked.

“Your father was threatening to horsewhip me.” He took the seat opposite her and sank into it. The kitchen, unlike the rest of the house, was a democracy, and he had no intention of being on his formal best when he was there.

“And you were so frightened?” Georgie said. “My father wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“He might if someone he cared about were compromised.”

“Yes, but you don’t like Norah,” she pointed out.

“Don’t be deliberately obtuse. She’s not the only young woman in this household.”

“But she’s his favorite. She’s everyone’s favorite,” she said with a sigh.

The two women were quick with their demurrals. “She’s a bitch,” Martina summed it up nicely.

“A bitch?” Georgie was quite taken with the word. “I like that. May I use it?”

“No,” said Bertha, Martina, and Rafferty in unison.

Georgie shrugged. “Witch will do,” she said philosophically. “You weren’t really afraid of my father, were you?”

“He told me to go find you and cheer you up.”

“Oh.” There was no hiding her disappointment. “That’s good.”

“Apparently, I’m taking the place of your deceased spaniel,” he said dryly.

To his absolute horror, her blue eyes filled with unshed tears. “You couldn’t,” she said flatly.

“You’re making a mockery of the girl’s dead dog? Shame on yourself, Rafferty,” Martina said sternly.

“Told you he was no good,” Bertha muttered.

“All right, all right!” he protested. “I wasn’t mocking the dead dog, I was mocking being compared to it.”

“You’re a wretch,” Martina said with clear affection. “Pay him no mind, dearie.”

Georgie pushed her plate away, her appetite apparently gone. “You don’t really like my sister, do you?”

“It’s not my place to like or dislike her,” he replied carefully.

“She’s a snake,” Georgie said flatly.

“Aye, that she is,” Martina said.

“You’re not helping.” Rafferty gave her a disapproving glare, but Martina simply shrugged it off.

“No need to pretend she’s anything else,” Bertha said. “She’s always been a spoiled brat. Comes from being too pretty—everyone dotes on her.”

“Fortunately, that’s not my problem,” Georgie said, and Rafferty knew she wasn’t searching for compliments. “I’m the clever one.”

“You could have fooled me on that one,” Bertha said dampeningly.

“Well, Neddy drinks too much to be clever, and Norah’s more interested in what she looks like than what she knows.”

“Your sister’s no fool,” Bertha warned her.

Georgie sighed. “No, I suppose not. I just wish she’d get married and go away.” She gave herself a delicate little shake, as if to rid herself of her sister’s onerous presence. “In the meantime, how do I get out of going to the Ormonds’ tonight? Rafferty, could you tell them I’m ill?”

“He could but he won’t,” Bertha said. “You need to go out into society and find a gentleman of your own. Like that Mr. Salton.”

Georgie simply shrugged, and if he hadn’t been so preternaturally aware of her he wouldn’t have noticed the strained expression in her eyes. “He’s a very nice man,” she said, but there was no softening in her voice—clearly, Salton didn’t remind her of her spaniel.

No, the spaniel made her cry, and he was a thoughtless brute to joke about it.

“You could marry him and be away from this crazy family,” Martina piped up, and it was all Rafferty could do not to glare at her.

And it was a good thing, because Georgie was looking at him when she said, “I don’t want to marry anyone.”

“Nonsense. Every girl wants to be married,” Bertha said.

“Not if I can’t marry who I want,” she said stubbornly, still looking at him, and he wanted to groan. A crush was bad enough—she was too tempting for his piece of mind. Now she wanted to marry him?

He needed to get the hell out of here before things got worse.

“You all need to go away and let me do my work,” Bertha announced in her irascible voice.

“I’m going,” Martina said cheerfully. “Miss Norah has a list of tasks an arm long, and her ladyship is almost as bad. And that reminds me, Miss Georgie. What can I do for you?”

“Luckily, I don’t need you for anything,” Georgie said. “Norah is the one who’s going to save us.”

Rafferty snorted indelicately.