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Rafferty smiled faintly. “No, I don’t suppose I do, but it’ll suit me well enough for the next few weeks.”

Bertha scowled. “That foolish little girl is falling in love with you, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I noticed. She’ll get over it. They all do.” He moved over to the window to make sure no one had followed them—an old habit but one hard to break.

“Miss Georgie isn’t like most silly young girls. She’s got a heart of gold, she has, and I’m not going to stand by and watch you break it.”

He turned back to her, unmoved. “That’s the last thing I want to do. Don’t worry—she’ll forget all about me the moment I’m gone.”

“Not planning to stay long? I’m not surprised. I’ve never seen anyone less like a butler in my life. The sooner you’re on your way, the better.”

“All in good time,” Rafferty said. “But I think you underestimate Miss Georgiana.” He used her full name on purpose, but Bertha didn’t look appeased. “Give her the proper clothes and she’ll have young men at her feet.”

“I wish that were true. But it won’t do anyone any good if all she wants is you.”

“I told you, she’ll get over it.”

“Humph,” Bertha said, a wealth of meaning in that one word. “In the meantime, where did you get those two girls who showed up an hour ago, saying they were maids? The Mannings can’t even pay me, much less two able-bodied young women.”

“You let me worry about that,” he said. “I trust you put them to work?”

“Of course I did. Even if they’re only here for a day, they can make a difference in this wreck of a house.”

“They’re here for as long as you want them.”

“But the money...”

They were interrupted by a rap on the kitchen door, and a moment later, Mr. Jenkins himself was there, directing his men to carry in the loads of meat and eggs that Rafferty had ordered.

Bertha took it all in, along with Jenkins’s ingratiating manner, and said not a word till they were alone once more, and then she turned on Rafferty.

“Just who the hell are you?”

Georgie hadn’t planned on running smack into her sister as she emerged from the servant’s staircase, and she tried to duck back in before it was too late, but Norah’s beautiful purple eyes had already narrowed in on her.

“Been consorting with the servants again, George?” she demanded archly.

Georgie controlled her temper. “I was helping my protégé.”

“Your what?” Norah’s voice rose. “Good God, George, does Father know about this?”

“Of course he does. And he approved. Rafferty shaved him this morning.”

“Rafferty?”

“Pay attention, Norah,” she said impatiently. “Rafferty’s our new butler, and he’s my protégé, just like Mother has.”

“It better not be just like Mother has,” Norah said obscurely, “or your protégé will be back out on the street in no time. Come to think of it, a strange man did enter my bedroom this morning, but I’d forgotten. So, we have a butler again? Thank God for that!”

“Thank me for that,” Georgie said. “I found him.”

“What do you mean, you found him?”

“Don’t you remember? He was the Dregs of Society. I decided to reform him and make him our butler. He doesn’t even want any money for doing it. Or, at least, he may want it, but he knows he’s not going to get it and he’s willing to be our butler anyway.”

“You’re out of your mind!” Norah snapped. “That man assaulted me! God knows what he’ll do to the household if he’s given free rein.”

“He’s going to run the household, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” she said defiantly.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Norah snapped. She raised her voice to an unpleasant shriek. “Mother! Father!”

“Oh, bugger off,” Georgie said unwisely, stomping to her bedroom door and slamming it shut in her sister’s face.

It wasn’t, perhaps, the most felicitous of phrases—she’d picked it up on the streets, but it had a satisfyingly vulgar sound, and she’d been looking for a chance to use it. Her sister deserved it.

They’d never been close, but at least when they lived in the countryside Norah hadn’t been so determinedly mean.

Georgie tried to be generous—Norah was unhappy and her sour outlook on life touched everyone but her army of would-be suitors.

Georgie did her best to shrug it off—at least it was nothing personal.

Everyone suffered from Norah’s lash of a tongue.

She threw herself into the first chair she found.

Stomping had not been a smart idea in these boots, and her feet were burning with so much pain that she had trouble unlacing them, her hands shaking with the effort.

Once completely unlaced she tried to pull off the shoe, but it clung tightly to her foot, and she leaned back with a cry of frustration.

Her feet had fit into the boots with only a little bit of effort—they must have swollen while she wore them.

She could do nothing but listen as her sister and mother squawked in the hallway and her father’s deep bellow joined in.

She had the truly awful feeling that they were going to try to take Rafferty away from her, and she couldn’t let them do that.

Neither could she fight for him, at least not until she could pry the boots off her feet, and she didn’t dare admit she’d worn them again.

Her mother had tried to throw them out, her father would feel bad, and everything would be in an even greater uproar than it already was.

Her door slammed open, and she closed her eyes for a moment as her family crowded into her bedroom, the three of them talking at once. She let it go on for a bit, then finally raised her voice.

“Stop it!”

Needless to say it didn’t quiet her voluble family for even a moment. “Norah says you’ve brought a beggar into the house and set him up as our butler!” her mother declaimed. Liliane Manning had a decided affection for drama.

“Best shave I’ve had in weeks,” Sir Elston said. “And he’ll work without wages.”

“Don’t be ridiculous—the man is a hoodlum,” Norah said. “He assaulted me!”

“Assaulted you?” Sir Elston raised his voice. “When?”

“He didn’t assault her,” Georgie said patiently. “He merely scared her and she tripped.”

“We can’t have the butler scaring us!” Liliane said. “What would our visitors think?”

“He wasn’t our butler when he scared her. She was being awful, and he merely?—”

“That’s right, make excuses for him,” Norah cut her off. “Can’t you see she’s half in love with him already? You know how Georgie gets these crushes—two years ago it was the French master.”

“That was just a crush, and I was a child. And besides, I am not in love with him,” she defended herself.

Her mother frowned. “In love with the butler? How absurd—nobody falls in love with a butler. I could understand it with a footman—a matched pair can be quite striking,” she went on. “But there’s something pathetic about falling in love with one’s butler. As if one couldn’t reach any higher.”

“I’m not in love with anyone,” Georgie blurted out. “He’s my protégé.”

There was a deafening silence in the room, as the three other members of her family looked anywhere but at each other. “You can’t have a protégé,” Sir Elston said finally. “It’s not done.”

“Why not? Mother has protégés.”

“Enough of that,” Liliane interfered, unruffled. “Where is this new butler of ours? I want to meet him.”

Sir Elston sighed. “He’s a good-looking chap. You’ll like him.”

“Then why keep him around?” Norah demanded.

“I’ve learned to pick my battles,” he said. “There are some things I can do nothing about, and that includes your mother’s little pets. If I can get a good shave out of the bargain, I’ll count it worthwhile.”

But Liliane Manning was ignoring him, a contemplative expression on her ageless face. “What’s the man’s name?”

“Rafferty,” Georgie supplied, feeling a combination of hope and despair. “And he’s my protégé, not yours.”

“Oh, I don’t like Rafferty. It sounds so...raffish. Couldn’t we come up with something a bit more English?”

“We can’t allow him to stay!” Norah protested, incensed.

“Oh, I tend to agree with your father. We badly need a butler, and it sounds as if he’s perfectly presentable. I think we should take him on.”

Georgie knew that expression on her mother’s face, and her heart sank. It was slightly predatory, if truth be told, and it would end with father shouting and her mother weeping and Rafferty out the door...

“We’ll be murdered in our beds!” Norah said.

“You wish!” Georgie shot back, albeit illogically. “He’s mine and I’m not sharing.”

Liliane shrugged. “It is nice to see you take an interest in something, dearest Georgie, and heaven knows I’ve never been terribly gifted at household management.

I have too much of an artistic temperament to bother myself with these matters.

If you’ve found a presentable butler, then so be it.

And Norah, you should be glad there’s someone to answer the door when your Lord Felton calls. ”

“I’ve decided against Lord Felton,” Norah announced. “He smells of the shop.”

“That’s why he has so much money, my dear,” Sir Elston said. “And you’ve become a little too exacting in your demands. I’ve had three offers for your hand and you’ve rejected them all. The next time some poor fool asks me, I’m going to say yes.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Norah seethed.

“Watch me.”

She flounced out of the room, much to Georgie’s relief, quickly followed by Liliane who was making cooing noises at her adored elder daughter. “Precious, your father didn’t mean it...”

“I meant it,” Sir Elston growled, turning to look at her. “Is your sister right? Is this man a danger to our household?”

“Of course not,” Georgie said soothingly. “He’s quite wonderful.”

His face turned even more dour. “I trust Norah was simply causing trouble when she said you were in love with him. If I thought there was any chance of Rafferty being forward enough to...”

“Rafferty would never do anything!” she assured him, trying to hide her own regret.

“Because your mother’s...affections for her protégés is something that is not acceptable in an innocent young girl.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Georgie said earnestly, still not sure why her mother’s affections for her protégés would be a problem.

“Then we’ll keep him on, for the present at least. I imagine there’ll be more than enough to keep him busy. You just keep your distance, young lady.”

She didn’t bother to protest. Her father was too wrapped up in his business worries to pay attention to what went on in his household, and besides, she had no wicked designs on Rafferty. Not that it would have done her any good. And he had no wicked designs on her. Alas.

When she was finally alone, she limped over to her bed, making one last attempt to strip the shoes off her feet, and then gave up, lying back.

The window was open—she liked to keep one open even on the coldest days, and this autumn afternoon was no more than mildly brisk.

She would lie there and wait until the swelling went down in her feet, lie there and dream of those strange, hypnotic eyes and his warm body, she would dream of. ..