young butler did not even seem to notice that he had failed in his first duty of guarding the door. He looked from one to the other.
“Is this a business call or a social one?” he asked.
“Both,” Joshua said with a laugh. “Does it matter?”
The butler scratched his cheek. “Well, do you wish to see Lord Bolderwood in the library, or Lady Bolderwood in the drawing room?”
“How about Lady Bolderwood in her bedchamber? I understand she entertains there.”
“Joshua!” Cassandra elbowed him and fought her urge to laugh. “Behave!”
“What?” He turned to her with exaggerated affront. “He asked a stupid question. Why the blazes should I put up with incompetent butlers asking stupid questions?”
“He is merely trying to arrange us properly.”
“You can take your ‘properly’ and put it in—”
“Hush.”
The butler was rubbing his forehead, clearly unsure what to do next, and apparently unaware that he had revealed that both master and mistress were in the house.
Cassandra knew exactly how to proceed. “Ideally—Ah, what is your name?”
“Smith, madam.”
“Smith.” She repeated the word as if it were the best name in the world. “Now, ideally, Smith, my husband and I would meet with both the viscount and his wife simultaneously.”
“That means at the same time,” Joshua added helpfully.
“I’m sure a young man of your obvious talent could organize to have both of them in the same room.”
“Herd them there, as it were.”
“Herd them?” Cassandra turned on Joshua, eyes wide with mock outrage. “You must not speak of our hosts as if they were recalcitrant goats.”
“Whyever not?”
“The conduct books are very clear on that point.”
“Right. Do not call Bolderwood a goat. I shall endeavor to remember that.”
“Please do.”
He grinned and she felt peculiarly pleased with herself.
“Perhaps, Smith,” she went on, “we could begin by seeing Lord Bolderwood in his library, and Lady Bolderwood could join us there.” She recalled those sly, smirking eyes. “I am certain she would not want to miss this.”
Smith did not look as certain, but she gave him no time to argue, as memory guided her steps straight toward the library. Smith scuttled past her and planted himself in front of the door.
His eyes swung wildly from one to the other. “I should check first, his lordship said.”
“No need, Smith. You have done your job beautifully. Your mother must be very proud.”
She advanced without hesitation, again forcing him to back away to avoid touching her. When she reached out a hand, he leaped aside, exposing the handle, which she gripped.
“My husband is teaching me to open doors all by myself,” she said to the butler. “It is very liberating.”
And enjoying the chuckle from behind, she pushed open the door to Lord Bolderwood’s library and swept in.
Joshua tipped the hapless butler and sauntered after Cassandra, eager to see what she came up with next.
“Harry,” Cassandra said warmly, as though she were happy to see him. Joshua glared at her back. That pushed politeness a bit too far.
Or maybe she was happy to see him.
Bolderwood leaped to his feet.
“Cassandra! And…” Bolderwood’s face dropped when he saw Joshua. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m astonished you must ask, you insolent pup.” Joshua sauntered to the middle of the room, enjoying the feeling of his wife by his side. He was used to fighting his battles alone; it was strangely warming to have an ally. “You seem to be making free with my name, putting it on legal documents and so forth.”
“Joshua. Restrain yourself, please.”
She was delightful when she became stern and he could be absurd. He was coming to enjoy her nagging. He suspected she was secretly coming to enjoy his teasing.
“What? You said I must not call him a goat. You never said I couldn’t call him a dog.”
“Please refrain from likening him to any animals.” Mischief glinted in her eyes. “A man of your talents can find much better names.”
“I did not wish to upset your delicate ears.”
“Oh, now you’re concerned about my delicate ears.” She turned back to Bolderwood. “We have come to deal with this nonsense, Harry.”
Bolderwood looked right at Joshua. “You bring your wife to do this? What kind of man hides behind his wife’s skirts?”
“But they are such lovely skirts.” He grinned at her. “Although generally I prefer to hide under them.”
She slapped a hand to his chest, her eyes on his. “Behave, darling.”
Darling? Ah, a game for Bolderwood’s sake. For Harry.
“Anything for you, my little poppet,” he said.
On impulse, he brushed his knuckles over her jaw. Her eyes darkened ever so slightly; perhaps she could be made