“I do not want to settle in,” replied her aunt. She might have meant to be plaintive, but the word came out sulky. “Theyaskme things. When I am trying to concentrate.”

“Send them to Mrs. Grant,” Cecelia suggested. Her father’s housekeeper was extremely competent.

“Well, I do, but she seems to think I should haveopinionson the most trivial things. New types of coal scuttles!”

“Tell her that you are happy for her to make decisions,” Cecelia suggested.

“I have. She does not appear to believe me.” Aunt Valeria pulled a long face.

Cecelia had liked to supervise, and Mrs. Grant was accustomed to working with her. But the housekeeper would actually relish the chance to take more into her own hands. “I will send her a note explaining that you are quite serious,” she told her aunt. She would mention Janet and Archie in the letter. She suspected that Mrs. Grant would see losing two of her junior servants as an acceptable trade for greater scope.

All this proved to be true. Janet and Archie accepted her offers with alacrity and moved themselves in that very evening. Janet was delighted to rule her own kitchen and suggested two girls of her acquaintance to assist her. Hoping she was not establishing a tyranny, Cecelia agreed.

Thus, the next morning, there was expertly brewed tea and fresh baked bread, along with the dishes Cecelia customarily ordered. She waited for James to notice this minor miracle, but he appeared to take a fine breakfast in a completely new household for granted. “I found a cook,” she pointed out.

“Ah? Yes. This jam is quite good.”

Which of course had been purchased; there had been no time to make jam. This was the heedless James she knew. Testing him, Cecelia added, “I shall be looking for other servants today. Would you care to join in the interviews?”

“What about Will Ferris for a butler,” he replied.

“Mrs. Gardener’s brother?” She was nearly certain he was joking.

“I like his style.”

Cecelia did, too, but it was not that of a majordomo. “Perhaps some other post—” she began.

“He has a great deal of pride, you know. And he is quite capable.”

“I have no doubt of that.” She did doubt that he understood all of a butler’s tasks. “But another position might be better. I was thinking we should talk to the Gardeners about whether they would like to be in town or the country. We will have many positions to fill, since we must assume that Uncle Percival left his properties…unkempt.”

James stared at her. “You don’t think they’re all like…”

She saw visions of endless chaos in his eyes but could only shrug.

James groaned. “I believe I shall go to the club.”

Knowing she would accomplish more in his absence, Cecelia encouraged this plan. And by late afternoon, she’d found everyone she required for now and felt smugly efficient. She would have been happy to share her successes, and be praised for them, but there was no sign of James. She was upstairs making ready for bed when she finally heard him call her name.

Footsteps bounded up the stairs, and he appeared in the bedchamber door. “Prince Karl has left England,” he said. “Word is buzzing about town.”

“Has he?”

“Couldn’t tolerate the taste of his own medicine seemingly. You routed him.” James’s glance was admiring. “Tipped him a leveler, as they say.”

She enjoyed his approval, though not the way it was framed. And she did not, of course, mention the two men’s actual fight. That would be folly.

“Also, I found a new valet.”

“Did you?” That was one position she had left to him.

“Henry Deeping’s man knew of a fellow. Served old Falcourt until he died last month, and as you know Falcourt was always complete to a shade.”

She didn’t know, but she nodded anyway.

“The valet’s not a doddering fossil though. He’d only been with Falcourt two years.”

“Oh, good.”