“Are you?” The earl examined his valet’s round face.
Clayton’s nod gave him the air of an equal rather than a servant.
Arthur accepted it in a similar spirit. “All the better for me. I’d be lost without you.” He picked up two letters he’d written and moved away from the desk. “What do you think of young Tom?” he added.
“Intelligent,” answered the valet at once. He appeared to be prepared for this question. “Enterprising. Never impudent even though he’s always…outspoken. And—what one notices most, I think—remarkably cheerful despite a hard life.”
“Well put. I agree.” Arthur considered the lad. “He talks of resuming his travels soon. Apparently he doesn’t wish to stay at Furness Hall, though I think he’d be welcome. I’ve thought of offering him a position.”
“What sort of position, my lord?”
“That’s the question. I don’t know. It just seems wasteful to allow him to wander off. Well, we shall see.” Arthur handed the letters to Clayton. “Send those off, would you?”
“Certainly, my lord.” Clayton took them and left the room. In the corridor, he encountered Sarah Dennison. She was carrying a small canvas bag, held well away from her skirts. The smell suggested that it held the contents of a feline sandbox. “Are you cleaning up after the cat? That’s not your job.” He felt offended on her behalf.
“No.” She looked rueful. “But who’s to do it? There’s no bootboy or footman. The housemaid is run off her feet as it is. And I—and my mistress—have to be in the room where the catis.”
Clayton nodded his understanding. “The staff’s not what I’m used to on a country house visit.”
“Well meaning, but overwhelmed,” agreed the lady’s maid.
They exchanged a commiserating glance. “Still carrying those scissors, I see,” said Miss Dennison.
He couldn’t restrain a sigh. “I do hate to see a nobleman—closely related to his lordship, too—so ill-kempt. But Lord Furness absolutely refuses my services.”
Sarah Dennison shook her head. “Even though he can see—as we all do in Lord Macklin’s turn-out—that you’re a master.”
“Thank you. Miss Saunders’s coiffure is immaculate since you arrived.”
They took a moment to bask in mutual approbation.
“I might have an idea,” said the lady’s maid then.
“Really?” Clayton didn’t see what she could do.
“You might try telling Lord Furness that my young lady is very particular about hair, considering the trials she has with her own. And that she appreciates a neat appearance.”
“You think that might change his opinion?”
“I think there’s a good chance of it.”
Clayton absorbed the implications of her suggestion. “Is that the way things are trending then?”
Miss Dennison shrugged. “It’s not my place to say anything about that.”
He thought some more. “You like Somerset?”
“I don’t mind it.”
“Furness Hall offers a good bit of…scope, considering the state of the household.”
“I expect it might.” She sounded just a bit complacent.
“And the earl’s…family would most likely spend some time in London each year as well.”
“The nobility is fond of the season.”
Clayton didn’t smile, but his expression showed appreciation. Here was a sharp wit who could carry on an oblique conversation. He’d missed that at Furness Hall. “Thank you for your advice.”