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and hung up his clothes. Of course, Tellman had probably never even seen a gentleman’s evening clothes like these before, let alone learned how to care for them. Still, it was shocking that in a house like this Pitt should be doing it himself. What would people think?
    “I’ll help wi’ that, sir,” she said briskly, pushing the door open. “You should be downstairs meeting all them people wot you’re ’ere to look after.” She gave Tellman a meaningful glance, in case he imagined that was a leave for him to go as well.
    Pitt turned around, hesitated a moment, glanced at Tellman, then back at Gracie.
    “Thank you,” he accepted with a wry smile, and with a nod at Tellman, he left.
    Gracie turned to Charlotte’s three large trunks and opened the first. On the top was a magnificent evening gown in oyster-colored satin, stitched with pearl beads and draped with silk chiffon. A glance at the side seam of the bodice told her it had been very rapidly and very skillfully let out at the back. No doubt it belonged to Lady Vespasia Cumming-Gould. Gracie knew every one of Charlotte’s few dresses, and this certainly was not among them. She lifted it up very carefully, a warm rush of gratitude filling her that Lady Vespasia should be so generous to save Charlotte’s self-esteem in this company—most especially before her sister, who had married so well. As far as money was concerned, that is. No one could match the master for being a person that really mattered in the world.
    She found a hanger and arranged the gown so it lay properly and turned to put it in the wardrobe.
    Tellman was staring at her, mesmerized.
    “What’s the matter wi’ you?” she said briskly. “In’t yer never seen a lady’s gown afore? Get on ’anging up them suits an’ then you can go an’ find out where the irons are, and the upstairs stove for makin’ tea, an’ the bathroom an’ like. I don’ suppose yer know ’ow ter draw a bath?” She sniffed. “Don’t suppose yer got a bath? An’ ’ot water for the mornin’s? An’ polish for the master’s boots? They’ll ’ave ter be done every night.” She looked at the disgust in his face. “Not that yer’ve got much ter do, not like as I ’ave! Gentlemen only changes once or twice a day. Ladies change up ter five times. But yer’ll ’ave ter make sure shirts is clean … always! I’ll give yer ’ell ter pay if yer let the master down by sending ’im out wi’ a shirt wot in’t perfick.”
    “He’s not my master,” Tellman said between his teeth. “And I’m not a bleedin’ nursemaid!”
    “You’re not any bleedin’ use!” she snapped back at him. “And we’ll ’ave no language in ’ere, Mr. Tellman. It in’t done. D’you ’ear me?”
    He stood still, glaring at her.
    “If yer too proud ter do yer job proper, then yer a fool,” she said tartly, turning back to the trunk and taking out the next gown, one in autumn gold taffeta. This was plainer, one of Charlotte’s own, but very becoming to her auburn coloring. “Pass me one o’ them ’angers,” she instructed.
    He passed it grudgingly.
    “Look, Mr. Tellman,” she said, putting the dress on the hanger carefully, then handing it to him to hang in the wardrobe and moving to the next garment, a day dress in deep blue gabardine. Below that was a morning dress, and another, and another. There were three more dinner dresses and several morning and day dresses in the other trunk, plus blouses, camisoles and other underwear, and of course plenty of petticoats. But she would not take them out until Tellman had gone. It was none of his affair what a lady wore beneath her gowns. “Look,” she started again, “you an’ me is ’ere ter ’elp the master do ’is job an’ protect whoever it is wot’s in danger. To do that right, we got ter look like we come ter this kind of ’ouse reg’lar an’ knows wot we’re doin’.”
    She handed him the next gown and fixed him with a strict stare.
    “You may think