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the cat had dragged in. His clothes were sodden and droplets of rainwater were running off the ends of his hair and down the back of his neck. Stepping into the vestibule, he kicked off his trainers, then reached for one of the old towels Juliet kept for the dog. After giving his own hair a brisk rub, he bent down and started wiping the mud from Jess’s paws, but she managed to wriggle free before he’d finished.
    ‘Bad girl,’ Dante scolded as the pointer hurtled into the hall. He followed her, towel in hand, frowning when he saw the muddy trail she’d left in her wake. With the dog now nowhere in sight, he squatted down and began rubbing at the nearest set of paw prints.
    ‘You should’ve taken an umbrella.’ The voice made Dante jump. Looking up, he saw Nathan standing behind the reception desk. With his deep-set eyes, prominent cheekbones and thick lips, the general manager had a rather simian look.
    ‘Yeah,’ Dante said, sitting back on his haunches. ‘I guess I’ll have to buy one.’
    ‘There’s no need for that.’ Nathan gestured to the elephant’s foot umbrella stand in the corner. ‘We keep these for guests. Just help yourself.’
    Dante glanced at the stand. He found it quite grotesque, even though Juliet had explained that it was an antique and, as such, fell outside the remit of modern-day conservation laws. ‘Great,’ he said, turning his attention back to the paw prints.
    Nathan walked over to him. ‘I’ll have one of the chambermaids bring out a mop and bucket,’ he said in a voice unsettlingly lacking in peaks or troughs.
    ‘It’s okay, I’m nearly done.’ Dante wiped away the final set of paw prints and stood up.
    Nathan whisked the towel out of his hands and tucked it under his arm. ‘I’ll take this to the laundry.’
    ‘It’s okay, I can do it myself.’
    ‘Honestly, it’s no trouble,’ Nathan replied.
    ‘Fine,’ Dante said, fighting the urge to yank the towel back out of the general manager’s grasp.
    ‘Have you had breakfast yet?’
    ‘No, I was just going to grab some cereal.’
    ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like something more substantial? I can have Chef prepare a full English for you.’
    Dante patted his stomach. Two weeks of full Englishes were already beginning to take their toll. ‘No, honestly, cereal’s fine.’
    ‘Muesli, cornflakes or Weetabix?’
    ‘Er, muesli, thanks.’
    ‘And would you like that with hot milk or cold?’
    ‘Cold, please.’
    ‘Can I bring you some toast as well?’
    ‘Uh, okay.’
    ‘White, wholemeal or granary?’
    ‘Wholemeal.’
    ‘Jam, honey or lemon curd?’
    ‘Just butter, thanks.’
    ‘Salted or unsalted?’
    Dante tried not to show his irritation. The exchange had left him feeling drained. He’d always thought that the point of having staff was to make one’s life easier, but here at Ashwicke they only served to make even the simplest decisions a hundred times more complicated. ‘I really don’t care.’
    ‘And to drink?’
    ‘Coffee: black, caffeinated, no sugar.’
    ‘And where will you take it?’
    Dante sighed. ‘Where would you suggest?’ he said in a faintly sarcastic tone.
    ‘Why don’t you go in the snug? It’s awfully cosy.’
    Dante frowned. The day after their arrival from the States, Juliet had taken him on a whistle-stop tour of Ashwicke’s many rooms, but he still hadn’t had time to explore them all properly – never mind learn their names. ‘I don’t think I know where the snug is,’ he said, embarrassed that he had to ask for directions in his own home.
    Nathan nodded towards one of the corridors that led off the hall. ‘It’s down there, third door on the right. I’ll bring your breakfast shortly.’ And before Dante had a chance to protest the manager had turned on his heel and walked away.
    Suddenly, Dante felt something warm and soft nudge his hand. Looking down, he saw Jess staring up at him with her big eyes. ‘Well,’ he told the dog, ‘I guess we’re having our