Page 11 of Lovers' Dance

“She mentioned something about work, sir,” George explained politely.

“Work? She shouldn’t be at work.”

“I did try to convince her to stay, but she refused.” George arched a bushy eyebrow at him. “After her threat to call 911, I felt it best to allow your guest to leave.”

“What? 911?” Matt felt like his head was going to explode.

“Do not worry, sir.” George tried to take the briefcase clenched in Matt’s hand. “I corrected her so she’s now fully aware of what number to call if in need of police assistance.”

Matt took a deep breath and glared at George. “I swear your employment with me will be terminated right this second if you don’t explain yourself.”

George tried to not show any emotion, it was unprofessional, but the empty threat and Matt’s erratic behaviour since he’d walked through the front door, plus his earlier encounter with Ms DuMont, had him fighting a grin. Years of working as a butler meant his face remained bland as he finally got Matt to relinquish his death grip on the briefcase.

“I did as you instructed, sir, and took a light breakfast up to Ms DuMont—”

“You woke her?” Matt asked accusingly. “I told you to let her sleep.”

“It was ten thirty, and I merely knocked on the door to check if she was awake.”

“You woke her,” Matt repeated in a dark tone.

George ignored it and continued. “Ms DuMont was awake and after she’d stopped screaming—”

“What? Why was she screaming, George?” Matt needed a drink. A strong one.

“I assume she was startled at my unexpected appearance in the place of yours, sir,” George said tonelessly, before narrowing his eyes at Matt. “Shall I continue?”

Matt nodded wordless.

“I advised her clothes had been sent to the drycleaners, which have now been returned.” George pointed to a bag Matt had missed on the way in. “For whatever reason, she began acting strangely again and informed me of her virginal status.”

Matt bit his lips, remembering the way she’d blurted that piece of information out to him. “Yes, she tends to do that”—he frowned at the man he’d known for all his life—“when she feels embarrassed. Did you embarrass her, George?”

George kept his features bland. “Ms DuMont was unclothed in your bed, sir. I came to the expected conclusion.”

Matt’s expression darkened and George hurried on, once again alarmed over his employer’s erratic behaviour where it concerned the strange Ms DuMont. “I left her breakfast and was trying to procure clothes for her.” He paused to shuffle the briefcase to his other hand. “She is quite petite.”

Matt smiled. “Yes, she is.”

George’s alarm skyrocketed at the appearance of that almost dreamy smile on Matt’s face. “Before I had arranged suitable clothing to be sent over, she’d come in search of me. Then there was the incident with the tray—”

“Incident? What incident?”

“Well, if you’d allow me to finish without interruptions, sir, you’d be brought up to speed.”

Matt arched an eyebrow at the undertone of rebuke in George’s voice, then waved him on to continue. He let it slide. The man was like his surrogate father.

“Ms DuMont brought the tray down and I startled her, causing breakage of the dishes. She refused to stop tidying up even though I’d ordered her to.”

Matt’s face tightened in displeasure at that. George was unsure which part of his recounting had caused it. “Then we had a slight disagreement—”

“What did you say to her, George? I’m perfectly willing to sack you. Don’t think I won’t.”

George was always professional, so he did not roll his eyes, even though the urge was great. “She implied I was old and decrepit, sir. I informed her I was not.”

Matt was grinning. “Did she really? She’s feisty, isn’t she?”

“Yes, sir, she is,” he agreed before continuing. “She then requested a taxi, and I informed her of your expectation that she would be here when you returned. She stated she had to go to work and took offense for no reason at all, before rudely saying she was part owner of a dance studio—”

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