Henry winced.
“Yes. I think I might need to remind her that Martha would be ashamed of her acting in such a manner towards Lady Josephine. It was she, after all, who reminded me that Martha would have wanted me to remarry.”
“Clearly she had another in mind for that position, Your Grace.”
Henry’s nose wrinkled.
He didn’t like to think that she had considered it that far to begin with. It was much easier and more likely in his mind for her to have concluded in the heat of the moment spurred by her grief.
“She is already married, Harbuttle!”
The butler shrugged wryly. “It would hardly be the first of such a scandal, Your Grace.”
“It would be a Greek tragedy,” Henry argued with a snort.
“It is the ton.”
It was as close as Henry had ever heard the butler discourage society. He stared at Harbuttle for a moment, his own gaze pensive as he ignored the subtle jab at high society and thought instead about his problem.
“I don’t imagine that her husband will take too kindly to any insinuation that his wife …”
“Wants to be unfaithful?” Harbuttle supplied dryly.
Henry made a choked noise, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Desires His Grace over him? Offered herself so freely?”
“Be serious, Harbuttle.” Henry chuckled despite himself. “How would you go about bringing such a thing up?”
“I usually find it best to just say it.”
Henry gave him a quick look, appreciating how quickly his butler sobered and seemed to actually consider the request.
“Perhaps you needn’t outright accuse her of any such thing,” Harbuttle mused after a few minutes of silence.
Henry’s brows rose, furrowing along with it as he tried to imagine how he might do that and confront her as he needed to.
“You only need to tell her you didn’t appreciate her being so openly disapproving of your marriage, especially to your fiancé. You can remind her that you well understand her grief but that what she did was inappropriate. You will still be getting your point across without having to face her denying your claims or explaining yourself to Lord Brisby.”
That… was actually a very good idea.
Henry nodded, his gaze slipping towards the fire once more as he considered it.
“And perhaps I can salvage what familial relationship is left with Catherine at the same time,” he muttered.
Harbuttle didn’t respond one way or another to that, but it didn’t bother Henry. He knew that the butler hadn’t been near as fond of her as he had her sister.
Very few people were.
He just couldn’t consign himself to burning that last bridge between him and his late wife. He knew, even as much as Martha would disapprove of her sister’s recent actions, that she would have wanted to help her even still. And he knew that she would expect the same from him in her absence.
“You know, Harbuttle, I don’t think I pay you nearly enough.”
“Ah, that is hardly for me to say, Your Grace,” Harbuttle responded facetiously.
Henry finished his port, waving Harbuttle away as he moved as if to take the glass from him to refill once more.
“Take the rest of the night to yourself, old man,” he said with a sigh. He put his glass off to the side and stretched his legs out, his shoulders relaxing at the realization that he had a battle plan in place. “I can take care of myself for the rest of the night. Take the bottle of port with you. As my thanks.”
