“Well, it’s not chintz, Mr. Dobble, and there’s not one iota of lace to be seen, so I cannot understand your disapproval. And while I do appreciate your attention to detail, my fashion choices are not up for discussion with a butler, no matter how esteemed he might be,” she replied, her sweet smile still fixed in place while her words were firm. She looked past him. “Molly, one of the lanterns needs to be relit. Check on the other ones to make certain they don’t need new candles as well.”

“Yes, Mrs. Bright,” replied the maid, moving quickly to attend to the problem, although Phyllida saw a flash of disappointment in her expression. Said disappointment could be due to the fact that she’d been talking to Elton, Mr. Max’s new valet, or that she didn’t want to miss whatever conversation continued to transpire between her boss and the butler. Phyllida wondered briefly who had been left in charge up at Mallowan Hall, with the butler, two footmen, the valet, and three maids all in attendance at the cocktail fête. Mrs. Puffley wouldn’t do, for she never left her domain of the kitchen. The house could burn down around the cook, and she’d still be stirring her stew or pummeling her bread dough with broad, muscular hands.

“Mrs. Bright,” said Dobble from between clenched teeth.

“Yes, Mr. Dobble?” she replied.

“Might I remind you that one does not imbibe whilst on duty,” he said. Which was actually quite hypocritical of him, for Phyllida had caught him sipping beer in his pantry more than once—and not on his day off.

“Mr. Dobble,” she said kindly, “I would find speaking with you so much more enjoyable if you would not concern yourself with my attire, my hair, or the contents of my glass—especially when there is a woman out in the garden desperately in need of more champagne and I see that neither of your footmen have made their way out there with a tray. Perhaps that should be rectified.”

With that, she brought her own glass to her mouth and, still smiling, took a generous sip of the sparkling vintage. “And perhaps you should have a nip of something yourself. After all, the party is nearly over and you look as if you could use a soother. Isn’t that Mr. Billdop standing out there by the bar counter?”