“Davies,” Malcolm said with a disgusted snort. “He’s never where he should be. Still, I’m surprised one of the footmen didn’t mention it.” Malcolm looked at the humped-back old man who stood by the buffet and said loudly, “Damn it, Ketron! Why didn’t you tell me St. John had arrived?”

The old man didn’t look up but continued with his task, his blue-veined hands trembling as he lifted the pitcher to pour water into the glass. Large droplets splattered everywhere, sizzling on the ham plate.

“By St. Brennan’s boat, I am surrounded by imbeciles and deaf mutes!” Malcolm sighed, then shrugged as if to move past his irritation, a pained smile touching his mouth. “There’s naught for it now. Accept my apologies, St. John. I shall have to force you to drink a bottle or two of my best port as a way to offer solace for my shortcomings as a host.”

“I accept,” Devon said without hesitation.

“Thank you. You always were a generous man.” Malcolm glared at the elderly retainer. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, things are in a wee bit of disarray.”

That was an understatement. Devon cleared his throat and said politely, “I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that.”

“Yes, it is. These servants are horrid. They were m’father’s, most of them. The only ones who would stay. Except that one.” Malcolm nodded toward the ancient footman who was now slowly wiping up the spilled water using the corner of his coat. “That one was a wedding gift from Fiona’s mother. The harridan swore she was doing us a great service and claimed that he was indispensable to her household. At the time I thought she was being too generous, but now I am not so certain.”

“A parson’s gift, hm?”

“Aye. I think the real reason she sent him here was to cause us the greatest inconvenience she could. Devon, honestly, the man cannot hear a word.”

Devon chuckled. “How inconsiderate.”

“Aye. But enough of my misfortunes.” Malcolm gestured to the table. “Come and eat!” He waited for Devon to sit before he took a chair. Then he said in a very loud voice, “Ketron, bring another plate!”

The old man didn’t so much as blink, but continued, ever so slowly, to wipe yet another bead of water off the sideboard.

Malcolm closed his eyes, a deep crease appearing on his forehead. After a moment, he opened his eyes. “Perhaps I should just get it for you.”

“Oh no—”

“Nonsense,” Malcolm said, standing up with the air of a man who has suffered long and sees no end in sight. He made his way to the buffet, where he startled the butler by reaching past him to get a plate and then piled it high with a spoonful of every dish available.