Tilton curled his nose. “How shabby of Lord Strathmore not to have a park for your amusement.”

“I shall tell him you think so.”

“Pray do. Otherwise I shall be forced to share my opinion with the upper footman in the hopes that he might tell the second housemaid, who is, I have been informed, sleeping with His Lordship’s valet. I would hate for Lord Strathmore to hear my opinion in such a hodgepodge manner.”

“Consider it done,” Devon said, waving a hand.

Tilton paused. “Would you indeed, sir?”

“Of course. One should never ask a servant to do what one is not willing to do oneself. I may want you to spread some gossip for me one day.”

The valet sniffed, his thin nostrils flaring. “I suppose next you will be offering to iron your own waistcoats. What a delight for me.”

Devon raised his brows. “I wouldn’t take it that far.”

“Then I’m to understand that in return for my extra services, you are only going to claim such duties as carrying gossip and, if pressed, an occasional note for a tryst, and not such duties as laundry, pressing the creases from your shirts, or polishing your boots?”

“I have to leave something for you to do. Otherwise I might realize I don’t need you, and you could lose your position.”

“Don’t tempt me, my lord,” Tilton said. “The Duke of Claridge has been asking for my services for years now.”

“That old clod-digger? You’d be miserable. He doesn’t dress, he merely rolls into his clothing. Besides, I have it on good authority that his funds are tied up on the ’change and he pays his servants in a very clutch-fisted manner.”

“Then Viscount Addinton. He cuts a good figure.”

“When he isn’t drunk. If that’s the turn you wish to take, I wish you well.” Devon knew Tilton would never leave his service; the valet had far too high an opinion of himself to work for anyone with less style. Besides, Devon paid handsomely and Tilton had little to complain about.

Devon glanced about the room Tilton had just moved them into. The valet had arrived the day after Devon and had wrought a miracle in one of the less damp chambers. Gone was the dust, grime, and gloomy air. The sheets and coverlet were fresh and crisp and even the rug was a brighter color than the others in the castle.

Truly, Tilton was worth his weight in gold. Devon picked up his gloves and tucked them into a pocket. “I’m off to ride with Miss Kat.”

“Cat, sir?”

“Miss Katherine Macdonald. Kat.”

“Ah. That would be His Lordship’s half sister.”

Devon cut him a glance. “You’ve heard about her?”

“Indeed, sir. I’ve heard all about Miss Macdonald and Miss Spalding.”