Chase allowed it. Johnson would be horrified if his attendance to his master’s command were thwarted.

“Give his boots a quick buff too,” Nicholas said.

If Johnson minded performing these duties for an additional person, nothing in his expression revealed it.

Finally made presentable enough for Nicholas, so presumably for the rest, Chase sat in one of the blue damask upholstered chairs set in a circle. Nicholas had already ensconced himself in another one.

“Who else among the old servants remains?” Chase asked.

“The butler and the housekeeper for now. I doubt they will stay more than another month. They are hoping to find the rest of the permanent staff, and their own replacements, in that time.”

“No others?”

“It seems to me that the cook has not changed, nor a few scullery maids down there. I recognize two of the grooms as having served when I visited Uncle Frederick.” He shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“There are too many strangers about for my liking.” If Minerva Hepplewhite found employment here, so she could spy, others might have too. Chase regretted he had not thought to bring in a few extra eyes himself.

He pictured her building those fires, unseen by the chamber’s occupants. Listening. “It might have been wiser to refuse to host this house party, if it meant so many strangers in the house.”

“Too late for that advice.” Nicholas’s dismissive tone set the topic aside. “Kevin sought me out. He is bitter.”

“They are all bitter. He only has more cause for it than the others.”

“Hell of a thing, for a man to devote his life to something and have his benefactor remove his support upon death. It was uncle’s to do with as he chose, but some of it is damned unjust.”

Chase wondered if Nicholas included himself in the unjust part. When a man inherits a title he expects the estate to provide the income required to maintain the position. Nicholas would probably manage, but he would be gritting his teeth over the finances for years to come.

“You, for example,” Nicholas said. “He liked you more than he did most of us. You indulged his whims and peculiarities. You spent time with him, whether on his expensive pastimes or riding with him. To cut you off without so much as a farthing . . . He defended you when you sold out your commission and others were saying—” Nicholas ceased talking like a man who had said too much.

“He told me there would be nothing.”

“So you said. Still—”

Still. Had he thought in the end Uncle Frederick would drop a sentence into his will and surprise his favorite nephew? Had he hoped for it? Any man would. Yet, he knew in his heart it would not happen. The duke had many strange ideas, and some sound ones, and both kinds played a role in that will.