An impish sparkle entered Stephen’s eyes. “Derrick did give me a hand. A very well served one, in fact.”

“Did he? I just saw Derrick but he didn’t mention helping you, he just said that Mr. Gower had arrived.”

Stephen’s sudden grin had a wolfish tone to it. “It’s a pity Mr. Gower couldn’t stay, but something of great urgency called him away.”

Harriet frowned. “Stephen, Mr. Gower is in the sitting room.”

Stephen’s smile disappeared. “Our sitting room?”

“Of course,” Harriet said. “Why would you think he’d left?”

“I wish he had left,” Mrs. Maple huffed. “Instead o’ eatin’ all our scones. Cook made them special fer Mrs. Ward, she did.”

“Stephen?” Harriet asked again. “You and Derrick did something to put Mr. Gower into a rage, didn’t you?”

“Us?”

She narrowed her gaze. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing at all? Or nothing you want to tell me about?”

Stephen shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Mr. Gower that question. Only be forewarned, his temper might be a little ragged.”

Harriet didn’t wonder at that; from what she’d seen of Mr. Gower, his temper was never good. “I asked you two not to play your tricks on him. It was all I could do to soothe his spirits when you poured glue in his hat. He had to have his hair cut just to get it off.”

Stephen grinned. “That was Derrick’s idea. Rather clever, wasn’t it? But never fear, what happened this time was purely an accident.” His lips twitched. “A humorous accident, but an accident nonetheless.”

Wonderful. Yet more joy to brighten an otherwise frustrating day. “I’ll go and see what Mr. Gower wants,” Harriet said with a heavy sigh. “If he’s already in an ill mood, he will take exception to being left to cool his heels in the sitting room.”

“You do that,” Stephen said pleasantly. “Meanwhile, I’ll go upstairs and see if Mother needs any help with our visitor. Oh, and Harriet?”

“Yes?”

“Enjoy your visit with Mr. Gower.”

There was a definite tremor of humor in Stephen’s voice. The wretch.

“That boy,” Mrs. Maple said with a disapproving shake of his head as he made his way upstairs, the crutches scraping the wood steps.

“That boy is exactly like Father.” Harriet managed a reluctant smile. “Father couldn’t resist a good joke either.”

“No, he couldn’t. He was a good man, was your father.”

“I know. I miss him every day.” Harriet sighed. “I had best see to Mr. Gower before he starts gnawing on the furniture.”

“Very well, miss. And if he dangles fer a dinner invitation, tell him he’s already eaten it all and there’s none left.”

“I shall.” Harriet flashed a bright smile at the housekeeper and then made her way down the hall and let herself into the sitting room.

As soon as she shut the door, a large man turned from the window to face her. Dressed in a plain coat of brown worsted with a sober waistcoat of yellow kersey, Mr. Gower was a handsome man, if somewhat florid. Or he would have been handsome if his hair hadn’t been cut in quite such an extreme fashion.