“I’m surprised you’re still at the door,” Gregory said, handing the man his hat and gloves.

“Lady Witney prefers I am on duty until midnight.” The man didn’t reflect his thoughts about that, but Gregory could imagine he didn’t like it. For heaven’s sake, the man ran a large household and would need to be up early to manage things.

Gregory tried not to frown and failed. “That’s far too late. Or have they let all the footmen go?” Of course they hadn’t. If anything, Susan had probably insisted they hire more.

“No. There is even an underbutler.”

“Then there is really no need for this,” Gregory said, growing angrier than he already was. He’d come here to read his brother the riot act. “I’ll speak to Clifford.”

“That isn’t necessary, my lord, but you are considerate to think of me. You always have been.” His gaze was warm and kind, and Gregory was sorry the man had to work in this household. Perhaps if Gregory ever found himself with a household large enough to support a butler, he’d hire him away.

When would that happen when Gregory couldn’t even launch the career he wanted?

“If you’re here to see Lord Witney, I’m afraid he’s not returned home yet,” Lightner said. “Lady Witney is in the Greek room.” He referred to Gregory’s father’s favorite room on the ground floor, which was decorated with Greek sculpture. A large, fanciful painting of Greek gods and goddesses held a focal point in the center of one wall. “Though, they aren’t calling it that anymore. It’s now the Gold Room.”

Gregory’s stomach knotted. What had she done? He found he had to see for himself. He could also vent some of his spleen at her since she was the primary source behind their ridiculous demands. “I’ll just go and say good evening,” Gregory said, his tone sounding sharp even to his own ears.

If Lightner noticed Gregory’s agitation, he didn’t indicate so. He merely inclined his head.

Walking swiftly as he allowed his anger to flow through him. Gregory made his way to the Greek Room. He wasn’t ever going to call it the Gold Room. As soon as he reached the threshold, his jaw dropped. Gold didn’t begin to describe the amount of…gold on display. Everything was either made of gold or gilded or colored gold. There were brief accents of cream. There wasn’t a Greek sculpture to be seen, and his father’s favorite painting was gone. In its place was some massive gilt-framed Rococo nightmare.

“You’ve made some changes,” Gregory said tightly.

Susan sat in a chair near the fire, a magazine in her lap. “Gregory, what a surprise.”

“I came to see Clifford, but Lightner said he was out.”