He clenched his fist on the window frame. Did she even care what his dismissal would mean to this land?

Behind him, the door opened. “Mr. Pye, I think you must be one of those odious early risers.”

He relaxed his fingers and turned around.

Lady Georgina strolled toward him in a dress a shade deeper than her blue eyes. “When I sent for you at nine this morning, Greaves looked at me like I was noddycock and informed me you would have left your cottage hours ago.”

Harry bowed. “I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you, my lady.”

“As well you should be.” Lady Georgina sat on a black and green settee, leaning back casually, her blue skirts spread around her. “Greaves has a knack of making one feel like a babbling infant in leading strings.” She shuddered. “I can’t think how horrible it must be working as a footman under him. Aren’t you going to sit?”

“If you wish, my lady.” He chose an armchair. What was she about?

“I do wish.” Behind her, the door opened again, and two maids entered bearing laden trays. “Not only that, but I’m afraid I’m going to insist upon you taking tea as well.”

The maids arranged the teapot, cups, plates, and all the other confusing stuff of an aristocratic tea on a low table between them and left.

Lady Georgina lifted the silver teapot and poured. “Now, you will have to bear with me and try not to glower so menacingly.” She waved aside his attempted apology. “Do you take sugar and cream?”

He nodded.

“Good. Plenty of both, then, for I’m sure you have a secret sweet tooth. And two slices of shortbread. You’ll just have to shoulder it like a soldier.” She offered the plate to him.

He met her eyes, oddly challenging. He hesitated a moment before taking the plate. For a fraction of a second, his fingers brushed hers, so soft and warm, and then he sat back. The shortbread was tender and flaky. He ate the first piece in two bites.

“There.” She sighed and sank into the cushions with her own plate. “Now I know how Hannibal felt after having conquered the Alps.”

He felt his mouth twitch as he watched her over the rim of his cup. The Alps would have sat up and begged had Lady Georgina marched toward them with an army of elephants. Her ginger hair was a halo around her face. She might’ve looked angelic if her eyes hadn’t been so mischievous. She bit into a slice of shortbread, and it fell apart. She picked up a crumb from her plate and sucked it off her finger in a very unladylike way.

His balls tightened. No. Not for this woman.

He set down his teacup carefully. “Why did you wish to speak to me, my lady?”