“So he hadn’t seen your figurines for a very long time, either? In fact, not since you were a boy.” She frowned, fingering the squirrel. “Because I don’t care what Lord Granville says, twelve years old is still just a boy.”

“Maybe.” The kettle started steaming. Harry got up, took down the brown teapot from his cupboard, and put in four spoonfuls of tea. He grabbed a cloth to lift the kettle from the fire. Lady Georgina moved aside and watched as he poured the boiling water.

“Maybe what?” She knit her brow. “Which question were you really answering?”

Harry set the teapot on the table and looked over his shoulder at her. “Which were you really asking?” He sat down again. “My lady.”

She blinked and seemed to consider. Then she replaced the squirrel and crossed to the shelves. She picked up the two cups and a packet of sugar and brought them back to the table. She sat down across from him and poured the tea.

Harry stilled.

Lady Georgina was fixing him his tea, in his own house, at his own table, just like a country woman would, tending to her man after he’d had a hard day of work. It didn’t feel at all like this morning in her sitting room. Right now it felt wifely. Which was a daft thought because she was the daughter of an earl. Only she didn’t look like a lady at the moment. Not when she was adding sugar to his cup and stirring it in for him. All she looked like was a woman—a very desirable woman.

Damn. Harry tried to will his cock back down, but that part of his body had never listened to reason. He tasted the tea and grimaced. Did other men get cockstands over a cup of tea?

“Too much sugar?” She looked worriedly at his cup.

The tea was rather sweet for his taste, but he wasn’t about to say that. “It’s fine, my lady. Thank you for pouring.”

“You’re welcome.” She took a sip of her own tea. “Now, as to what I’m really asking. How exactly did you know Lord Granville in the past?”

Harry closed his eyes. He was too weary for this. “Does it matter, my lady? You’ll be letting me go soon enough, anyway.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Lady Georgina frowned. Then she caught his look. “You don’t think that I believe you murdered those sheep, do you?” Her eyes widened. “You do.”

She put her cup back on the table with a sharp click. Some of the tea sloshed over the edge. “I know that I don’t always seem very serious, but please acquit me of being a complete nincompoop.” She scowled at him as she stood, arms akimbo like a red-haired Boadicea. All she needed was a sword and chariot.

“Harry Pye, you no more poisoned those sheep than I did!”