Matilda stood still while his lordship plucked at the ties of her apron. She flinched when he gave the bow a hard tug, and then he was facing her again.

“Shall I cut the blasted thing off you?”

“Please do not. This is my only good apron. I was in a hurry this morning, and I tied it too tightly.”

Tremont regarded her. “And why were you in a hurry?”

“Because Jessup and Jensen were squabbling outside my apartment door, and Nan’s reaction was to offer to hold the men’s bets. That provoked the combatants to greater flights of vituperation, and then MacIvey and MacPherson came along, and MacIvey put Tommie on his shoulders so Tommie had a better view of the argument as the inevitable crowd formed. I did not know whether to chastise Nan, the maids, MacIvey, or the lot of them at once. That altercation began the day on the wrong foot. Then I find Nan and Cook enjoying one of their eight daily pots of tea, again, when the washing has long since been dry on the lines and is just begging to be rained upon.”

A beat of silence followed that tirade, then Tremont circled around behind her again. “The new officer is always subjected to a few tests of authority. Hold still.”

For Matilda to merely wait while a man, unseen, fussed with her clothing was unaccountably unnerving. A few more tugs and a good hard pull, and the knot was undone.

“How did you resolve the altercation?” Tremont asked as Matilda extricated herself from her apron.

“I sent Jessup and Jensen to neutral corners—one to inventory the linen, the other to canvass the attics. You have furniture up there, furniture the men might refurbish and sell. Amos Tucker apparently knows how that’s done. He apprenticed to a cabinetmaker before the war. Why are you looking at me like that?”

Tremont’s perusal had taken on a considering look, as if he might be doubting the wisdom of hiring a widow to manage a lot of hooligans and streetwalkers.

“We were to review the books today,” he said. “I suggest we undertake that task at my house. You could do with some fresh air and a ramble, while I… I think better when I walk, and the situation here wants some thought. I didn’t know Tucker was a cabinetmaker.”

“He’s not. He was recruited just six months shy of finishing his articles. His old master died while Tucker was off soldiering, and Tucker isn’t about to start the whole seven years over in another shop, assuming one would take him on.”

“If you come home with me, I will order us a three-bell tea tray, and you can gobble up tarts to your heart’s content. Where’s Tommie?”

The notion of sitting down before a full tray, enjoying a cup of hot tea, and getting away from the house was all too appealing.