Reeve gestured toward the apparatus with a sweeping move of his arm. “Help yourself, Miss Chamberlin. Never let it be said that I am an unreasonable master.”

“You are not my master,” Maggie pointed out in a chill fury as she rounded Reeve and swept into the huge, masculine room, passing the billiard table to stand facing the telephone. She had never used one before, and she felt stupid and awkward for hesitating now. She whirled, her hands on her hips, and started because Reeve had been right on her heels. He was standing so close, in fact, that she could see the tiny specks of silver in his aquamarine eyes. “I’m an actress, not a servant, and I’ll thank you to remember it.”

“I own you,” Reeve immediately retorted, “lock, stock, and barrel, you saucy little wench, and I could just as well make you a scullery maid or a mistress, if that’s what I wanted to do!”

There was a limit to what one person could endure, Maggie reflected to herself, deliberately keeping her face impassive as she drew back her foot and planted it firmly in the middle of Reeve McKenna’s shin.

A stunned expression crossed his face and then, an instant later, he howled with pain and reached for the injured portion of his anatomy.

Maggie turned and walked imperiously over to the telephone, taking up the receiver and putting it to her ear. After that she had no idea what to do.

Reeve reached past her shoulder to turn a little handle affixed to the side of the hulking machine, which in turn was attached to the wall.

“Central!” said a nasal voice over the wire, and Maggie jumped, her eyes rounding.

Reeve, standing entirely too close, smiled down at her in a way that could be described only as impudent. Clearly, he intended to eavesdrop on the conversation, should Maggie manage to have one.

“Central,” repeated the disembodied voice, sounding impatient now.

“I would like to speak with Lady Cosgrove, at the Girls’ Friendly Society, please.”

Reeve arched an eyebrow at this, and the set of his mouth had softened slightly, Maggie noticed. A series of clicks and whirrings met her ear as the call was put through.

Lady Cosgrove came on the line only after Maggie had spoken to her assistant first, and she was chagrined at interrupting an apparently busy day. She stated her name and was about to ask after Tansy when Lady Cosgrove suddenly cut her off with, “Oh, yes—Margaret Chamberlin. Mr. Kirk has sent word that you abandoned his household—at a very inconvenient juncture—to become an actress.”

The chill in the woman’s voice was withering. Maggie was very careful not to meet Reeve’s eyes. She tried to explain. “Lady Cosgrove, there were extenuating circumstances,” she began, only to hear a loud crash at the other end of the line.