He swung around to face the butler, who had served this household longer than Matthew had memory, standing in the doorway with an untied dressing gown hanging off his lanky form, a lamp held aloft in one hand, and a . . . no, it could not possibly be.

“Jenkins, is that a pistol you’re holding in your trembling hand?”

“Aye.”

“Pray, tell me it is not loaded.”

“What good is it unloaded, I ask you?”

“Then please point it at the floor and not at my person.”

The elderly gent did as ordered. “I heard a commotion, my lord, and came to investigate. Not knowing what to expect I came armed for trouble.”

“I did not create a commotion. I was as quiet as death.”

“Still, I heard you. What are you doing here, sir? Are you moving back in? Should I rouse the servants to start setting everything back to rights?”

“Don’t rouse anyone. I’m simply looking for the copy of Mr. William Shakespeares Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies.” He found some irony in the original title lacking the apostrophe that he’d accused the name of Miss Trewlove’s shop of not having. Published in the early part of the seventeenth century, the leather-bound book contained the original versions of his plays. One of Matthew’s ancestors had managed to purchase one of the only seven hundred and fifty copies printed. “Any notion as to where I might find it?”

Jenkins craned his neck, looking around the library, his eyes wide as though a horde of invaders had suddenly made an appearance. “No, my lord. Although I believe the rarest books are up there.” He nodded toward the shelves at the top of the staircase.

“You might be correct on that score.” He walked over to the desk, the only piece of furniture not shrouded. A large silver bowl was filled to overflowing with bits of vellum.

“The invitations you’ve received, sir.” Jenkins approached. Even in slippers, he made not a sound. The man had long ago mastered the art of not being heard or being seen as an intrusion when he entered a room. Often he left with no one the wiser. “As they weren’t on the list of items to be sent round to you, I wasn’t quite certain what to do with them.”

Toss them in the fire would no doubt give the butler an apoplectic fit. Matthew was relatively certain that for some of the events, the time for attending was past. Still a modicum of civility remained in him, and he knew he should at least send acknowledgment of having received them. “I’ll take them with me.”

“Very good, my lord.” Jenkins seemed far too relieved by that answer.