“With the other dogs?” She studied his face. “I don’t wish to make a nuisance of myself.”

He wanted to tell her that she hadn’t. That she wasn’t likely to. But the words wouldn’t come. She was looking at him too steadily, her eyes gazing into his.

“In my last position,” she said, “I was obliged to take Bertie out every three hours. He could only walk a short distance. Just to the end of the lane and back. It was hardly any exercise at all, but Mrs. Peak thought it my most important duty. She often claimed she hired me as much for Bertie as for herself.”

Neville feared he’d lost the thread of the conversation. “Mrs. Peak?”

“My former employer. Bertie was her dog. Like a child to her, really.” She reached for her glass. It was half filled with burgundy wine. “What time will you be taking the dogs out for their run?”

“At dawn.”

“It will be raining, I expect.”

“They won’t mind.” Paul and Jonesy enjoyed the rain. Or, more specifically, the mud.

“Bertie might. He abhors the cold weather. I suspect he has arthritis.”

“Would you?”

“Mind the rain? Not very much, but I mustn’t be careless with my health. If I caught cold, I’d be no use to anyone.” She raised her wineglass to her lips. “A companion can’t become a charge on the very person she’s meant to look after.”

He glanced down the table at Mrs. Bainbridge. She was seated beside Mr. Boothroyd, nodding energetically at something he was saying.

Was she a difficult lady to work for?

Neville couldn’t tell. He knew nothing of Laura Archer’s aunt. He’d only met Laura herself a week ago when she’d arrived on the train, newly married to Alex.

Everything was happening so quickly. How was a fellow supposed to keep track of it all?

Until last year, Greyfriar’s Abbey had housed only Justin, Neville, Mr. Boothroyd, and a handful of servants. A bachelor household, Justin had called it. It had been a ramshackle place, in a perpetual state of disrepair. Remote. Isolated.

Neville had preferred it that way.

Justin’s reputation had kept the villagers away. It still did to an extent. But Lady Helena’s presence had done much to dampen local gossip. And it hadn’t hurt that, when she’d taken up residence, she’d brought an entire fleet of servants along with her.

Now, the Abbey was always busy. A day didn’t pass without Neville having to speak with a servant or a guest. He was lucky if he could find sanctuary in the stables. They had three times as many horses, which meant more grooms and stable lads about, all of them asking questions or otherwise cutting up Neville’s peace.

It was easy not to notice his limitations when he never had to face them. The horses and dogs didn’t care if he didn’t speak. And when he did, they never looked at him askance. Never treated him as a fool or an idiot.