Chapter 9. It was a week later, at nearly half-past ten in the morning, when Kit Baxter

appeared in the doorway of a well-appointed dining room in a fashionable district of the city.

She squinted as she stepped into the broad sunbeam, pouring in through the large picture window,

and made her way towards the table on the far side of the room.

There was a time when she could not have helped but realize that most of the house she had grown

up in would likely fit inside this opulent room. Even in the homes of the city's finest families,

this would be considered a grand space. In this house, it was unofficially known among the servants as the breakfast nook,

as it was considered too modest to entertain anyone worth having to dinner. Not that the

current resident of the mansion entertained much in the family home, but those who had been

in the Fenwick family's service since his parents' time could only remember and hope.

Such a one was Thompson, the

butler, who stood near his master's left shoulder, awaiting instructions. It was, of course,

already an hour at which any respectable person should have long ago finished breakfast and

begun their day, but Thompson was not one to judge his betters. If the master of the house

wished to play at Gadabout for a few years,

it was the privilege of his position and his birth,

and Thompson never thought to disapprove.

He did, however, disapprove of Kit Baxter.

He disapproved of her a great deal.

The head butler was considered to be the senior position in a household such as this,

and the servants should know their place.

So it had been since Thompson had first entered service,

...