Anne glanced at the young footman lingering in the doorway, his eyes on Cedric, who was sitting stiffly in his chair by the fire, an odd look on his face. The footman, Thomas he’d been called, was auburn-haired and around her age. He realized she was looking at him and dropped his head, smiling shyly as he ducked out of the room.
“How are you able to do that? Tell the difference between Hartley and Thomas?” Anne poured two glasses of red wine and placed one in Cedric’s hand.
“How do I do what?”
“Know which person you are addressing when they haven’t spoken. I could understand if you recognized the voices, but Hartley did not even say a word when we got out of the coach. How did you know it wasn’t Thomas?”
“Ahh, well that’s simple. I just started calling them all Hartley. Simplifies thi
