He bared teeth at Simon, balling his fists, before unballing them to clamber back into his own clothing. There was the sound of a door opening in the distance, and voices. One, the footman’s (who could barely buck his hips but was still better than Simon, apparently), and the other, somewhat new.

“The master is occupied at the moment,” the footman said.

“I can wait,” an outsider’s voice huffed. “Would I be here if I could not?”

There was a pause, and then the sliding of a chair.

“Jeeves,” Chris gritted out with a vengeful look.

Then, he looked to Simon with a sneer and a jerk of the head toward the window.