servant, Pinkley, stared at her with pale, rheumy eyes, shock registering on his wrinkled face.
“Ah, Miz, it’s not wise to be out at this hour.”
Vivian slowed her breath. “I-I know. I merely wanted a book to read.”
“Ye should have rung yer bell.”
But no servant could be spared for her. She learned that lesson well enough yesterday. Not only with the hot bath water, but anytime she had a request, no one seemed to pay her any mind.
“Could you pl-please show me to my room? I have lost my way.”
“Aye.” The old man nodded. “Just come from that a-way.”
He turned around and headed back down from whence he came. She followed him, glancing at the walls as they went by. But nothing looked recognizable. The house was so unremarkable and gloomy there was nothing to mark her attention.
Finally, Pinkley stopped at a door. “’Ere it is, Miz.”
Vivian opened the wooden door and slipped inside the room. Familiar blood red curtains hung above the bed. The walnut dresser and massive, ancient tapestry were as she left them. Oddly, she experienced a slight soothing comfort in their presence.
Vivian shivered. What a fool she was! Who knew what manner of men roamed these unlit corridors.
Even without the supposed threat of ghosts and phantoms, real men lived within these walls. Men who could easily attack or injure her. She was not witless enough to believe that Martin was the only such man who thrived by preying on the weaker gender.
But what of Lord Ashworth? She glanced behind her at their adjourning door, ice again in her veins. It was dark. Had he been the man to seize her in a frightening grip?
Vivian unbraided her hair and climbed atop the bed. The heavy blankets calmed her anxious heart like tight wrappings calmed a crying infant.
Still, it would be hours before she could lose herself to sleep.
“I heard you were lost in the halls last night.”
Vivian glanced up from her plate of ham and tomatoes. Her midnight eyes measured him, perhaps guessing his questioning. “Yes, I suppose Pinkley told you.”
“Aye.” Though Ashworth heard it first from Harry. The boy could not wait for breakfast to tell him what he saw late last night. The angel in white had come up to see him, the boy said. Thankfully, Harry had done as he was bid and had not interacted with Vivian.
She dabbed her mouth with the napkin, then set it upon the plate. “Am I forbidden from leaving my rooms at night?”
A muscle ticked on Ashworth’s jaw as a distressing feeling settled in his stomach. Relief that she was not harmed, yet anger at her foolishness. He crossed the room, glowering at her. “It is unwise.”
“Unwise. But not forbidden.”
He leaned across the table, flattening his palms on both sides of her dish. Instantly, the odor of the ham vanished and her tantalizing honeysuckle scent rose to torture him. “I have warned you of this house, yet you disregard me.”
Her quick glance away and momentary biting of her lip told him that something else had happened in the late hours of the night. Had The Monster paid her another visit?
A knot formed in his gut. “You are keeping something from me.”
Her gaze returned to his. “No.”
“I must teach you to lie better or our little folly will be seen through quickly enough.”
Vivian lifted her chin, the small dimple mocking him. “I will not allow Lady Wainscott to know the truth of our arrangement.”
Ashworth snorted and stood. If he didn’t do something this morning, Catherine would see through their charade by tea time.
He waved her over to the recessed nook, where the clouds performed their morning dance with the sun. The sporadic sun shone through the stained glass, sparkling oddly shaped colors on the floor. She followed him, standing in her plain gray dress with her back to the window, hands clasped gently before her.
“My lord?”
“Let me assess how well you can lie.”
She nodded. “Go on.”
“Do you enjoy my kisses?”
“My—my
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