Servants weren’t supposed to consort with each other.
My gaze slid to the door that connected my room and Damien’s. If he was behind it and awake, I didn’t hear him reacting to the cry.
Damn it , I thought, my private all-purpose curse. I wore a nightgown—a real nightgown, not that useless negligee. For good measure, I drew on a robe as well. Tying the belt tight for courage, I checked the corridor.
Silence was my reward for sticking out my head.
I waited and held my breath. Still the shriek didn’t come again. I cocked my head. Possibly I heard another giggle, but it was far away.
My pulse began to settle. No one was being harmed. I could return to bed. As I did, an unexpected twinge of wistfulness touched me. Did I wish I were scampering illicitly through the house? Would I have traded places with whoever the shrieking giggler was? I knew little of fun or boldness—even less of rule breaking.
Then again, marrying a man I’d known a day probably qualified as daring.
My venture to the doorway finally caused my weariness to kick in. I was asleep, as the saying goes, before my head hit the pillow.
At some point during the hours of darkness, low male voices slipped into my dreams.
Do you think she’ll be up for it? one asked.
I don’t know , another answered, but there’s nothing wrong with her appetite. She took to bedplay like a duck to water .
Even in my sleep, I took umbrage at that comment.
She’s beautiful , the same man mused. And spirited, from what I can tell .
You like her , observed his companion.
Very much. I think . . . I hope she’s what we’ve been looking for .
I’d curled up on my side underneath the covers. Gentle fingers touched my arm and then my hair, brushing it from my cheek. I made a little noise—pleasure, I think—at the comforting sensation. I was only a girl in some ways, one who’d never felt very loved.
Someone bent, pressing warm lips to my temple. Sweet dreams, love. I’ll see you tomorrow.
The words echoed in my head when I woke at dawn. I dismissed them as wishful thinking. My husband was too much a stranger to speak to me so affectionately. Focusing on the here and now, I saw what disturbed my rest. A maid who was not Regina was quietly raking out my fire. She had a nice face: not pretty but interesting.
Maybe all the staff in this house were striking in some way.
“Sorry, milady,” she whispered, seeing me sit up groggily. “I didn’t mean to wake you. We got a late start today.”
Dawn was late? But of course it was for housemaids. Their work was supposed to be performed invisibly, as if they were magic elves.
“Shall I draw the curtains back?” she asked.
I nodded. “Do you know if my husband is awake?”
“No, milady. Do you need him for something?”
Did I? I remembered what we’d done last night: how wonderful he’d felt moving over and inside me. Heat coiled between my legs. Was I growing wet again?
“Just wondering,” I said, hoping I sounded casual. I went to the window she’d uncovered. My room overlooked a lovely knot garden, with shrubbery and flowerbeds in ornate swirls. I should have liked to walk there, but a team of gardeners was working in it now. I looked beyond the paths to a rolling green area.
“Is that a stable?” I asked, noting a stone building.
“Yes, milady. Mr. Call is a keen horseman.”
I didn’t think her words were meant to have a second meaning, but I blushed slightly nonetheless. “Yes,” I said. “I’ve heard he is.”
I wasn’t much of a rider. I preferred the speed and comfort of traveling in the car. On the other hand, I’d promised to try in good faith to come to care for Damien. Perhaps I ought to learn more of his interests.
“Will someone be at the stable now?” I inquired.
“Oh yes, milady. You’ll find Mr. Reed almost certainly.”
The mysterious Mr. Reed. “What do you know about the stable master?”
The maid had picked up her heavy bucket of cleaning tools, clearly
My gaze slid to the door that connected my room and Damien’s. If he was behind it and awake, I didn’t hear him reacting to the cry.
Damn it , I thought, my private all-purpose curse. I wore a nightgown—a real nightgown, not that useless negligee. For good measure, I drew on a robe as well. Tying the belt tight for courage, I checked the corridor.
Silence was my reward for sticking out my head.
I waited and held my breath. Still the shriek didn’t come again. I cocked my head. Possibly I heard another giggle, but it was far away.
My pulse began to settle. No one was being harmed. I could return to bed. As I did, an unexpected twinge of wistfulness touched me. Did I wish I were scampering illicitly through the house? Would I have traded places with whoever the shrieking giggler was? I knew little of fun or boldness—even less of rule breaking.
Then again, marrying a man I’d known a day probably qualified as daring.
My venture to the doorway finally caused my weariness to kick in. I was asleep, as the saying goes, before my head hit the pillow.
At some point during the hours of darkness, low male voices slipped into my dreams.
Do you think she’ll be up for it? one asked.
I don’t know , another answered, but there’s nothing wrong with her appetite. She took to bedplay like a duck to water .
Even in my sleep, I took umbrage at that comment.
She’s beautiful , the same man mused. And spirited, from what I can tell .
You like her , observed his companion.
Very much. I think . . . I hope she’s what we’ve been looking for .
I’d curled up on my side underneath the covers. Gentle fingers touched my arm and then my hair, brushing it from my cheek. I made a little noise—pleasure, I think—at the comforting sensation. I was only a girl in some ways, one who’d never felt very loved.
Someone bent, pressing warm lips to my temple. Sweet dreams, love. I’ll see you tomorrow.
The words echoed in my head when I woke at dawn. I dismissed them as wishful thinking. My husband was too much a stranger to speak to me so affectionately. Focusing on the here and now, I saw what disturbed my rest. A maid who was not Regina was quietly raking out my fire. She had a nice face: not pretty but interesting.
Maybe all the staff in this house were striking in some way.
“Sorry, milady,” she whispered, seeing me sit up groggily. “I didn’t mean to wake you. We got a late start today.”
Dawn was late? But of course it was for housemaids. Their work was supposed to be performed invisibly, as if they were magic elves.
“Shall I draw the curtains back?” she asked.
I nodded. “Do you know if my husband is awake?”
“No, milady. Do you need him for something?”
Did I? I remembered what we’d done last night: how wonderful he’d felt moving over and inside me. Heat coiled between my legs. Was I growing wet again?
“Just wondering,” I said, hoping I sounded casual. I went to the window she’d uncovered. My room overlooked a lovely knot garden, with shrubbery and flowerbeds in ornate swirls. I should have liked to walk there, but a team of gardeners was working in it now. I looked beyond the paths to a rolling green area.
“Is that a stable?” I asked, noting a stone building.
“Yes, milady. Mr. Call is a keen horseman.”
I didn’t think her words were meant to have a second meaning, but I blushed slightly nonetheless. “Yes,” I said. “I’ve heard he is.”
I wasn’t much of a rider. I preferred the speed and comfort of traveling in the car. On the other hand, I’d promised to try in good faith to come to care for Damien. Perhaps I ought to learn more of his interests.
“Will someone be at the stable now?” I inquired.
“Oh yes, milady. You’ll find Mr. Reed almost certainly.”
The mysterious Mr. Reed. “What do you know about the stable master?”
The maid had picked up her heavy bucket of cleaning tools, clearly
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