Page 21 of Desperately Seeking Seduction

At least she reacted like a woman should when pawed at. He put his hands behind his back and winked at her. “No one will miss me yet.”

“I’m certain that is not true. The butler made it very clear that your timely arrival was essential to the smooth running of the household.” She lifted up a fresh shirt and held it with two fingers at each side, clearly waiting for him to strip his old one off and don the new one.

“Seymour can be a tiresome old windbag at times, forever chiding Cuthbert for my tardiness too. Pay him no mind.” Stratford grinned. How very sweet of her to worry that he was not late for his appointments though.

He slowly peeled off his waistcoat, unbuttoned his shirt front, and then tugged the garment over his head. When he came out, he was pleased to see Win’s eyes were fixed on his bare chest. He inhaled, and her lips parted slightly.

At least she had sense enough to react in the usual way women did when faced with a partially undressed male.

He took two steps in her direction. By rights, he ought not to be pleased by her response, or even tease her. But she had entered his service by deception. Taken complete advantage of his desperation. She’d used him.

She had also taken over from Cuthbert so completely, he hadn’t even missed the old fellow. He looked down at Win’s serious face now, and that small distraction he’d suffered earlier expanded into a much larger fascination with her response to the sight of him.

He was attracted to Win—but was not certain what to do about that. She was technically in his employ, and he did not dabble with servants. But if he was going to have to marry her, at least he would want her.

Except, Win should never have put them in this position in the first place. She should have been living with her family rather than doing the work of a man.

He grappled with his conscience and unexpected lust a few minutes more before putting it firmly aside to deal with later. Win was right. He really shouldn’t be too tardy for today’s luncheon with family. He had promised to keep the more ambitious and determined family members out of Algernon’s orbit as much as possible. And he also had to keep an eye on Cousin George. The man was up to something.

He donned the shirt and reached for the buttons on his trousers. Win instantly turned away to pick up his fresh breeches. It was damned awkward to suddenly be so worried about giving Win an eyeful when he’d never worried about it before. But then he’d also never suffered an erection in front of a valet. He managed to change from one garment to the other in record time, and he was fairly certain she’d seen nothing she shouldn’t this time.

He took the cravat from her, and she started picking up the clothing he’d strewn across the floor. His glance landed on her well-shaped rear again, clearly defined by the trousers she wore so well. He cursed silently under his breath for being so blind. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to desire her, but he liked what he saw a little too much. He’d never been one for voluptuous creatures like the woman he was currently painting. All a man needed was a willing woman with all the right parts.

“I can dress myself, and clean up afterward, too,” he promised, intending to spare her the chore.

Win snatched up his dirty trousers and shook them at him. “You need a valet. I will not allow you to make a less than perfect impression for your family. I will be blamed for any lapses in your standard of dress.”

He pulled a comb through his hair quickly, lest she think of doing that for him still. “What does it matter what anyone thinks of Winston the valet? He doesn’t exist.”

“I am him.” Win thrust a navy-blue waistcoat at him. “Put this on.”

His dressing continued in that vein, Win ordering and Stratford complying, and they both fell silent. Win was clearly a proud woman, even caught out pretending to be a man. Someone keen to do her work well even with the discovery of her gender out in the open between them. As she pressed him into a chair to take over the tying of his cravat, Stratford risked a peek at her face from a closer distance.

She really had fooled him, and there was no reason to suspect she wouldn’t have gone on fooling him for considerably longer if he’d not accidentally stared at her well-shaped rear. There was good reason to get rid of her before anyone found out. However, someone as skilled would be impossible to find until Cuthbert returned. And he did need a competent valet. Someone who could keep their mouth shut and attend to the maintenance of his wardrobe. But Win was a distraction he’d no time for at the moment.

When luncheon was over, he would have to sneak her out of the manor and send her on her way. Somewhere more suited to her gender. Somewhere safe from lecherous men like himself. Perhaps she could go off as a companion or even as some poor fellow’s wife. He conceded that a woman used to acting a man might not make a comfortable marriage partner. Not unless the fellow was understanding or—he pulled a face—completely as clueless as he’d been.

There wasn’t much that was soft about Win at that moment. She was currently scowling at him again. “What are you waiting for, my lord? Go!”

He winced. Definitely a woman to have taken that tone with him. “You’ll need to stay here until I get back.”

“Will I?”

“Yes. I do need to join my family, but we have much to talk about.”

“Do we?”

“Yes, you promised me answers,” he reminded her.

“I recall no such promise,” she claimed.

And with a sudden burst of clarity, he realized that Win never intended to explain her deception. All her rushing about and getting him ready for the family luncheon had been in preparation for separating them. He scowled back at her. What did she intend to do while he was busy elsewhere? The not knowing bothered him a great deal.

“No one knows about you yet, and I am certainly not about to tell anyone I hired a woman to act as my valet. I would be laughed out of the house.”

She did seem a little embarrassed by that. “I wanted this position. If I had realized you were so ridiculous, I never would have let you employ me, either.”

“Ridiculous. Well, that’s calling the kettle black. It is not me wearing trousers when you should be wearing skirts and spending your days embroidering. But we are stuck together for now. There are worse things in life, surely, than remaining in a luxurious bedchamber for a few hours.”