Page 53 of Desperately Seeking Seduction

The occupants of this part of the house, guests, were hours away from waking, thankfully, and she expected to see no one at all around. The hallway was cast in deep shadows broken only by the light of the waning moon. She moved swiftly down the hall, keeping her steps light and noiseless, hoping to rouse no one with her passage to the servants’ staircase.

She had almost made it when a tired voice rang out, startling herself with its proximity.

“I see I’m not the only one unable to stay asleep,” a voice murmured to her right.

Winston froze, recognizing the voice in an instant as belonging to her father. What was he doing awake at this hour?

“No, sir,” she mumbled, dipping her chin low so he could not see too much of her face. Thankfully the darkness would mask most of her features. “Good morning.”

“Good it is not, for I have not managed a wink of sleep all night and it has left me with a bitter taste in my mouth.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Is there anything I can do?”

Winston kicked herself for making that offer. But it was out of her mouth and could not be taken back.

He drew closer, limping. “You’re a servant here?”

“Yes, sir. I’m Lord Stratford’s valet.”

“Ah, so you work for the younger son of the old duke,” he said as he brushed past her shoulders. “I’m sure he will not mind if I appropriate your services for a moment. Come with me.”

Winston quaked and turned slowly, keeping her chin down still. “How might I be of service?”

“An object fell from my hand and rolled under the bed earlier in the evening. I am unable to reach it myself,” he grumbled. “Get it for me.”

“I’d be more than happy to fetch it, sir,” she promised, nodding and ducking through his doorway. She crossed the darkened room, relieved there were no candles lit. The bed seemed to be in a terrible shambles from his restless attempts to fall sleep.

She flicked up the bedding hanging over the side and ducked under the frame, easily finding the pencil he’d lost. It was the kind she’d once used for her own lessons with the endless tutors he’d hired for her as a child. She scrambled out again, brushed off her front in case of dust and placed the pencil on a table beside the bed instead of giving it to him directly. She did not want to get too close. She could not allow him to see her face clearly. “If there’s nothing else?”

“You might stir the fire and light a few candles. I dislike the dark.”

“The dark is only the absence of light,” Winston answered. She bent to the task of stirring the fire, trying not to worry about the silence behind her.

When the flames had risen sufficiently, she stood to snatch up a candlestick to light the rest with. Father shuffled to a chair close to the fire and sat himself down with a groan. “Ah, that’s better. I should have done it myself but it’s much easier and less painful to have someone younger than me do the bending.”

Winston lighted the candles placed far away from him and then bowed in his vague direction. “You’re welcome, sir.”

“Oh, do not leave before you light this one right here by my side. I feel inclined to read a while.”

She gulped. To reach that candle, she had to stand directly in front of him. “Yes, sir.”

Winston carried a lighted candle across the room to do his bidding. She kept her eyes on the flames—even as she heard her father gasp out loud.

She lit the candle for him. There could be no hiding her face with so much illumination shining upon it now.

She looked down at him. Facing her fear. His expression was one of utter shock to see her standing there.

She inclined her head and asked, “If there’s nothing else, sir.”

When he seemed incapable of answering, Winston took that as a sign it was time to depart the room. She knew that once he’d thought about her existence a little longer, he could have a great many unpleasant things to say to her. She’d rather not hear any of it.

Winston stalked out of the room and left the door wide open behind her. Went to the servants’ stairs and rushed down them. She burst out of the stairwell and threw her back against it and buried her face in her hands.

Father had seen her! He might come after her. Decry her existence and expose her disguise to everyone. He could use her charade as a means of embarrassing Stratford, and the entire Sweet family.

“No,” she said—at the same time another woman did, too. And then that other woman kept on saying the word as the sounds of a struggle became clearer.

Win threw herself off the door and searched for the altercation, finding Philips accosting Mrs. Derry on the kitchen floor.