Page 14 of Desperately Seeking Seduction

Winston snorted a half laugh. “The door between us can be firmly shut. You will sleep comfortably, I swear. So will everyone.”

“Well, I’d rather not risk it. You will eat tonight. I will make certain something is sent up to fill that empty belly of yours.”

Winston’s eyes flew to him, wide and afraid. “Please don’t do that. I want no special treatment.”

He winked at the fellow. “Leave it to me. They’ll never know the truth. I’m already too full of the dinner I just left. Sixteen courses in total. I’ll be the size of a barn before we go back to London. Besides, I cannot have you wasting away to nothing. There’s hardly any meat on your bones as it is. Whoever comes will say the food is for me, but I expect you to eat it all before I return. “

Winston lowered his eyes and, after a moment, muttered, “Thank you.”

Pleased that he was able to do something good for the fellow, Stratford slapped a hand upon Winston’s shoulder. “We can help each other this week.”

Beneath his touch, Winston’s bones seemed almost as delicate as a woman’s. Stratford lifted his hand away quickly, less the moment become too personal and awkward. He couldn’t remember touching Cuthbert as if they were equals, or ever wanting to. There were certainly lines that could not be crossed when it came to companionship between master and valet. “I’ll be on my way now.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He smiled tightly, glad that Winston had ignored his earlier offer of informality. Servants did not go around addressing their betters by their given name. He didn’t know what had gotten into him to even suggest such a thing. Coming home, and the news he’d learned, had certainly unsettled his view of the world.

He took his leave of Winston before he did anything he might consider foolish and made his way back downstairs. It seemed like the party had largely broken up while he’d been gone but the most persistent cousins still crowded the duke. There seemed to be a heated debate over racing the late duke’s inherited thoroughbreds. George Sweet was in the thick of the discussion as usual, urging the duke to run his best during the late summer season.

Crawford was there in the background, but his wife was not.

Stratford sidled up to his friend. “Aren’t you glad not to have missed this little get-together?”

“I could strangle your eldest brother for shortening our honeymoon for this if given half a chance,” he said with a tight smile. “However, I am grateful for the fuss he’s making for my wife’s benefit. She’s so glad to have his support in front of the family.”

“So, tell me, what’s it like to have a shackle attached to your leg?”

“By Amity, wonderful.” Crawford looked over the gathering. “But the rest of this I could gladly do without.”

“At least it was you who ruined her,” Stratford murmured, then remembered he should take the opportunity to strike Crawford’s upper arm while the incident of Amity’s scandal was still largely unspoken of between them. “I should forever be mad had it been anyone else.”

“If it’s any consolation, she ruined me too. After her, I wanted none other,” Crawford promised, wearing a rare blush.

“Yes, I do realize that now too. You were pining away in want of your true love,” he teased. He inhaled and let it out slowly. It had been months since Amity was ruined and then disappeared from London, and the shock of her behavior had already largely subsided for him. But Crawford had been acting oddly ever since that night. Moping about, long-faced. Ignoring perfectly good women who would have gladly shared his bed.

Stratford might have suspected something had gone on between the pair if he’d remembered to pay more attention. But at least Amity had found herself a good husband in Crawford, so he couldn’t really complain about any of it. Crawford had been his best friend for years, after all. A better man could never be found. “So, you are now a cousin. I don’t like very many of those.”

Crawford grinned. “I trust I will be one of the few you feel you can rely upon.”

“Well, you saved my cousin from her brother’s scheming. I suppose I cannot fault you,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. Where were the servants tonight? He had a valet to see fed.

Crawford turned to look at him. “So, which is it? Are you mad at me or not?”

“It changes upon the hour,” he replied airily and then shrugged the discussion away as he caught sight of a potential problem across the room. “But my opinion is the least of your problems. My loathsome cousin’s wife is watching you.”

Lady Melody Sweet had once been Crawford’s only love. But that was before her marriage to George had separated them forever.

Crawford did not lift his gaze in her direction. “Yes, I know.”

Stratford grinned and nodded to the woman his friend had once loved and lost. Melody Sweet was a vain and jealous creature, even now. Judging by her expression, she was still hoping there was a place somewhere in Crawford’s affections for her. “Has she said anything to you?”

“Not a word directly. But she looks daggers at my wife whenever they are in the same room.”

Amity and Melody were sisters by marriage. Family affairs like this would forever throw them together. “Best to keep them apart for a while, for Amity’s sake.”

“That is exactly what the duke suggested I do, too, but I’d already planned to,” Crawford promised. “I know which side of the family had my wife’s best interests at heart, and those who did nothing to help her.”

“You should have known that from the outset,” Stratford chided. “Amity is our favorite female cousin, after all.” He glanced over his shoulder, worried about how his starving valet was faring upstairs. He hoped Winston understood that everything here took an age to arrange. He hoped the man would also still be awake when he returned to his chambers, to discuss him posing for his painting, too.