Page 17 of Desperately Seeking Seduction

Then there was some talk about Lord Stratford, her employer—a man all the maids swooned over but who never seemed to remember their names. They fell over each other to be helpful still. They thought him the most charming and the friendliest of all the Sweet brothers.

At least they were not so foolish as to imagine any of the family could ever have honorable intentions for any woman who fell for their charms.

“If there’s nothing else, sir, we’ll be on our way,” a maid called out.

Winston turned and surveyed the room. She judged it done to an acceptable standard and waived them out.

The maids curtsied and offered hesitant smiles as they left the room together, which Winston did not dare respond to in kind. They resumed their gossip as soon as the door was closing behind their backs. Once Winston was sure they were gone, she exhaled in relief and then moved to uncover the painting Lord Stratford was currently working on, expecting his return at any moment.

Her employer did not like anyone to view his unfinished works. She could understand why when it came to this particular one. She checked his brushes and paints were exactly where he expected them.

Next, she fetched the dress the model had been wearing for the portrait. The dreaded red dress he wanted her to wear for him. It was a gown for a woman of high society. Someone he knew and admired.

Winston paused near the mirror and held it before herself again. Red seemed to suit her complexion, as far as she could tell. She wasn’t versed well enough in feminine fashion to really know. The neckline was modest, but the fabric was sheer enough to see a body through. If she dared to wear the gown for Lord Stratford, he would see her body…and too easily realize that she lacked the usual male appendages and had others that screamed her gender.

That had been how her father had discovered she was not male. She’d been away from the manor with him and had to relieve herself. Father, impatient to reach home by nightfall, had told her to do it right there, standing beside the carriage. She’d disobeyed and rushed for the woods to go behind a tree instead. That had angered him, and Father had followed to chastise his son for foolish modesty. She’d already lowered her trousers to squat as women did and been found out.

The red dress would be her undoing if she ever wore it for Lord Stratford.

And, just like her father, Lord Stratford would want to be rid of her immediately.

The door behind her creaked, and she turned to find a man she’d never seen before slip into the chamber and quietly shut the door behind himself. A stranger clad in black from head to toe. The duke and a cousin of his wore black exclusively, the maids had just said, but which one was this man? And why was he skulking about and rousing her suspicions? He looked a bit like her employer, if she squinted, but she could not think him at all appealing.

Winston put the dress on the bed and stepped forward quickly, so he’d notice he was not alone. “Might I help you?”

The stranger froze, his hand still on the latch, and he looked about for her.

Winston studied him as he studied her for a long moment.

The man was heavy set, taller than Lord Stratford, and had none of his presence. He held himself like a lord but did not quite look the part. Was he one of Lord Stratford’s brothers?

His lips twitched in a smile. “Ah, I was looking for Stratford.”

“He’s not here,” she answered without giving him a title at all just in case it was the Duke, or even Lord Jasper wearing black for a change. Since he’d smiled, she was fairly sure it was not Lord Nash Sweet.

“Yes, so I see now.”

This fellow had an oily look about him. He struck her as dishonest. “Might I offer my assistance?”

“No. No. That is quite all right. I merely wished to have a word with my cousin.”

Relief coursed through her. This was not the Duke of Ravenswood or a brother, but perhaps the cousin who also wore black.

“Very good.” She ought to get his name. “I’m more than happy to help if I can, sir?”

“No. I’ll find him later,” the stranger said, offering up a coin to her with another smile. “I’m sure I will cross his path soon enough.”

Against her better judgement, she accepted the vail and with a last look around, the man slipped from the chamber again. Winston held up the copper half farthing between two fingers. Such a coin was not enough to buy her silence.

Perhaps he was miserly by habit. But then she shrugged and pocketed the money. She had been paid for information, not her silence.

Winston was just finished laying out the gown across the bed the way it was supposed to be arranged when Lord Stratford returned, disheveled from his early morning ride, and clearly tired. He tossed his hat in her general direction and threw himself in a chair.

She rushed to fetch his hat before it acquired any lingering dust the maids might have missed when they had swept the room. “I believe a cousin of yours was here, looking for you, my lord,” she told him quickly as she straightened up.

Stratford removed his gloves one finger at a time and threw them at her, scowling. “Male or female?”

“Male.”