Page 32 of Desperately Seeking Seduction

Winston was tense as she entered Ravenswood Palace. Stratford was to blame, of course, not that she regretted the morning outing or falling victim to her own newly awakened curiosity about intimacy between men and women.

Lovemaking was better than she had assumed. So was kissing Lord Stratford. He’d made her surrender less awkward than she feared it might be. It was only after that doubts had surfaced.

The rider racing away was her current concern. She had seen no lady on her long walk back to the palace.

The promise that Lord Stratford would take care of the rider sat oddly on her shoulders. She was not used to leaving others to clean up her messes. The right course of action was to leave before she was identified. Before someone she’d come to care for ended up with their reputation in ruins or married to her instead.

She could always find another position. But husbands and wives were bound together for life. She had known that every acquaintance or friendship she struck up would be as temporary as her time with Lord Stratford surely must be now.

Winston removed her hat as she strode boldly into the Palace and glanced into the cavernous kitchen in the hope of getting a drink. Everyone seemed too busy to notice her at first, scrubbing pots and putting things away.

“You, there. New man,” a woman called out.

Winston spun about, looking for the speaker. “Yes?”

The cook, strands of sweaty hair stuck to her brow, emerged from a storeroom, and scowled at Winston. “I know what you’re about. Special treatment is for the duke alone.”

Winston frowned at the woman and dug a finger into her cravat in a vain attempt to cool herself down. The long walk and accompanying panic had heated her but the kitchen was stifling, too. She set her fingers lightly to the nearest tabletop to steady herself. “Special treatment?”

“Meals are served at nine o’clock, two o’clock and ten o’clock in the evening.”

“Yes, I know,” Winston sighed, leaning a little harder on the table. “Seymour explained that. I will eat later with everyone here.”

The cook’s scowl darkened, and she slammed what she was holding onto the table and punched her hands to her hips. “Was the tray Lord Stratford supposedly demanded this morning not enough?”

“What tray? What demand?” Winston shook her head, utterly confused. Perhaps it was the heat but most likely her many exertions that morning that had fatigued her. She needed desperately to sit down a moment and gather her strength. “I’ve only just returned from a distant hillock. Lord Stratford had the urge to see the sunrise and paint it, and is still there. We left while the palace was still in darkness without eating or requesting any tray. What might be the time, if you don’t mind telling me, so I won’t miss my luncheon?”

If she did, she might just faint clean away.

The cook’s lips pursed tight; her eyes narrowed.

“I would give anything for a sip of water,” she said, looking at the cook hopefully, but the woman just stared. “If you will excuse me, I’m truly parched,” she explained, wiping her brow before returning the hat to head and turning unsteadily for the nearest exit. There would be water in Lord Stratford’s chambers, but she would have to break the rules to drink it. Currently, she did not care.

“Sit,” Cook said, and when Winston did not move fast enough, she made it an order. “I said sit while I get you something.” She turned and addressed her helpers. “Everyone, there will be no more trays sent upstairs to Lord Stratford’s chambers, no matter who says he wants one. Is that clear?”

Winston set her hat next to her on the bench and shook her head. “I never asked for a tray for him. Not once. He eats well with his brothers, he tells me.”

“Yes, that is what I thought too,” Cook murmured, looking very unhappy. “But someone has been requesting them for Lord Stratford and eating the contents of those trays. I assumed it was you but you look about ready to faint from hunger. I cannot abide dishonesty in our ranks.”

The cook disappeared into the larder.

Winston put her elbows on the battered wood table and rested there, wondering about the trays that had never come to her attention in Lord Stratford’s room. Was someone stealing food in her name? That’s a fine way to get handed your marching orders in such a strict household. She wondered who would be so brazen and then dismissed the matter. She was much too tired and hungry to care.

When Cook emerged, she plonked down a jug of water and a glass, which Winston snatched up. She drank two glasses of water by the time the cook returned with cheese, a half loaf of bread and a leg of ham covered in cloth. She set everything on the table in front of Winston and produced a long sharp knife from under her apron to carve off two thick slices of each. “I’ll not be made a fool of in my own kitchen.”

“I don’t understand. What’s been going on?”

The cook laid a hand on Winston’s shoulder. “Never you mind, lovey. I’ll deal with the troublemaker in our midst, never fear. Now go on. Eat. I suspect you’ve not had a proper meal since you got here.”

Winston had not, but did not complain. She was ravenous, no doubt from her recent exertions that morning. Keeping up with Lord Stratford while burdened had been a strain. Her legs had not felt at all steady after she’d made love to him, either. She dipped her chin to hide a blush at her behavior and tucked into the veritable feast before her, gulping down the milk the cook also set down in front of her as well.

She wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her coat. “Thank you, madam.”

“The name’s Mrs. Derry. Mr. Seymour was no doubt too busy to arrange a proper introduction when you first arrived.”

“I’m sure he never meant to slight you,” Winston promised, hoping that was true.

“With all the shenanigans going on around here, the dozens of visiting servants getting in the way, contradicting everything, I’m sure he didn’t mean to slight you, either. But you’re more important than all the new faces to me. You belong to the palace now. I’ve always had a soft spot for Lord Stratford’s valets. You’ve got your work cut out for you keeping him on time,” she said, blushing a little. “How he keeps any manservants, I’ll never know.”