Page 37 of Desperately Seeking Seduction

Crawford was now family, and Stratford trusted him with his life, and his cousin’s heart. But the state of the duchy was not Stratford’s secret to share. He might need to speak to the new duke and warn him that Amity was asking questions. If the Crawfords could be brought into the secret and safely keep their mouths shut, they would have another pair of allies they could turn to for advice and occasional assistance in deflecting the curiosity of others. Certainly, both were determined to thwart Cousin George at every turn.

He nodded. “Crawford is a good man.”

“The very best.” Amity sighed. The sound of a woman smitten with her love and her marriage. It was what he’d hoped for her but hadn’t counted on. To be far away from Cousin George and his unkind influence was another desire, too.

“Tell me, how goes the quest to purchase Uncle Henry’s estate?”

“Crawford told you about that already?”

“No. Uncle Henry did. He asked my opinion yesterday. Wondered if Algernon might disapprove of the sale.”

“And?”

“I’m sure my brother would rather Crawford buy it than George simply move in. Your brother is known to covet the place.”

“For its proximity to Ravenswood and the duke’s ear. You must know he has ambitions far beyond what he deserves.”

“What he gets will always be far less than he expects,” Stratford replied gleefully. There simply was no money for handouts to anyone now, deserving or otherwise.

“He’ll cause trouble,” Amity warned.

“Hasn’t he always tried?”

“I would wager he’s not so easily dissuaded now. Did you see how excited he was by Aston’s arrival? Something is going on there.”

“He’s simply grown closer to Edwin,” he agreed. “It doesn’t matter. Our father found George amusing once. Algernon never will.” He patted her hand as he spotted Crawford striding across the lawn to meet them. “Do not worry yourself over nothing, cousin, for here is your husband bounding our way to sweep you off your feet again.”

She turned immediately to view her husband. They rushed together and, true to Stratford’s prediction, Crawford lifted his bride off the ground and spun her until she giggled and begged to be put down again. The sound reminded him of Winston last night and this morning. Her musical laugh was a memory he already treasured.

He looked up at the facade of Ravenswood Palace and saw her standing at the window of his bedchamber. He almost raised his hand to signal to her but then he saw Mr. Aston, his son, and Cousin George were outside and headed toward the stables, and thought better of it. Winston must have noticed them too, because she drew back, making herself almost undetectable.

She must be so worried she’d be identified as his lover of the morning.

Stratford excused himself and conjured a feeble excuse to return to his room and tell her it was all right now.

CHAPTER 12

Winston moved swiftly down the hall, one eye open for any lurkers until she reached a door she shouldn’t want to open as much as she currently did. She pressed her ear to the door to listen for any movement inside and, upon hearing nothing, silently let herself inside.

The first thing that assailed her was the scent she had nearly forgotten but had once meant so much to her. Pipe smoke mixed with strong sandalwood cologne.

The memories of her lost childhood hit her like a blow, painful and unwanted, and she cursed under her breath. Now was not the time to become foolishly sentimental.

Winston hurried to the windows facing the stables and cautiously peered out. She saw the man who had sired her, in conversation with the stable master, along with a few other gentlemen. His son was one, and a man dressed all in black—George Sweet, she assumed—as they looked over the horses.

Believing that her father might be there a good while, she turned to view the guest chamber and studied her surroundings.

Aston appeared to travel as lightly as he always had. The well-worn traveling cases were stacked neatly at the foot of the bed. His hairbrush and shaving implements were placed on the dresser near a full-length mirror.

As she turned around, she caught sight of a thin book lying on a table beside the only comfortable chair in the room. It was obviously well-handled. The cover worn and soiled, the edges of the paper yellowed and stained. She considered taking a peek at what might have been inside but then decided against it. She wasn’t part of his world anymore. She did not have to be better educated than her father, as he had once insisted she must be, to bring the family the distinction he craved and to make him proud. Aston had a real son to fulfill that longing of his now.

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. There was no point regretting her failures. She could not change her gender to please him or anyone.

Aware time was passing, she started for the door but stopped beside the bed when she saw a small, stoppered vial. It was the kind given out by apothecaries for a variety of ailments. She picked up the bottle to study the contents and then held it up to the light. It contained a fine white powder but there was no label to explain what it was meant to cure.

Winston put the bottle back down quickly, making sure she left it exactly as she had found it. But she frowned a moment. Was her father ill? She’d never known him to be in anything but in the best of health. But he was getting older, and she didn’t know what had happened in his life since she’d last seen him.

Saddened by that, she headed for the door and an escape, slipping into the empty hall and hurrying back the way she’d come without trying to show how much she wished to run. As she reached Lord Stratford’s chamber door and turned the handle, she heard the thump of heavy steps behind her and glanced over her shoulder.