Page 45 of Desperately Seeking Seduction

Which begged the question: why?

Why was she here now? Was it only chance that had brought them together?

And what would Aston do when he saw Win again, if she was his long-lost daughter?

He gulped at the thought of that scandal engulfing them all.

Was her father’s anger the reason Winston had said she could never go home? Was she afraid of the man she resembled more than a little, now that Stratford considered their features? The similarity was definitely there. But to be sure, he’d need to see them together in the same room, at the same time.

He scolded himself roundly. He should have seen it before. He studied people for fun and had missed all the signs of a familiar face and old friend in hers. The servant he’d plucked from a shabby inn and promoted to be his valet on a whim had been no whim at all. No wonder he’d agreed so readily to taking Win on. He’d felt an instant connection.

But Win? She should have run the other way if she’d recognized him. Win likely had no idea who he’d been to her, or she would never have wanted to be anywhere near him again. He’d been really annoying as a child. But he couldn’t help but smile now.

He’d found his friend of old at that inn, and his soul had known not to let him, or rather her, slip through his fingers a second time.

CHAPTER 14

Fate and Stratford conspired to prevent Winston from reaching an exit to Ravenswood until it was much too late to leave unnoticed. She had wanted to be on her way hours ago, but unfortunately had fallen back asleep after he had gone shooting. She had woken an hour later than she ought and now was in something of a rush. “You’re late,” she warned herself, even as she threw herself out of his bed.

There really had been no opportunity for any goodbye.

The worry was whether her father was awake already, and what he might do when and if he ever saw her face again.

Her joy in the night and the morning she’d shared with Stratford, as he’d whispered scandalous things about what they were doing to each other as they made love, was fading now that he was gone. But fade it must, and she was determined—she could not stay a moment longer and let her father catch sight of her.

Winston remade the bed neatly, and then mussed it up as if only one person had spent the night alone in it. All evidence of their passion, of her gender, had to be hidden from the gossiping maids who would come to the room soon.

Once satisfied all was as it should be in the bedchamber, Winston headed into the dressing closet again to collect her possessions for her journey.

When she emerged from the room, she felt a twinge of guilt for abandoning her post. But she had no time for foolish sentimentality. Her father should be rising anytime soon.

She hurried down the servant stair, satchel slung over one shoulder. Thankfully, the servants who slept up in the attics seemed not to be moving about yet. That wasn’t to say there couldn’t be someone in the kitchen, stoking a fire to boil water for tea.

She cautiously set one foot in the servants’ hall and looked around quickly to determine if anyone might already be awake. The halls were still dark, but it would not be long before the entire house woke and started the endless task of providing for a house full of hungry guests.

Relieved not to see anyone, she was about to turn away when a woman cried out in pain. Startled, she narrowed her eyes on the larder, where she noted the door was ajar. It should have been locked if Cook wasn’t around, which meant Cook was already awake, and she’d hurt herself.

Winston set her satchel down on a chair out of the way and hurried toward that open doorway. But a man’s figure stood just inside the door, with his back to her.

“That wasn’t nice,” he complained

Winston recognized the voice. Philips—the fellow who had most likely locked her out of the manor on her first night here. He was currently blocking the doorway and, if she was not mistaken, he was not alone in there.

She moved closer and caught a glimpse of the cook, with cheeks flushed pink with anger. Mrs. Derry had pressed herself against the far wall as Philips crowded her.

Winston moved to one side of the door to listen to the exchange inside before deciding if she would be interrupting an assignation or an imposition. Affairs between servants were generally frowned upon.

“Why so cold, pet?”

“You tricked me, you blackguard,” Mrs. Derry accused.

“You wanted it, too,” Philips promised in a tone that turned Winston’s stomach. “There’s no reason for false modesty now.”

“Get out before the butler arrives,” she hissed.

“Imagine the old fool’s shock seeing you like this with me. He thinks you a chaste and proper matron. When he finds out you’ve been sneaking into the larder to meet me, he will be so disappointed in you.”

“You seduced me. You’ve as much to lose as I do.”