Page 5 of Desperately Seeking Seduction

And once they’d arrived, he had immediately run off to meet his brothers without so much as a backward glance. Winston couldn’t ever imagine feeling that same way about going home.

Home was a place where she didn’t belong.

Home was where she had been exposed as a fraud.

Dane Winston was as much a figment of her imagination as the name she’d been christened with by her parents. Once, Winston had lived as the sole male heir to a wealthy man’s fortune. None but her scheming mother and a few trusted servants had ever known the truth until the end.

The discovery of Winston’s true gender had come as the rudest of shocks to her up-till-then proud father.

Winston continued to dress the part of a man now, in order to make her way in the world.

Gaining a valet’s position with Lord Stratford was an unlooked-for boon Winston could not afford to waste. She didn’t know how to live as a woman, and the money from the generous wage she’d be paid would go a long way in her needy hands.

With a nod to the butler, she continued the unpacking. She knew enough of the workings of a great house to know to be silent and unobtrusive at all times. No one but the servants should have reason to look at her twice.

And even then, as valet, she held an important position in this household. Her past should not be questioned too closely by others of lesser rank. She would enjoy the luxury of having a chamber of her own, too, and being a step removed from almost everyone born male in service. Winston would never become friends with anyone here. Her service to Lord Stratford would be short. But to the butler, she would extend every consideration and convey the utmost respect.

“The family takes meals together for luncheon and again at eight o’clock in the evening for supper. By family, I refer to His Grace the Duke of Ravenswood, his brothers Lord Nash, Lord Jasper and your employer, Lord Stratford. It is important that Lord Stratford arrives promptly at mealtimes. He can be tardy when he becomes too absorbed in his art.”

“I will keep that in mind, and should he linger too long, remind him if need be.”

“See that you do. Meals are served in the servants’ hall at nine in the morning, two in the afternoon and ten in the evening unless there is a ball, when it will be served much later. If you miss a meal, you will have to await the next one. We will all be much too busy to worry about your whereabout in the coming days.”

“Yes, of course.” Winston had hardly had a decent meal at the inn where she’d last been employed, and could scarcely imagine going hungry here.

“Bathing is conducted twice a week by precedent, in the facilities the late duke built especially for the servants to use. You will be fifth in the line, and you must be quick about it. Again, should you miss your turn, you will have to wait till the next day. There is no bathing upstairs by any servant, in any bedchamber. The copper tubs are reserved for members of the family or guests. Infractions will lead to instant dismissal.”

“I understand,” she promised. Discovery was always her greatest fear, and she did not undress in front of others. She would have to become very clever regarding how she went about washing while she was here. She nodded to the butler. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“Yes, due to the house party guests bringing a greater number of servants than expected, you will have to sleep in Lord Stratford’s closet, upon the floor, for the first few nights.”

She nodded again but was disappointed. It meant she might be around her employer a great deal more than she’d planned to. But Winston had slept on the floor before, and in far worse places. The closet was as spacious as the last inn’s main guest chamber, and it did appear to have a lock on the inside of the door. It would only be for a few nights anyway. And when Cuthbert returned, whenever that might be, she would be on her way to a new place of employment.

Sleeping in a dressing closet did mean that she might never be alone at night around other men, besides Lord Stratford. That was to her advantage. The fewer people who looked at her jaw, the better. “Very good, sir.”

“I’m sure you’ll pick up enough of the ways of the palace to manage until Cuthbert arrives. If I could give you one piece of advice—do not get too comfortable.”

“I will do my best to remember that,” she promised.

The old fellow strode from the room and shut the door quietly behind him.

Winston exhaled and relaxed a little, glad to finally be alone for the first time in hours. She rubbed her face hard. She hadn’t dared let down her guard all day to smile. But she had never been truly comfortable anywhere she’d lived, so she could do this. Fool them all yet again. It was not as if she didn’t know how demanding wealthy gentlemen could be toward their servants. If she kept busy, did her work to the highest standard possible, she’d be well-rewarded when it came time to be on her merry way.

The world was rife for opportunities of employment for someone like her. Someone efficient but forgettable. And if she did not please her employer, there was always the next town, next county, and a new name with which to begin again. She’d kept moving since her ruse had been discovered, never stopping in one place too long for fear of what might be coming after her.

Winston was aware that her fears might have been somewhat paranoid, but she suspected her father might well remember he’d once had a son who had really been a daughter in disguise. She had played her part and deceived him, along with everyone else. Papa had been furious with her. He’d been made a fool.

Poor Papa.

It hadn’t been her decision to lie to her father about her real gender. The lie had been told since the moment of her birth by a woman craftier and more devious and unscrupulous than anyone she’d ever met since.

Mama.

Winston shrugged and turned back to the unfinished portrait and stared at it blindly until the unproductive guilt and anger passed, and then contemplated the painting’s subject. Winston knew more about the world, art, than she liked to let on. Lord Stratford definitely had talent. She wasn’t sure yet what else he was good for, though, except blather.

Winston’s father had given her every advantage as his sole heir, the best education, the best clothing, until she’d been found out and ended up with nothing but the clothes she’d stood up in. She shook her head and strode over to the window and took in the view once more, gnawing on her lower lip in regret over things she could not change.

Outside, she could see people—the Sweet family, she assumed—milling about on the neatly clipped lawn under the late spring sunshine. The well-dressed gentlemen, and their fashionably attired wives and daughters, drank from delicate crystal glasses and ate off fine white China plates. Musicians played a merry tune that carried even as far as this room. Those women in beautiful clothing and jewels were fluttering their fans, trying to attract the attention of men, and laughing merrily.