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“Tch, you make him sound so dour, Frannie. He really is an excellent young man. Talented, authoritative, knows how to keep the affairs of the family in order at home. We’re both rather proud of him.”
“Of course, I just meant that he can come off as a little strict for some. But I can tell that you’ve got tenacity, dearie, I’m sure you’ll get along with him swimmingly! Especially if he’s speaking with you in private on your first day—he must see something special in you.”
I guess you can call it that, I think as we set about preparing dinner. Tonight’s menu includes filet mignon and a side of roasted asparagus. I don’t even recognize some of the spices the maids are telling me to put into the meat, but I obey, feeling myself exceedingly conscientious of what I put into my labor. I know exactly why, too—it’s burning between my legs even as I bustle about, the promise he made to me making my heart pound.
“Are you okay, dearie?” Beth asks, noticing my blush as I remember the feel of his cock. “You look a bit flustered.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, just been quite a day!” I laugh off with a nervous smile, and she beams back sweetly. But while I’ve got the chance, I decide to take advantage of what information I can squeeze out of my new coworkers. “So I have to admit, I don’t know much about the Delaneys, but they seem to be famous around Surrey.”
“Ooooh, you don’t know the half of it!” Frannie says, tending to the asparagus while Beth climbs up a tall shelf to retrieve an opened bottle of red wine with a date on it so old I feel my heart skip a beat. “He’s quite the philanthropist. Pours money into the community, holds charity balls every weekend it feels like, that sort of thing.”
“Oh yes,” Beth chimes in, “bit of an old-fashioned type, Lord Alistair. Always had a taste for the Victorian life, he has, compared to his globe-trotting brothers,” she adds with a roll of her eyes.
I nod, biting my lip. That was putting it lightly. The man has a library like something out of a fairy tale, but he looks more like a villain than a Prince Charming. “So, does he take his dinner in his quarters? Or will he be entertaining guests tonight?” I figure I’d ask, since it’s Friday, but the maids exchange looks with one another before turning to me.
“Actually, dearie,” Beth says slowly, looking a little uncertain, “he instructed us to have you serve him in the dining hall—and that you’d be joining him tonight.” She smiles, resuming her usual upbeat optimism. “That never happens! He must really see some potential in you, Maisie.”
I feel myself blush, and I bite my lip, glancing down at my outfit again. So he’s planning to have his new plaything dine with him. The thought sends a shiver through me, but not an unwelcome one. I feel a bit embarrassed that I’m going to be eating separately from the other staff, but well, it’s hard to turn down filet mignon.
“Well I suppose that explains why I’m cooking double portions!” I say lightheartedly, and the other maids laugh, and the air is clear again as we bustle about.
I find myself rather liking Beth and Frannie. They add a bit of much-needed life to the dreary manor. At least, life outside the flare of passion I have between my legs for Master.
With a covered plate of our dinners on a literal silver platter in hand, I make my way through the door to the dining hall. Inside, my jaw drops once more.
Red walls and curtains pop out against the gold ceiling and moulding of the long, spacious room, and busts of various unfamiliar faces stand between huge windows that stretch from floor to ceiling. There’s a fresco on the ceiling, depicting nymphs bathing in a refined yet borderline lewd manner.
There’s a long, ebony table in the center of the room with silver candelabras every few feet, luxurious dining chairs lining the sides. Every one of them is empty except one.
Lord Alastair sits at the head of the table, his cool eyes watching me like a lion watches a gazelle wander into his territory. It’s careful, but there’s a certain hunger to it I can’t ignore.
“Timely as ever, Maisie,” he remarks bemusedly, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs, gripping the arms of his chair as he gets comfortable.
I make my way towards him, and I set the platter before him, lifting the cover and smelling the sumptuous meal I prepared for him. For us. The wine bottle is on the platter as well, and in an automatic motion, I uncork the bottle and pour his glass, filling it until he puts up a hand calmly for me to stop. It’s quite full by that time. I wonder what kind of a drinker he is.
I move to start to pour my own, but he puts up a hand again, and I give him a perplexed look. “None for you,” he says calmly. I feel a little ashamed for presuming I’d be drinking the same wine as him, but I nod, blushing, and I stopper the bottle and set it aside before sitting down and watching him patiently.
“Well, don’t wait for me,” he says, an uncharacteristically casual smile on his features. “Eat up.”
My heart is pounding so hard I’m worried he can hear it, and I think he can, but he’s scarcely sliced his first piece of meat off before he breaks the silence.
“You’re surprised that I know so much about you,” he states in simple fact, and I look up at him, expecting the statement to be going somewhere. I can’t say he?
?s wrong. “I take care to study the people I invite into my domain, Maisie. You were particularly intriguing, but people are never who they are on paper. I will hear it from your own lips. Tell me of Conwy.”
He speaks with such presumptive authority that I’m cowed a moment. His commands are not requests. I curse myself as I feel my heart flutter at how easily he sways my will, bending me to his.
“Conwy is...well, I could say it’s idyllic, but I suppose that’s nothing compared to your estate. Master,” I add after a beat that he doesn’t miss. His attention is a steel trap, I swear. “But for Wales, it’s a beautiful countryside town. Towering old castle spires, rolling hills and mountains in the distance, beautiful view of the Irish Sea...and not much else,” I finish with a sardonic smile, to which he raises an eyebrow, chewing his meat as he listens. “Not the most opportunity back home.”
Finally, he smiles, then gives a bit of a laugh, and I feel terribly embarrassed. Have I already made myself look like a fool in front of this highborn English lord?
“You do this dour old place too much grace, Maisie,” he says, looking out the window into the night, the town of Rookswood glittering in the distance. “This manor is a glum corner of the country compared to the Welsh coast. I’ve been. The views of the sea are so breathtaking, you could lose yourself in them. Let yourself get swept up by the salty waves,” he muses, taking a drink of his wine before setting his glass down and looking at me.
“I suppose the grass is always greener somewhere else, Master,” I say with a faint smile, and his eyes warm at the sight of it. That makes me feel warm between my legs. Something about this icy man’s approval does unexpected things to me.
“Indeed. But your accent sounds unusual for Conwy. There’s a tinge to it, but the American is there. You’ve played it up, though—when did you leave your home in America?”
I blush, not realizing how much he knows about me. “My mother is American. We moved here when I was ten, so I don’t remember an awful lot about it, I’m afraid.”
