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Not a maid.
But a lover.
Swallowing hard, she lifted a leg and dipped a toe into the water. She hissed a little as the heat lapped at her cold skin, then it acclimatized as she stepped fully into the water and sank down. It felt like heaven. She rested her head against the curve of the tub, which felt like it was made to fit her neck.
Letty had chosen wisely. Had she thought of this very moment when she selected this very bathtub?
She swallowed again, but this time it was because she was thinking of Letty. The woman who had put all of this together. The woman who had listened to her, both to what she said and what she didn’t, who had studied her on walks and on ice skates and in carriages, who had noticed her aversion to the cold and had given her the priceless gift of heat at her command.
She was a handsome woman. Anne had thought so from the start. Strong. Capable. Her eyes always had a light in them. Her mouth was made for those quick generous smiles that took her face from handsome to captivating. Her hands, whenever she removed her gloves for tea, were broad with neatly trimmed nails.
She wanted those hands on her body.
Anne’s eyes drifted closed and she hesitantly pushed through the oil-slicked water to slide over herself, cupping her breasts. Holding them as she thought Letty might hold them, gentle and sweet. She had seen the appreciation in Letty’s eyes. She knew she wasn’t imagining it.
What she imagined now was Letty’s hands gliding down her stomach, smoothing over her hips, tracing little circles over her thighs before gently nudging them apart. She shifted and raised one soapy knee to lean it against the lip of the bathtub. The movement exposed her breasts to the cool air, and her nipples puckered as they rose from the warmth of the water. She slid her hands over her breasts again, thumbing over her nipples, before slipping back down her body.
She ached to be touched by a hand not her own, to be loved by another woman so thoroughly that she could forget her name and rank and exist in the soft bliss of pleasure.
But if all she had was herself tonight, then by God it would have to be enough. Biting her lip, she stroked herself between her legs, the fragrant oils on her fingers easing the friction as she touched her clitoris. If only Letty were here. If only she had stayed to see what wonders her work had wrought on Anne. If only her hands were pressing against her opening, sliding a finger inside, then another, filling her deep with pleasure, again and again.
As she reached her climax, gasping, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her eyes were wild, her hair damp and curling in the steam, her lips reddened and fuller than usual. She looked like a woman on the cusp of an affair, she thought, delighted with the idea.
Letty’s warm eyes and generous mouth haunted her thoughts long after she had drained the water from the bathtub and put the creams and lotions back in their drawers.
Warmed and sated, Anne slid back into her bed and fell asleep.
* * *
The ache in Letty’s back told her that it was the end of a very long day, more so than the darkness outside, or the candles that continued to burn though they were but stubs. The wind howled and rattled the windowpanes. Letty wasn’t looking forward to going outside to return home in this weather. Pressing a hand to the small of her back to ease the pain, she peered out the window. Snow hadbegun to fall while she was working, drifting into piles against the house.
She had braved worse weather, but she was surprised at how fast the snow had accumulated. She would ask Mrs. MacInnes for use of the Hawthorne carriage tonight, so she could be in the hands of an expert driver.
A shadow appeared from the doorway, and Letty turned to see Anne. Her mouth fell open. “We had an agreement. You weren’t supposed to peek!”
“No one can tell a duchess what to do,” she said with a smile. “I couldn’t resist.”
There was something in her eyes that caused a frisson of awareness to prickle over her body. Her hand dropped from her back. “You couldn’t resist?”
“I had to see what you were so busy with,” she said. “You have been working long hours with the crew for days, and I was intrigued.”
Anne studied the walls, her hands clasped in front of her. She looked like she was in a museum, Letty thought with amusement, studying the wainscoting with the same gravity that she would give to priceless artwork.
“I like it,” she said.
“I knew you would,” Letty said, walking over to join her. “I drew it up for you.”
Anne darted a look at her. “Tell me about it.”
She pointed up to the ceiling. “The crown molding that used to be fixed to the top of the wall boasted an elaborate design of strawberry leaves, covered in gilt. I thought you might prefer to leave the ducal symbol behind, so I drew up a geometric oval and square dentil pattern, with nice clean lines, and arranged them to be cast in white plaster.”
“It isn’t fussy,” she said. “I appreciate that. Even though the room is smaller, it already feels less closed in than it had before.”
“Exactly. I wanted it to feel neat, linear, and very airy. Less furniture, less ornamentation. I added a new ceiling rose where the light fixture will go. That one I sculpted by hand, which is why Iwasn’t here much last week. It took forever to slice out the little details from the clay mold. It’s geometric, but it’s not entirely symmetrical. I wanted something organic, more natural, instead of perfectly arranged.”
Anne blinked. “Youmade it?”
Letty shrugged. “I wanted something that bore the mark of my own hand in here, not just things that others put together from my imagination.”
