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“How did—”
“Goodnight, Miss Winter.”
He closed the door to her face.
It became clear that Nate’s plans for her weren’t urgent, as she barely saw him except for when she brought him trays to his room, where he was entertaining a different person every night—and no, not sexually, as some were vampires who engaged him in animated conversation. She tried to eavesdrop, but one look at his gray eyes told her that would be a very bad idea. Then another look sent a message, and each night, it felt like she was reading the words he didn’t say.
He’s very dangerous. Leave.
They will catch you staring, Winter.
Have patience. Your time will come.
Not being around Nate meant Maddox was hovering over her like a gargoyle who barely talked, and she found that the only way to get away from him was to be with Hilda. So, she spent time in the kitchens as much as she could until she got used to their rhythm of preparing everything in the day so they could easily pop things in the oven or arrange the trays at night.
“I always assumed that you are awake at the same time they are.”
“Some houses follow that routine,” Hilda confirmed. “But Master Nathaniel thinks it will be more effective for us to work if we follow our natural sleeping hours and not theirs.”
“And his guests?”
“I don’t know their sleeping routine.” At Winter’s silence, Hilda glanced at her. “Oh. You are asking about their identity.”
“Yes. Who are they? Why does he meet them in his room instead of his office?”
“His room is his office. And it’s best if we don’t ask about his guests in public places.”
There was hardly anyone in the kitchen with them, but she supposed the woman was just being very cautious. Winter observed her kneading dough and followed the press and pull of her fingers, then assisted the woman in shaping them into buns. By the time they were done, night had fallen, the kitchen was empty, and the dough was emitting the most heavenly scents from the oven.
“I could work here forever if only for these delicious pastries you make.”
Hilda smiled at the compliment, then removed her apron and got to cleaning. They looked up at the sound of footsteps approaching fast. The figure zipped towards them, then stopped to catch a breath. She was female, plump, and very panicked.
“House Chatterley needs assistance. They have emergency guests, and our main cooks got food poisoning.”
Winter opened his mouth to ask questions, but Hilda was already nodding and moving.
“Tell me how many guests and their preferences while I start up the array.”
The woman recited the specifics, then ran off when Hilda waved her off and instructed her to come back in an hour.
“That easy?” Winter asked, incredulous.
“House Chatterley is a good friend of House Hendricks—or Master Nathaniel, to be more precise. If they have guests and they need food, we will provide that food as best as we can.”
“So that they will owe us a favor?”
Again, Hilda looked at her oddly but was too busy to argue. With a sigh, Winter jumped in action and lined trays up in the rows of ovens they had, then more trays where they could pile up the finished pastries. The woman returned with two men an hour later, and it became a flurry of loading trays in tall tray wagons and rushing towards House Chatterley’s domain.
“Are we also going?” Winter asked when Hilda began to help push the wagons. At the short nod, she followed suit and wheeled the last tray, grunting through the process before another pair of hands pushed from the other end.
“Help Hilda out,” he instructed.
She did so, and her and Hilda’s combined strength wheeled the second wagon faster. By the time they reached the party venue, her muscles were straining and she had to lean against the wall to catch her breath. But more men came and took over until the wagons disappeared with Maddox in tow. Hilda took her hand and immediately ushered her away.
“Are we not serving?”
“Not with these uniforms.”
