“I am afraid it is quite set in, Your Grace.” Stede shrugged, clearly feeling there was nothing left to be done. “May I advise we seal the west wing off in the meantime? If it’s in danger of collapsing, it could be a potential hazard if anyone were to stray that far.”
“Agreed. Would you ask the steward to handle the matter please?”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” Stede nodded his head. “Now, onto other matters…” He stared into the distance, toward the trees that lined the very edge of the estate. “What are you going to do about your…guest?”
Rafe felt a jolt in his chest as he stared at the impudent butler. The tone of his voice showed he had no qualms about thinking ill of Rafe for having a lone female visitor in the night. An odd sort of smile reached Rafe’s lips as he realized that Stede would have despaired about the number of women he had entertained over the last few years at his home in London.
“I did not invite her,” Rafe said, the words escaping his lips suddenly. Stede gave no sign of having heard him or caring about the words. “She has not been seen all day?”
“No.”
“Then I shall see to the matter. If you would excuse me.” Rafe retreated from the butler, as Stede bowed deeply, refusing to look him in the eye.
My butler is not a subtle man.
Rafe walked away and crossed the corridors. He headed to the dining room, where he had requested a plate of food be left out for Evelyn under a cloche, so she could eat when she did rise. Stepping into the dining room, he saw the cloche still by a chair, with the cutlery laid out formerly beside it. He crossed to the table and lifted the cloche, finding the breakfast untouched and growing cold.
“Perhaps she has already left,” Rafe mused aloud.
It was possible. After their shared night, she had been awkward, clearly regretful of what they had done. The mere thought that she could have risen in the middle of the night or the early hours of the morning, riding out into a blizzard just to escape him, made him pinch his nose and curse. She may have risked her life in this snow, just to be away from him.
“Ah, Evelyn,” he murmured, lowering his hand from his face. He had half a mind to send a man out into the snow to track the route she would have taken home, just to be sure she had met no injury. Yet such a thing would be risking the man’s life too. First, he had to be certain where Evelyn had gone.
Images entered his mind of what they had shared the night before. There was passion and pure attraction. When he had kissed her, she had kissed him back, and hadn’t once pulled back as they’d rolled on the floor together, giving in to that lust and need. It had been animalistic, and a pull toward a woman that he had not ever known before.
She intrigued him. She was not only beautiful, but her words had fascinated him, and her boldness to come all this way despite her quiet nature showed there was more to her than first met the eye, just as he had discovered that night at the ball.
Reaching into his pocket, he took out the slip of paper she had handed him. He turned it back and forth in his hands. He could open it and discover inside what man she was so desperate to track down. Then fulfill this one promise for her.
I know what is written there.
He didn’t need to answer his curiosity. He knew what she had written there regardless and seeing Mr. Windham’s name there on the paper would only make Rafe feel awful. Folding up the paper again, he stuffed it down into his pocket, as deeply as he possibly could.
“I do not want to think of her trying to seduce him to come back to her.”
CHAPTERELEVEN
“Tomorrow. First thing, I shall leave.” Evelyn turned the letter over repeatedly in her hand.
“What was that?” Petra asked, following behind her as they hurried through the corridor of the servants’ quarters.
“Nothing,” Evelyn lied.
She stayed by Petra’s side for the rest of the day, eating her food with the staff and also just loitering about in the kitchen, much to the amusement of most of the staff who had worked hard to make her feel welcome. The maids came up and asked her questions and the cook kept making her sweetmeats that he put in front of her whenever she finished with the last batch.
She decided that the Duke had a friendly cohort of servants, all except one. The butler, Stede, had clearly not been pleased to find she was still in the house when he came to the kitchen that evening to eat. He’d glared at her for some time and avoided looking or talking to her.
“That butler,” Evelyn murmured as Petra pointed the way to the staircase that led back to the main house. “He is not the most… hospitable of men, is he?”
“No, indeed,” Petra giggled conspiratorially. “He has high expectations. The housekeeper once said he had the manner of a duke himself!” She latched her hand over her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Ha! Fear not, no one shall hear it from me.” Evelyn laughed with her, deciding she rather liked the manner of the maid. “It will be our secret. Now, which way do I go?”
“Up this staircase here.” Petra opened a small door that led to a tiny spiral staircase. “It will lead you to the main floor and in front of you will be the master’s study. Are you sure you do not wish me to deliver it?”
“I can do it.” Evelyn nodded, quite determined. “You have done enough for me today as it is. Once I have delivered the letter, I shall retire for the night.”
“Very well. Goodnight, my Lady.”
