Chapter One
The problem of Harriet Selkirk had been bothering Paul DeVoreaux like a mildly irritating toothache. It wasn’t the woman herself, but her situation that had him frowning at times. Her history with her truly awful Aunt and Uncle was appalling; and her desire to vanish understandable.
Bumping into Letitia Ridlington, and becoming her “maid” had solved the problem temporarily, and also cemented a friendship between the two women. But now, with Letitia about to be married and move to FitzArden Hall with her new husband…well, Harriet knew it was time for her to make changes.
Paul agreed.
There was something about her he found appealing beyond the ordinary set of virtues. She was pretty, of course. Some might say beautiful. She was intelligent, well-read and not afraid to voice her opinions in conversation.
She could also blend into a crowd so well you wouldn’t notice her even if you were looking for her.
Which was all well and good, but no help in determining what she was to do with herself now that Letitia no longer needed a maid. Paul decided it was time to lend a hand…and perhaps solve a small problem of his own. They both needed to lay low, to hide away from the light of public scrutiny and let London Society roll on without them.
Hence their ride through the bitter cold of a late afternoon in December. They’d hoped to make an earlier start, but as Paul well knew, women took forever to say goodbye, even if it was just for a short walk.
But finally they had arrived…and there it was. As she had said, a fairy-tale concoction of a hunting box, designed with whimsy and charm. He seriously doubted that the Right Honorable Jonathan Inchworthy had ever allowed a hound near the place. He didn’t personally know the man, but his name was familiar. The only hunting he was known for was that of the newest wealthy debutante, or the latest in notorious mistresses.
But Paul wasn’t about to mention that to Harriet. There were a few other things he chose to keep to himself as well. For now, anyway. Things concerning a future which was uncertain, to say the lease.
They arrived at the front door, and she looked at him. “Will your key allow us to enter here? Or is there a servant’s door at the back?”
Paul blinked. “Damn. I forgot we’re supposed to be below stairs.” He grinned. “However, since it’s dark as the night, I doubt anyone will fuss unduly if we use the front door. And I’m pretty sure this is the right key.
Suiting words to action, they dismounted, unfastened their bags and let themselves into the darkened house, since Paul’s assumption had been correct. He did have the front door key.
Harriet peered into the gloom. “Might there be lamps, do you think?”
There was a bump and an oath. “I think I found a big one.” Paul lit a lucifer and the glow revealed a large statue, shaped like a rather slender doe on her hind legs. A lamp dangled from her mouth, but it was devoid of candles.
“Good grief.” Harriet blinked. “That’s rather…er…”
“Outlandish? Garish? Other words ending in -ish?”
“Well, it’s not my taste, but I’m sure someone loved it. They must have.” She touched it with the tips of her fingers. “A good dusting and that bronze will glow.”
“Add it to the list,” muttered Paul, looking around at the front hall.
From the little he could see, there was enough dust and dirt to keep Harriet busy for a month, but looming shapes told him that at least some of the furniture had been covered when the last tenants departed.
“Let’s see if we can locate a usable room,” he suggested. “I don’t think we should even try going upstairs right now. It’s too dark and if there’s a problem with the stairs…”
Harriet’s gulp was audible in the silence. “You have a good point.” She sighed. “We should see if we can start below stairs. Where would there be a parlor?”
“I can’t say for sure, but I can say that I see a candle here. On this little side table.” Triumphantly, Paul lit another lucifer and the bright flare of illumination as the wick caught brought a smile to his lips. “Now. About that parlor…”
*~~*~~*
Harriet caught a glimpse of his face in the candlelight, all honed cheekbones and smiling lips. He exemplified the Byronic hero so many of his contemporaries emulated, but few achieved.
She wondered how he’d remained unwed, then recalled the terrible scandal that had driven him from his family and his country for so many years. Her heart ached for him; she was only too aware of what loneliness could be, and he must have experienced it in great measure.
“This looks promising…” He moved to a door and pushed it open. “Aha. Once again the amazing DeVoreaux instinct triumphs.”
It had indeed. A large staircase led downward and within moments they were in the servants’ area below stairs. A good sized kitchen confronted them and a corridor leading off to one side promised more rooms. He opened the first door, and grinned, walking inside. “Am I brilliant?”
Whisking off covers, Paul traversed the room, wielding the sheets like a magician revealing a well-upholstered rabbit.
“Oh, this is perfect.” Harriet smiled as two large sofas appeared. “Do you think we dare risk a fire?”
