WINNIE
Mum: Winnie, Ken told me that Barry called the council. I’m so livid! I can’t believe I ever considered them my friends. Let’s see how High-And-Mighty Barry likes the doll heads I threw over the fence! When do you finish your job again? I think I might need a little help. You don’t have to come in the house. I know you have FEELINGS about it, but just to drive some things to the charity shop for me? I promise that I’ve done so much work since you last saw it. You’ll be so impressed.
“My lord, you have a visitor—” Reginald pauses as he realises Alaric isn’t in the ballroom with me.
“He found a box of coloured beads and got all inspired.” I shrug as I return to stacking boxes. It’s Monday evening, and thanks to Alaric’s tapestry-moving superpowers, the ballroom is almost ready for the loom-movers. I just have a few more boxes of tapestry tools to pack and then it’s done. “I let him go to his study for a bit. His fidgeting was disrupting theorganising process.”
Reginald frowns at the Sleep Token riff blasting from my portable speaker. “And the buzzsaw coming out of the speakers doesn’t?”
“Nope.” I grin. “By the way, thank you for saving those swords for me. I don’t think he’s ready to be rid of them.”
“I agree.” Reginald’s features relax, his eyes glazing over a little. “The swords are important to him. I’ve stacked them in one of the cells in the dungeon for when you need them. Gideon Blake is here to move the loom. I’ll let him up.”
I decide not to concern myself with the mention of a dungeon.What a man keeps beneath his castle is his own business.“Okay, do you want me to tell Alaric or?—”
“I prefer not to disturb my lord during his creative pursuits.” Reginald retreats. “He tends to be a little …”
“Stabby?”
“Precisely.”
I grin. “Send up Gideon and his crew. I can instruct them.”
A few minutes later, Reginald reappears, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture. “Gideon Blake, may I introduce Ms Winifred Preston, our professional organiser.”
I look up to see an immaculately dressed man with tousled golden hair and peacock blue eyes standing in the doorway. “Call me Winnie.” I stand, brushing dust from my hands before offering it to the newcomer.
Gideon regards my hand with wry amusement, his eyes sparkling with mischief. I don’t know what I expected from a loom mover, but it isn’t this.
“Gideon.” His eyes crinkle at the edges as he clasps my hand in both of his. His touch is cool, like Alaric, but heiswandering around the draughty castle in a silk shirt. “I heard you need your loom relocated, or is that code for ‘save me from Alaric the Cantankerous Count’?”
He says this in such a flirtatious way, with one eyebrow cocked, that I burst out laughing.
“No code. Lord Valerian needs the ballroom for his party.” I peer over his shoulder. “Where are your guys?”
“My guys? You think I have a retinue of manservants following me around, catering to my every whim?” He laughs again. “Unlike your Bad-Tempered Baron, I prefer to indulge my own whims. Much more fun that way.”
“I mean, where are the guys who are moving the loom?”
Gideon rolls up one sleeve, revealing elaborate tattoos of Renaissance artwork. He squeezes his bicep. “I’ve got two of these guys.”
I snort. “You can’t move this loom by yourself.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge? What do I win if I succeed? A kiss from fair Winifred?”
Whoisthis guy?
He talks about Alaric as if they’re friends … Does Alaric have friends? And he chosethis?
“No kisses.” I fold my arms. “And you’re not attempting to move that loom yourself. It’s got to be against health and safety regulations.”
“Fine, then I’m going to make Alaric do most of the work. It’s the least he can do since the poxy bastard made me help him set it up in the first place.”
Theyarefriends. Interesting.
“Alaric’s in his study, working on an art project,” I say. “I don’t want to disturb him, but maybe we can get Reginald to …”
Gideon isn’t listening. He circles the room, his eyes taking in the carved marble columns that I’ve started to clean off, the corner of the marble floor we uncovered beneath the pile of tapestries, and the neat piles of boxes I’ve stacked in the corner ready to be taken to the skip.
