An Affair Downstairs

by Sherri Browning

  “A shame about the Thornes,” Lady Holcomb said. “I always enjoy their company.”

  “Jilting us for London.” Sophia shuddered at mention of London. She hated the place. “I hope it’s productive for them.”

  “I do look forward to her next book.” Lady Holcomb reached for her wineglass.

  “She couldn’t put the last one down,” Lord Holcomb said. “I begged her, ‘Darling, come to bed.’ She would always answer, ‘But one last page.’”

  Alice looked across the table to find Lord Ralston’s gaze trained on her.

  “It was quite a romantic story.” Lady Holcomb blushed. “I do like a good romance. Speaking of romance, my nephew has been spending quite a lot of time at the Furbish estate. Is it their horses you find so fascinating, Harry, or is it the company?”

  Lady Matilda Furbish, age eighteen, was pretty enough, Alice supposed, though she had never seemed very bright when Alice had spoken with her. Perhaps Ralston was hoping to make Alice miss him after all. She arched a brow in his direction.

  “The horses, of course, Aunt. As you know, I’m making a fair number of changes at Kenterly. I would like to add to the stables. Lord Furbish has some fine stallions, but I was looking for a gentle mare suitable for a lady to ride.”

  “Ridiculous,” Alice declared. “Do you imagine that a lady can’t manage a fiery stallion?”

  “I doubt I could if I were expected to ride sidesaddle. I don’t fault the women riding, but the style in which they are forced to ride.”

  She nodded. “You make a good point. It does make riding a challenge.”

  “Why, Alice, I’m astonished.” Lord Averford paused, fork in air, before diving into his trout. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you concede an argument so easily. Not even a counterpoint for Lord Ralston here?”

  Sophia coughed into her napkin. Alice suspected she might have kicked her husband under the table. “Alice is a very agreeable girl. She has such a good nature.”

  “This Alice?” Lord Averford went on. “Are you mad? Alice is—” Ah, that must have been the kick. Averford recoiled. “Very sweet. Of course. Yes. I must have been thinking of someone else.”

  “The Furbish girl, Lady Matilda, she is the best-natured young woman I’ve had the pleasure to meet. Such manners. They came to dinner twice this past week, and each time I found her more agreeable than the last. I daresay you noticed her, too, Harry?” For the second time, Lady Holcomb seemed to go out of her way to push Matilda Furbish as a match for Lord Ralston. Alice began to wonder what Lady Holcomb had against her.

  “She’s a lovely girl,” Ralston acknowledged, his gaze trained on Alice. “But she’s so young yet. I believe she’s lacking the kind of irrepressible spirit and confidence that a woman gains with age and experience.”

  “Lady Alice,” Averford observed, “I believe Ralston has just called you old.”

  Again, Lord Averford jumped a little in his seat. Sophia narrowed her eyes in her husband’s direction. Alice wondered if her brother-in-law might soon be in the market for another bracelet. “I’m beginning to miss the Thornes myself,” he said. “I can usually count on my brother to say the wrong thing before I do.”

  Ralston laughed along with Lord Averford, and Lord Holcomb joined in. The women turned their attention to the arrival of the next course.

  After the very quiet second half of the dinner, the ladies followed Sophia’s lead and passed through to the drawing room. Before the men could join them, Mr. Winthrop came into the room. His hair was damp from being out of doors, even though he’d probably worn a hat, and he still wore his gloves and overcoat. Heat rushed to her core when Winthrop fixed an intimate stare on her, but abruptly he turned to face her sister instead.

  “Lady Averford, a word please.” Together, they went to the far side of the room. He held the window curtain open and gestured outside. Sophia nodded along. Then he dropped the curtain and walked away, increasing Alice’s disappointment. She’d hoped he would join them for cordials.

  The men came in the room and Lady Averford addressed them all.

  “Our agent just came in to inform me that the snow promises to be deep. It has only been falling for a little while, but it’s accumulating quickly. The wind is beginning to pick up. You’re all welcome to stay the night. If you choose to turn the invitation down, I must insist you leave before it gets much later and the roads become impassable.”

  “We should stay,” Ralston said. “Let’s stay. We’ll have a jolly good time snowed in. How cozy.” He looked at Alice and winked.

  “Dear, no.” Lady Holcomb protested immediately. “My little Dinkums is home. He gets so afraid during storms. I can’t bear to leave him. If it’s safe to go now, let’s go. Before it’s too late.”

  “Darling, of course,” Lord Holcomb agreed. “She dotes on that little dog so.”

  “I’ll have the driver bring your car around.” Sophia smiled.

  “Your maid is with Dinkums.” Ralston waved his hand dismissively, clearly irritated with the news. “He’ll hardly know you’re gone.”

  “Oh, my silly nephew.” Lady Holcomb placed a hand on Ralston’s cheek. “Nothing soothes quite like a mother’s love. No, we must go. I’m only glad your man came in to warn us before it was too late. Good night, Lady Averford. And thank you.”

  Ralston held back while the others walked to the door. He cradled Alice’s elbow in his palm. “I mean to see you again soon. I’ve missed you too much these past few days.”

  “I’m certain that Lady Matilda helped to lessen your pain.”

  “She’s nothing to you. You must know how I feel. Snow won’t keep me away. Good night, my sweet dove.”

  He leaned in, kissed her forehead, and walked away quickly as if by hesitating another moment, he would be lost. Alice remained in the drawing room. The others could see him off. When she turned, she saw Winthrop standing in the opposite doorway across the room. But before she could call out to him, he disappeared.

  Eleven

  For two days, the snow came down hard and fast, and Logan had barely a moment to stand still and breathe. Keeping the walks and roadways clear was a monumental job, and he was the one maintaining the schedule around the clock. Many times, sensing the crew was tiring, he went out with a shovel and worked alongside them.

  After midnight, he rode over to Tilly Meadow to make sure they were all well on the farm. They proved to be a merry lot, well-stocked and ready to manage with the storm brewing. The animals were all fed and in their stalls, and the boys were out shoveling when he’d arrived, a task they’d evidently kept up through the night. He had to leave his horse in Brandon Cooper’s care and take one of theirs back to Thornbrook Park, fearing the labored horse wouldn’t survive both ways through the increasingly deep and drifting snow.

  Once back in the safety of the house, he didn’t dare return to his cottage before thawing some before the fire.

  “You look like a snowman,” Alice said, appearing in the room as if she could sense him there. “I’m glad you’re safe. I was worried.”

  “What are you doing out of bed, Lady Alice? It’s two in the morning.” She wore only a nightgown, albeit what looked to be a thick flannel one, under her heavy cotton wrapper.

  “I can’t sleep with the snow. It stirs a liveliness inside me. I wish I could go out in it. So beautiful.”

  “Not tonight. The wind is brutal.” He could still feel the ice clinging to his hair. “It’s not fit for man nor beast.”

  “And yet you went riding all the way out to the farm.”

  “It’s my duty to check on the tenants.”

  “It’s not your duty to get killed in the process. You might have been stuck out there.”

  “Believe me, I know the dangers.” He shook, unsure if it was the chill from outside or the fact that she kept stepping closer.

  “Look at you. You’re soaked.” She thought to ring for a footman, then reconsidered with the lateness of the hour and the idea that she could ke
ep Winthrop all to herself. “Tell me you wore gloves.”

  “Of course.” He rubbed his hands near the fire. “I’m not daft.”

  She nodded. “Very well. Remove your clothes.”

  “Somehow, I always knew you would get around to saying that, but I didn’t imagine it would be quite like this,” he joked inappropriately, the cold making him careless.

  She fetched a blanket, a decorative knitted thing from the back of a couch. “I won’t look. I’ll turn around. Right now, I’m only interested in keeping you warm. By no means do I intend to let you return to your cottage alone.”

  “Yes, my lady,” he said obediently from between chattering teeth. How was it possible that he felt even colder? With Alice standing so close, even barking orders, one would think he would have instantly warmed. Even love had its limits, he supposed.

  Love? Did he love her? What madness. He must have frozen his brain.

  Only because the hour was late and he was so wet and cold, he stepped into the corner, stripped off his wet things, and wrapped up in the ridiculous excuse for a blanket. Once he’d wrapped in it, he realized the thing was full of holes, deliberate gaps in the lacy pattern, but holes nonetheless. Her gaze was drawn to his cock, and he realized that part of him was getting warm. Very warm. He hunched over in an attempt to protect her from the unseemly sight. “You said you wouldn’t look.”

  “When you were undressing. By now, I assumed you were properly covered.” She flashed a shy grin, a blush heating her cheeks. “I think I’m in danger of becoming unraveled.”

  He curled into a chair, the blanket bunched up around him. “You can leave me now, Alice. I’ll find my own way back once I’m warm enough.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. There are a number of guest rooms at the ready, and Captain Thorne has left some clothes behind that I’m sure will fit you well enough. I must insist that you stay. Don’t force me to alert the others.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You must promise me you’ll stay the night here. There’s nothing more to be done until morning. You’re no good to anyone if you don’t get some sleep. At last. I believe you haven’t had a wink since the snow started.”

  “Are you keeping track of me, Alice?”

  “I confess that I do pay attention to your comings and goings, yes. I like to think that you’re all too aware of me, too. Admit it, Logan. You can’t help yourself when it comes to me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, managing to be serious at last. “I can. I will. It’s not always easy, I’ll grant you, but I am a man of honor, reputation be damned, and I will not tarnish you. I will not be the one to ruin your hopes with my own carelessness.”

  “Ruin my hopes? The only thing I hope for is to be free. Always. The only way you could ruin my hopes is to imprison me.”

  “Love can be a prison, Alice. I know it more than most. One day, perhaps, you’ll understand. Now go to bed. I can see myself upstairs. I promise you that I will. Think of the consequences if anyone else were to see us like this…”

  “You’re right, of course. Now that I know you’re safe, and you’ve given me your word, I will go. But only because I know you must be exhausted, and I really do want you to get some sleep. Good night, Logan.”

  “Good night, Alice. Sweet dreams.”

  ***

  Her dreams had been sweet. She recalled every inch of his body that she could see and committed them all to memory. The broad chest, the rippled abdomen, his arms corded with thick muscles still throbbing from overexertion. And lower, the sight of him growing erect beneath the blanket’s loose-woven strands. She dreamed of him all night and into the next day. She fantasized about him making love to her at last.

  The fantasy might be all she would ever have, a harsh fact she faced in her waking hours. Despite whatever had happened in his past, he was too principled, too good, to do anything she might regret. Her only hope lay in convincing him that she would never, ever regret giving her innocence to him. Who dared to tell her otherwise?

  In her heart, she knew he would be gone before she woke up. There would be no bumping into him at breakfast, no chance meeting in the hall. The snow had stopped. The sun was up. Thornbrook Park buzzed with activity, the workers intent on restoring the grand house to business as usual. Winthrop had probably already gone to the farm again and back. She pictured him out in the snow, ordering men here and there, jumping in and doing some of the harder jobs himself. It’s the kind of man he was, and she…admired him. She admired him greatly. Of course she did. They were friends.

  Once dressed, she went to see what was happening in the rest of the house. If she were at the Dower House, she would be enjoying a quiet breakfast, with Agatha trying to predict what the rest of the week would bring and slipping bits of bacon to Miss Puss that would remain on the floor until Mary swept up. Agatha was probably driving Thornbrook Park’s servants wild with requests to read their auras or give them a tarot spread. But when Alice got to the breakfast room, she realized that no one was up yet. Mrs. Hoyle informed her that the countess was still in bed. Agatha had yet to arrive. Even Lord Averford, usually up early to hunt, had remained in his room.

  “Snow puts people in a lazy frame of mind,” Mrs. Hoyle said, glowering at one of the footmen who scurried by with a tray of silver. “I don’t expect any of the family to be up for a few hours yet.”

  “Snow inspires me to be active,” Lady Alice explained. “I want to make snow angels, go sledding, have a snowball fight. I don’t suppose you would spare any of the servants for my amusement?”

  Mrs. Hoyle shook her head. “They all have more important duties, Lady Alice. You wouldn’t want to keep them from their work.”

  “No, of course. Wouldn’t want that.” She rolled her eyes. Asking about Winthrop wouldn’t do, she supposed.

  “I almost forgot.” Mrs. Hoyle reached in her pocket and turned over a slip of paper. “Mr. Finch took a message for you earlier this morning.”

  “A message for me?” She opened it. It was from Ralston, up early in pursuit of her, or up early and managing to appear to be in pursuit. He asked her to meet him at “their little lagoon” at three and to bring her skates. “Did he telephone?”

  “He rode here. Perhaps Lord Ralston shares Mr. Finch’s mistrust of modern conveniences.” Hoyle flashed a rare grin. “Or I suppose he was on his way somewhere. He didn’t stay more than a moment.”

  “I’m sorry that I missed him.”

  “If you’ll excuse me, I have duties to attend. Bill will be along with pastries and fresh hot water for tea.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hoyle.” After breakfast, Alice had a few hours to kill before heading off to the lagoon. Doubtless, it would be a long walk in the snow.

  Hours later, she was dressed for skating in her woolens and a becoming violet coat and hat, and on the way. Her skates still fit, a miracle. Alice was glad she’d thought to bring them along to Thornbrook Park, though she hadn’t had an opportunity to use them in her years there.

  She found her way to the lagoon with surprising ease considering how different the woods looked all caked in snow. Lucy had told her of a short cut through the Tilly Meadow farmland that made for a picturesque scene. It had started snowing again, adding to her good cheer. At least she had someone to enjoy activities with her. She would rather it be Winthrop than Ralston, but Winthrop had the enormous responsibility of managing a large estate. Ralston was a man of leisure, and he wasn’t there yet. She looked around. No sign of him.

  She sat on a snowbank to lace her skates while she waited, and then decided to test the ice and warm up. The pond was indeed frozen solid, and she still possessed the ability to glide across the ice gracefully. Her ankles had grown weak, though, and she decided to wait for Ralston before she tired herself out. No doubt he would be along at any moment.

  ***

  It was growing dark by the time Logan got back to the house. The new snow required him to offer encouragement and motivation to Thornbrook Park’s o
vertaxed grounds crew. They’d barely had enough time to recover from the previous storm, and this one looked to be worse.

  Inside, he meant to check on the lemon trees in the conservatory. Sturridge had been doing his best to keep them warm and would have sent word if they’d started to decline, but he thought it best to have a look. Along the way, he passed Lord and Lady Averford sharing tea in the drawing room and stopped to give them news on the storm’s progress.

  “It looks to be a bad one, worse perhaps than the last. The crew is prepared, but I told them to be sure to rest in turns and to remember that we can catch up with it once it slows down. We don’t need any injuries or health risks. It’s even colder tonight than it was yesterday.”

  “No indeed,” Lady Averford agreed. “Let it snow. Be sure Mrs. Mallows prepares a hearty stew to feed them.”

  “Done. She has stew simmering and fresh bread in the oven. I’ve told them to come in within the hour to rest and eat.”

  “Very good, Winthrop,” Lord Averford said, looking eager to get back to private conversation with his wife.

  It was encouraging to see them getting on well. Logan knew that the staff wished for another baby in the house, an heir. As much as everyone liked the earl’s brother, Captain Thorne, the idea of a new baby and more direct heir held a great deal of appeal.

  As soon as Logan took his leave, he headed for the conservatory, but ran into a befuddled Mr. Finch along the way.

  “What’s wrong, Finch?”

  “We’ve had a curious call on the telephone, that infernal machine. With the static on the line, I couldn’t hear well but I believe Lord Ralston meant to beg forgiveness from Lady Alice for canceling their plans. She had a message from him this morning to meet at their ‘lagoon’ at three o’clock. You don’t suppose…”

  Winthrop’s heart dropped like cannonball to his gut. “Did she go? Has she been out all this time?”

  “What lagoon?” Finch looked puzzled. “We have no lagoon.”

  “He means the Fairy Pool, I think. The servants enjoy bathing there in summer, and they call it the Fairy Pool. It’s a secluded pond near the old McGinty farm.”