I’d returned late to the house, making an excuse about getting lost. One more mistake and I knew I’d be let go. The ginger, at least, had mysteriously appeared. If I’d taken the chocolates, I would have had something worth the embarrassment and frustration he’d caused. He, Lord Chambers. At least that’s what the shop owner had called him. So, he was a lord after all.
How dare he kiss me.
How dare he touch me so intimately.
How dare…
I sighed.
How dare I like it.
With desperation and anger born of a week’s worth of erotic dreams that left me heated and aching, I scraped at the hearth. Every little flake, every smudge had to be gone. With over a hundred people in the ballroom, it would be warm enough without a blazing hearth. However, it must be ready just in case.
During the day I was busy enough not to be consumed by every detail of that heated kiss. The way he’d run his hand up my thigh. The way he’d brushed his knuckles over my nest of curls. But at night, the memories of his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth, his hands skimming my body, could not be denied.
I stood, my legs numb, my back aching. We’d been up for twelve hours, preparing the estate. I paused for a moment to admire the work. Footmen scurried across the large ballroom, placing chairs around the perimeter for women to sit and relax. Maids were making sure the massive flower arrangements of red roses and white lilies were perfect, not a wilting bloom, in the middle of winter, no less. Mistletoe hung randomly in doorways, while evergreen boughs were pinned along the large fireplace mantel.
Even the dark blue curtains had been replaced with a vibrant red, thrown wide so one could see the freshly fallen snow in the back gardens, and on the rooftops of the surrounding estates. And, I had a feeling, so those who had not been invited might drive by and be filled with envy at seeing the merriment. Silly games that rich people played.
An exhausted, yet excited twitter ran through the house. Even I, cynical as I was, couldn’t help but admit I was looking forward to seeing the many gowns, the elegant dances, the exotic meals. Only in fairy tales had I thought people lived this way.
“Think about what you could have.”
Gabe’s whispered words of temptation tiptoed through my mind.
Money. A home. Clothing. Food.
Shame. Guilt. Sin.
“Ginny. Ginny! Where are you, stupid gurl?”
The housekeeper’s voice echoed across the large room, drawing more than one person’s notice. How I despised the old bat. She seemed to take every opportunity to humiliate me. Quickly, I brushed at my skirts, making sure they were clean. I could speak multiple languages, play the piano with a decent hand, yet I was the stupid one?
“I’m here.” I picked up my tools and raced across the room, careful not to slip on the polished wood. “Here!”
Mrs. Finch stood near the entrance of the hall, her hands on her round hips. “Are you finished? Good God, gurl! Hurry! The guests will be arriving any minute now! They’re already lining up outside.”
I came to a skidding halt beside her. “Yes, Mum.”
She looked at me with something akin to disgust. It was as if she so desperately wanted to toss me out on my ear, but hadn’t the reason quite yet. Or perhaps she was waiting until after the ball. “You will be out of sight, understand? Unless you are needed, you will wait in the kitchens with the others.”
I nodded. With a grunt, she left me, only to hurry over to a potted fern that had been knocked off center. It wasn’t until she started to berate another maid that I could finally relax. If it wasn’t for Vi, I would’ve walked out after the first day.
“Would you like me to take that for you, Ginny?”
I smiled up at Henry as he paused next to me. “Yes, thank you.”
With his lopsided grin and enduring blush, the tall, lanky footman took the bucket and shovel, and disappeared through a door that led into the servant’s hall. He was my age, yet seemed so much younger. He’d grown up here. Had seen nothing else of this world. I could have easily flirted with and married someone like Henry. I should have been content with a man like him. Why wasn’t I? Because he seemed more like a boy than a man.