when she noticed him, her eyes lingering upon him before she turned back to the lady who was speaking to her.
“I’ll take the east end, you the west,” Benjamin whispered as he walked to the far edge of the gallery and took up his post.
Adrian did the same. His mind began to wander, but each stray thought seemed to bring him back to Venetia. She and her grandmother were deep in conversation with Lady Devon and Lady Mowbray.
He recognized who his half sister was the moment he saw her, spying hints of himself in her amber eyes and the way her mouth curved in a smile. And the dark hair piled atop her head in fashionable curls was the same rich dark color as his own. He tried desperately not to think about how his own flesh and blood stood not ten feet away. The woman knew nothing of him. She’d been born into a life of luxury and opportunity, while he was trapped, forever serving those like her.
He was as close to a statue as he could be, but his white-gloved hands curled into fists. This time stray thoughts of Venetia were welcome because they kept his rage at his father and grief for his mother at bay.
After a time, he became aware of a pair of eyes upon him. They were not Venetia’s eyes, nor Lady Mowbray’s. It was Mr. Sherman’s sister, Mrs. Hamill. Her pale-blue eyes were fixed on him, and a hint of a smile was on her lips.
“Lady Devon. Would you mind terribly if I had your footman help me with something? My maid is likely having tea at this time, and I do not wish to disturb her,” Mrs. Hamill said sweetly.
“Of course. Benjamin would—”
Mrs. Hamill nodded at Adrian. “Oh, but this one is much closer.” Her words created a chill that raced along his skin. He knew just what sort of task she would need help with, and he had no desire to leave this spot.
“Adrian, would you please see to Mrs. Hamill?”
“Yes, your ladyship.” Anxiety knotted inside him as he followed Mrs. Hamill out the door. He had seen that all too familiar look in her eyes from a dozen women before.
“This way,” the woman called briskly. He followed her in the direction of the rooms on the second floor where most of the guests were staying. She opened her bedchamber door, glanced about to check that they were alone, and motioned for him to join her. He did so reluctantly. Mrs. Hamill closed the door behind him and turned the key in the lock.
“We must be quick, and do not muss my hair.” She sat on the edge of the bed and started to lift her skirts.
“Madam, please—” Adrian nearly reached out to pull her skirts back down, but he had tried that once before with another woman, and it had made it nearly impossible to pry the lusty creature off him. It was wiser to keep his distance.
“Don’t be silly. Come over here now,” she commanded.
Adrian held back a retort that he was not some stud put in a paddock to breed. To her, he was.
“I apologize, but I cannot. Lady Devon does not allow guests and staff to—”
“She would rather have her guests needs satisfied. Isn’t that correct?” Mrs. Hamill began to unfasten the buttons on the front of her gown. This was going to end badly, but he had to extricate himself.
“I’m happy to attend to any needs other than the ones your husband alone should see to.”
The woman hissed like an angry cat. She grabbed a silver-handled hairbrush off a table and hurled it at him. He ducked as it collided against the wall, and he nearly broke the key as he violently twisted it in the lock to get free. He stumbled into the corridor and slammed the door shut behind him, then took off running. He had to put as much distance between him and Mrs. Hamill as possible. Adrian skidded to a stop at the top of the servants’ stairs and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes as he regained his breath.
“Adrian?” Mr. Reeves’s tone held a note of suspicion.
Christ, he thought. Never one bloody moment alone in this life.
He opened his eyes and faced the butler. “Sir?”
“Shouldn’t you be in the picture gallery with Benjamin?”
“I was called away to assist Mrs. Hamill with an errand.” Adrian wanted to tell Mr. Reeves about Mrs. Hamill, but he feared that it would only