Page 23 of The Villain
Lord Hartmoor had achieved the very thing she had hoped he would not by making her desire him. While it should relieve her that she would at least find pleasure during their encounters, it also frightened her. The man had paid to use her body as if she were no better than a prostitute, and now, he would make her like it. If the way she was feeling right now were any indication, he would make her crave it.
Turning her thoughts away from him proved impossible when she remained always aware of her surroundings, the ominous castle a reflection of its owner. A bit of fresh air would help to clear her head before she would inevitably face him again. She returned to her chambers for a shawl, uncertain of the weather, but knowing protection from catching a chill would be needed when she traipsed about with only one layer of fabric between herself and the elements.
As she left her room, she nearly collided with a maid carrying a basket full of freshly laundered clothing. She gasped as the woman fell onto her rear on the ground, several items falling out of her basket.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she said, reaching down to offer the maid a hand up. “I’m afraid my mind was elsewhere.”
The maid smiled, but it seemed forced. She pointedly avoided Daphne’s gaze as she crouched to begin picking up the things that had fallen out of her basket.
“It’s quite all right, m’lady,” the maid mumbled.
“Here, let me help you,” Daphne said, kneeling to lend a hand.
The maid gasped, snatching the items she held and shoving them into the basket. Daphne frowned while the maid swiftly gathered the other articles as if offended that she would dare touch them. Shoving them quickly under a stack of linens, she straightened and bobbed in a swift curtsy.
“Sorry to have troubled you, m’lady,” she mumbled before moving quickly around Daphne and disappearing down the corridor.
Brow furrowed, she turned and watched the maid retreat, her curiosity growing as she turned left and ventured down the forbidden corridor. Lingering where the maid had left her, Daphne’s mind spun as she considered what she’d just seen. The only indoor servants she’d encountered since arriving at Dunnottar had been Maeve and Niall. Her assumption that there must be a larger staff here rang true now that she’d spotted a chambermaid in the halls. More disconcerting proved the clothing she’d noticed in the woman’s hands. Clothing trimmed in bits of lace.
Clothing which clearly belonged to a female.
And since the maid had taken them, freshly laundered, into the forbidden corridor, Daphne could only conclude that Dunnottar had a female resident. Bile rose up in the back of her throat, acidic and bitter as she wondered who the woman might be. A wife, a mistress? Another unsuspecting chit like her, who had been coerced into selling her body?
The thought caused her throat to clench, anger fisting her hands at her sides. She must know the truth—especially if there turned out to be a Lady Hartmoor she’d known nothing about. She could not—wouldnot—lay with another woman’s husband, not even for thirty thousand pounds. Not even for the answers she had come for. It was one thing to sell herself … it was quite another to commit a sin so grievous as to participate in adultery.
That decided, she made her way to Adam’s study. Her shoulders slumped when she found it empty, the fire in the hearths burned down to nothing but embers. In a huff, she stomped back to her room, determined to find answers. There, she found Maeve hanging the last of her gowns in the armoire.
“Oh, my lady!” Maeve exclaimed, turning to face her with a bright smile. “Is there something you’re needing?”
“Yes,” she declared, closing the door firmly and crossing her arms over her chest as she faced the rosy-faced young woman. “You can tell me who else resides here with Lord Hartmoor.”
If she weren’t mistaken, the maid’s cheeks flushed scarlet, her gaze lowering to the floor.
“Well, there’s Niall and me, of course,” she murmured, her voice so low, Daphne had to edge closer to hear.
“Of course,” she prodded. “And a host of other servants, I imagine. A castle of this size must require a large staff to see it run efficiently.”
Maeve nodded, forcing a smile and timidly meeting Daphne’s gaze. “You’ve the right of it. There’s the cook and the scullery maids, the footmen and grooms … chambermaids and the like.”
Inclining her head, Daphne raised one eyebrow. “And who, besides Lord Hartmoor, do these servants tend to? A wife? A mistress? Members of the Callahan family?”
Lifting her chin, Maeve folded her hands neatly before her. “Now, my lady, it will not do for you to ask such questions of me. The Master will not like it.”
“Hang what your Master does or does not like!” Daphne spat, her nerves already frazzled by the explosive encounter in the music room, and now the realization that she might be cuckolding the lady of the manor in her own home.
Maeve gasped, flinching as if Daphne had blasphemed. “My lady, please … your time here could be so much more enjoyable if you do not go putting your nose where it doesn’t belong. The Master wants you here, in this corridor, where you’ll be comfortable and—”
“And ensconced away from his lady wife?” she interjected.
“No, my lady,” Maeve replied, a pleading tone in her voice. “It is nothing like that.”
“Then why will you not simply tell me?”
Moving around Daphne and busying herself with tidying the surface of the vanity, the maid went on avoiding her gaze. “Please, speak of this no more. If the Master knew we’d discussed this, he’d be furious.”
Scoffing, Daphne waved a dismissive hand at Maeve. Her long legs carried her quickly to the door, which she threw open and slammed behind her in her frustration. She was not usually so petulant, but the unwavering loyalty of this woman to her so-called ‘Master’ irked her to no end. With a sardonic smirk, she wondered what Maeve would think of Adam if she knew of the things he’d done to her on top of his pianoforte. Her face flushed at the thought, and she supposed the maid might not hate him for it. After all, he’d ensured Daphne received her pleasure before taking his own.
But, at what cost could she enjoy his hands on her body, and eventually the coupling he was parting with a small fortune for?
