CHAPTER 1
Don’t tell! Promise me you will never
tell.
Shannah pushed Garnette’s words back into the
recesses of her mind and concentrated on scrubbing the flagstones.
She thought of her sister often this time of year, but she couldn’t
afford to be distracted. Everything had to be just perfect for
Viscountess Wyndham’s birthday celebration, or the entire household
would suffer—and they all knew it.
The Viscountess wasn’t a particularly
difficult woman to please but she had her preferences, and since
her husband’s death last autumn, she had pressed her inclinations
without exception.
But even before his death, the viscount made
certain his wife’s annual birthday celebration was a party to be
envied. A certain standard had been set, and it was a point of
pride among the household staff that the standard be upheld.
Shannah frowned at a particularly stubborn
spot of ick. Her ladyship would not be pleased if her guests saw
that. She worked it away, alternating with the brush and her
fingernail until the spot gleamed like the rest of the stones. She
didn’t take the time to wonder what she’d just scraped up, though
she dipped her hand in the soapy water for good measure.
Boot steps behind her drew her attention.
Viscount Wyndham climbed the stairs that led to the front door, to
where she knelt, his freshly muddied boots leaving a whole new mess
on the gleaming front steps.
She gasped and he looked up, noticing her.
His rich chocolate eyes quickly took in the bucket, her scrub
brush, and the mud in his wake.
He had the grace to look chagrined. “I’m
terribly sorry. That was thoughtless of me.”
Shannah refrained from agreeing. Instead she
started to rise.
“Here.” He moved like lightning to her side,
a hand at her elbow.
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Please, don’t. It’s silly to thank me after
the mess I’ve just made for you.” He gestured toward the manor.
“I’ll send someone to help you. It’s the least I can do.”
“Everyone is busy preparing for my lady’s
ball, my lord,” she said. “Mrs. Scrab can’t spare another.”
“Ah, yes.” He shot her a disarming smile,
white teeth gleaming against his midnight complexion. “My mother’s
party. I should get out of your way, then.”
She looked up at him. “If I could, my lord, I
would suggest you leave your boots outside. Alice and Jayne have
spent the last hour polishing the floor.”
“A wise suggestion. Thank you, Shannah.”
She blinked. He knew her name?
He seemed to read her mind. “Come now, I
haven’t accumulated so many servants that I can’t remember all
their names.”
She lowered her head. “My lord.”
He slid off his boots and left them by the
door before entering the house. Shannah watched him go. His father
had been a rather serious, stern man, but the new viscount was so
nice. She could almost forget how dangerous he was.
Shannah looked at his boots and imagined
Joshua, his valet, retrieving them for cleaning. She shook her head
and took a rag to them, wiping all the excess mud off the boots and
the steps where they sat. They would still need a good polishing,
but at least mud wouldn’t drip from them onto the carpets as Joshua
carried them up the stairs.
She returned to the steps and cleaned off all
the fresh mud the viscount left behind. Once she’d finished,
Shannah carried her things around to the kitchen entrance of the
house. She’d just poured the filthy water from her bucket when she
heard a crash followed by a cry of pain.
Shannah raced into the kitchen. She didn’t
get far, though, because a crowd had started to gather around
Jayne, who sat wailing on the floor, an overturned stepladder
behind her. Mrs. Scrab, the housekeeper, stood over the maid,
wringing her hands.
“What happened?” Shannah asked Alice, who
stood nearest.
“Mrs. Scrab told Jayne to fetch the pan up on
that high shelf, and Jayne said she wouldn’t because that ladder’s
too rickety.” Alice shook
Don’t tell! Promise me you will never
tell.
Shannah pushed Garnette’s words back into the
recesses of her mind and concentrated on scrubbing the flagstones.
She thought of her sister often this time of year, but she couldn’t
afford to be distracted. Everything had to be just perfect for
Viscountess Wyndham’s birthday celebration, or the entire household
would suffer—and they all knew it.
The Viscountess wasn’t a particularly
difficult woman to please but she had her preferences, and since
her husband’s death last autumn, she had pressed her inclinations
without exception.
But even before his death, the viscount made
certain his wife’s annual birthday celebration was a party to be
envied. A certain standard had been set, and it was a point of
pride among the household staff that the standard be upheld.
Shannah frowned at a particularly stubborn
spot of ick. Her ladyship would not be pleased if her guests saw
that. She worked it away, alternating with the brush and her
fingernail until the spot gleamed like the rest of the stones. She
didn’t take the time to wonder what she’d just scraped up, though
she dipped her hand in the soapy water for good measure.
Boot steps behind her drew her attention.
Viscount Wyndham climbed the stairs that led to the front door, to
where she knelt, his freshly muddied boots leaving a whole new mess
on the gleaming front steps.
She gasped and he looked up, noticing her.
His rich chocolate eyes quickly took in the bucket, her scrub
brush, and the mud in his wake.
He had the grace to look chagrined. “I’m
terribly sorry. That was thoughtless of me.”
Shannah refrained from agreeing. Instead she
started to rise.
“Here.” He moved like lightning to her side,
a hand at her elbow.
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Please, don’t. It’s silly to thank me after
the mess I’ve just made for you.” He gestured toward the manor.
“I’ll send someone to help you. It’s the least I can do.”
“Everyone is busy preparing for my lady’s
ball, my lord,” she said. “Mrs. Scrab can’t spare another.”
“Ah, yes.” He shot her a disarming smile,
white teeth gleaming against his midnight complexion. “My mother’s
party. I should get out of your way, then.”
She looked up at him. “If I could, my lord, I
would suggest you leave your boots outside. Alice and Jayne have
spent the last hour polishing the floor.”
“A wise suggestion. Thank you, Shannah.”
She blinked. He knew her name?
He seemed to read her mind. “Come now, I
haven’t accumulated so many servants that I can’t remember all
their names.”
She lowered her head. “My lord.”
He slid off his boots and left them by the
door before entering the house. Shannah watched him go. His father
had been a rather serious, stern man, but the new viscount was so
nice. She could almost forget how dangerous he was.
Shannah looked at his boots and imagined
Joshua, his valet, retrieving them for cleaning. She shook her head
and took a rag to them, wiping all the excess mud off the boots and
the steps where they sat. They would still need a good polishing,
but at least mud wouldn’t drip from them onto the carpets as Joshua
carried them up the stairs.
She returned to the steps and cleaned off all
the fresh mud the viscount left behind. Once she’d finished,
Shannah carried her things around to the kitchen entrance of the
house. She’d just poured the filthy water from her bucket when she
heard a crash followed by a cry of pain.
Shannah raced into the kitchen. She didn’t
get far, though, because a crowd had started to gather around
Jayne, who sat wailing on the floor, an overturned stepladder
behind her. Mrs. Scrab, the housekeeper, stood over the maid,
wringing her hands.
“What happened?” Shannah asked Alice, who
stood nearest.
“Mrs. Scrab told Jayne to fetch the pan up on
that high shelf, and Jayne said she wouldn’t because that ladder’s
too rickety.” Alice shook
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