The Lady’s Secret by Joanna Chambers Page B

things to do.”
    Stan scowled at her but said nothing further. She lifted a single valise and followed the two of them into the servants’ entrance and up the back stairs.
    Two flights up, they emerged onto a wide corridor, the polished parquet flooring in stark contrast to the rough stone stairs they’d just come up. The footmen led her to one in a row of closed doors that stretched down the length of the corridor. She opened the door and strolled inside.
    The chamber was large and elegantly furnished. A fire burned merrily in the grate. She walked to the window to look outside, barely aware of the footmen behind her putting down the crate then leaving the room for the next load. Outside, the rolling park stretched for miles, and a church spire and the rooftops of a tidy village could just be seen in the distance. It was exactly the view her father had described as the one he’d enjoyed from his bedchamber.
    Could this room have been his? When she drew away from the window, she moved around the room, touching the furniture and examining the pictures on the wall, imagining it as her father’s. It made her feel oddly happy—unlike the image of Dunsmore and his mother standing like crows at the front door, identical sour expressions on their faces.
    When the footmen brought the last load—the truckle bed—into the chamber, it became apparent that it wasn’t going to fit in the dressing room along with that huge crate of Harland’s. The furniture was going to have to be moved. Georgy asked the footmen to help her.
    “Can’t,” Stan said smugly. “Another party’s arrived. You’ll have to do it yourself or wait for a few hours till all the guests have come and we’ve unloaded all the carriages.”
    “It’ll only take a few minutes,” Georgy replied, trying to keep the pleading note out of her voice.
    “We’ve been told to stay downstairs, where we can be called quickly,” Dick said with obvious relish. They swaggered away.
    There was no question of waiting for a few hours to sort Harland’s rooms out. He would expect everything to be in order by the time he came up to dress for dinner. It was so frustrating, when all she wanted to do was explore the house.
    She gritted teeth and began the task herself.
    By the time Harland walked in, a couple of hours after their arrival, she was still only halfway through unpacking his luggage. His clothing sat in piles, waiting to be hung in the wardrobe or folded and placed in the armoire.
    Harland stopped in the middle of the bedchamber and gazed at the chaos all around with an exasperated frown.
    “Not finished yet, Fellowes?”
    “I’m afraid not, my lord,” Georgy murmured, hastily buttoning up her waistcoat. Her coat was off and she knew that her face was rosy from her exertions, a sheen of sweat on her brow.
    “I had planned to rest for an hour or so before taking a bath,” he said.
    “Do you wish me to clear everything out of the way, my lord? I could take these things into the dressing room and deal with hanging them later. And while you rest I could take your clothes for this evening down to the laundry for pressing.”
    “I wouldn’t dream of hindering you in your work, Fellowes. I will read my book while you finish what you’re doing.”
    “Very good, my lord.” She did not enjoy working around him. Her awareness of him was too acute. And there was always the worry that if he watched her, he’d notice something wrong.
    Harland sat down on the bed. “Help me off with these boots, there’s a good chap.” He stretched a leg out and leaned back, gazing at Georgy from beneath lowered lids.
    Their eyes met for just an instant and Georgy felt a jolt in her chest. She looked quickly away, down at his booted leg. It was unlike him to look directly at her. She reached forward to grasp the heel of his boot in one hand and the toe in the other and pulled it off in one smooth controlled movement, placing the boot neatly on the floor beside her. He stretched