To Tempt A Rogue by Adrienne Basso Page A

thundering snores that had echoed off the stone walls throughout the long night. Though claiming to be frightened and unsettled, the maid had apparently experienced no trouble sleeping.
    Harriet did not bother to wake Kate, deciding it was easier to dress for breakfast without listening to the maid’s usual patter of doom and gloom. She was perfectly capable of preparing herself for breakfast. Besides, Kate would be returning to England in a day or two. It was imperative that Harriet learn to care for herself and that included getting dressed each morning and undressed each evening. Unassisted.
    With a gentle sigh she rose from the bed and went through her luggage. It was not difficult to find an appropriate outfit, since she had purposely taken her dullest and most serviceable gowns. At her sister Elizabeth’s insistence she had also included two of her most flattering evening dresses, since it was not unheard of that a governess be asked, on occasion, to join the family for a social evening. Especially if an extra female was needed to make up the numbers at a dinner party or a card game.
    Of course, those instances occurred in a normal household. Harriet nearly laughed out loud, trying to imagine it happening in this strange, remote place. When pigs fly, perhaps.
    Wrinkling her nose with distaste, Harriet dipped her fingers gingerly into the cold water that remained in the porcelain basin from last night and washed her hands and face. With nimble movements she deftly pulled her hair into a tight, proper knot and secured it with several hairpins.
    There. She was ready. Yet as Harriet checked her reflection in the dull mirror, she felt suddenly overcome with a sense of melancholy. She had never been a beauty, nor professed any aspirations to become one. Yet the woman who looked back from the mirror seemed old beyond her years—severe, restrained, dull. In short, a governess.
    Was this truly the type of life she sought? She had felt so sure of her decision when it had been made months ago, but the reality of the situation was far from her imaginings. She was not surrounded by sweet, modest, easy to manage children. Instead there was a grumbling employer, surly servants, and accommodations that left much to be desired.
    Granted, they had hardly arrived under the best of circumstances, catching the household unaware, late in the evening, in dreadful weather. And she had not met the children, so it really was far too early to pass judgment.
    Comforted by this notion, Harriet picked up her warmest shawl and quietly left the bedchamber. Knowing better than to expect a servant to be available to lead her to the dining room, she gamely set out on her own. The rain that had started earlier in the morning was now a full-blown storm. Lightning flashed through the windows, illuminating the shadowed hall with eerie, uneven bursts of light.
    Harriet stole a nervous glance over her shoulder and for an instant considered returning to her room. But a quick look at the timepiece pinned to her gown confirmed she would be late if she did not move ahead. Imagining the smug, disapproving expression on Mr. Wainwright’s face spurred her onward.
    She turned another corner and her stomach gave a little twitch. Was this wing of the castle completely uninhabited? She had been walking, fairly rapidly, for nearly ten minutes and had encountered no one. Even the surly, disapproving features of the housekeeper, Mrs. Mullins, would be a welcome sight.
    At last Harriet came to a staircase. She was uncertain if this was the one she had used last night, but she knew the dining room would be located downstairs, so she descended, clutching the banister tightly to keep her footing. Once she gained the landing, Harriet compressed her lips, unsure of which direction to turn.
    A movement caught her eye, the flutter of a figure garbed in a simple mud-brown dress that nearly blended into the stone walls. Finally, a servant was found!
    â€œHello,”