uneasy feeling that for the rest
of her life she would know whenever he was in the vicinity. And, more disconcertingly, when he
was not nearby. It was as if during that brief meeting in the museum she had somehow become
attuned to him.
“My name is Winters,” he said. “I believe I am expected.”
“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Trevelyan said. Her voice bubbled with enthusiasm and curiosity. “This way
please, sir. Mrs. Pyne is in the drawing room. I’ll bring in the tea tray.”
Adelaide stepped quickly out into the hall. “No need for tea, Mrs. Trevelyan. Mr. Winters won’t
be staying long. He is here to collect an item that belongs to him, that’s all. It’s in the attic. I’ll
show him the way.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mrs. Trevelyan’s face fell, but she rallied swiftly. “It’s very dusty up in the attic.
I’m sure you’ll both be wanting tea after you come back down.”
“I don’t think so,” Adelaide said firmly. “Mr. Winters is a busy man. He’ll wish to be on his way
as soon as possible and as I have plans to go to the theater tonight, I don’t have a great deal of
time to spare, either.” She looked at Griffin. “If you’ll follow me, Mr. Winters, I’ll show you to
the attic.”
She gripped the key ring tightly, whisked up her skirts and moved quickly toward the staircase.
Griffin followed.
“Your housekeeper appears very eager to serve tea to your guests,” he remarked halfway up the
stairs.
“I suspect that she gets quite bored with only me and the daily maid for company.”
“Yours is a small household, I take it?”
She reached the first landing and started up the next flight. “I live alone except for Mrs.
Trevelyan.”
“You must find it difficult without your husband. My condolences on your loss.”
“Thank you. It has been several years now.”
“Yet you still wear mourning.”
“Sentiment aside, I find the veil useful, as I’m sure you noticed today at the museum.”
“Yes,” he said. “I can certainly understand the need for secrecy, given your hobby.”
She ignored that. “As for the lack of visitors in this house that is due to the fact that I have only
recently returned from America. I do not know many people here and I have no family.”
“If you no longer have any connections to England why did you return?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. She had been asking herself the very same question for weeks.
“All I can tell you is that it seemed like the right time to come back.”
She rounded another landing and climbed faster.
She set such a brisk pace on the last flight of stairs that by the time she reached the attic she was
panting a little. Griffin, however, did not appear to be the least bit winded. In fact, it was obvious
that he was in excellent physical condition.
It occurred to her that she had seen any number of gentlemen in various stages of undress in
recent weeks, thanks to her new pastime, but very few had been endowed with the sort of manly
physiques that made a lady want to look twice. She knew, however, that if she were ever to come
upon a nude Griffin Winters she would not be able to resist a peek. Make that a thoroughly
detailed scrutiny, she thought.
It was little wonder that Griffin was not breathless like her. He was not, after all, wearing several
pounds of clothing. She had long ago eschewed the stiff bone corset and some of the multiple
layers of undergarments that were currently fashionable. There was, however, no avoiding the
great weight of the many yards of heavy fabric necessary to create a stylish gown, to say nothing
of the petticoats required to support it. Her men’s clothing was infinitely more comfortable and
far less exhausting to wear.
“You were right,” Griffin said. His voice was very soft. “I haven’t seen the lamp since I was
sixteen but the energy is unmistakable. I can feel the currents even out here in the hall.”
She, too, was aware of the
of her life she would know whenever he was in the vicinity. And, more disconcertingly, when he
was not nearby. It was as if during that brief meeting in the museum she had somehow become
attuned to him.
“My name is Winters,” he said. “I believe I am expected.”
“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Trevelyan said. Her voice bubbled with enthusiasm and curiosity. “This way
please, sir. Mrs. Pyne is in the drawing room. I’ll bring in the tea tray.”
Adelaide stepped quickly out into the hall. “No need for tea, Mrs. Trevelyan. Mr. Winters won’t
be staying long. He is here to collect an item that belongs to him, that’s all. It’s in the attic. I’ll
show him the way.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mrs. Trevelyan’s face fell, but she rallied swiftly. “It’s very dusty up in the attic.
I’m sure you’ll both be wanting tea after you come back down.”
“I don’t think so,” Adelaide said firmly. “Mr. Winters is a busy man. He’ll wish to be on his way
as soon as possible and as I have plans to go to the theater tonight, I don’t have a great deal of
time to spare, either.” She looked at Griffin. “If you’ll follow me, Mr. Winters, I’ll show you to
the attic.”
She gripped the key ring tightly, whisked up her skirts and moved quickly toward the staircase.
Griffin followed.
“Your housekeeper appears very eager to serve tea to your guests,” he remarked halfway up the
stairs.
“I suspect that she gets quite bored with only me and the daily maid for company.”
“Yours is a small household, I take it?”
She reached the first landing and started up the next flight. “I live alone except for Mrs.
Trevelyan.”
“You must find it difficult without your husband. My condolences on your loss.”
“Thank you. It has been several years now.”
“Yet you still wear mourning.”
“Sentiment aside, I find the veil useful, as I’m sure you noticed today at the museum.”
“Yes,” he said. “I can certainly understand the need for secrecy, given your hobby.”
She ignored that. “As for the lack of visitors in this house that is due to the fact that I have only
recently returned from America. I do not know many people here and I have no family.”
“If you no longer have any connections to England why did you return?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. She had been asking herself the very same question for weeks.
“All I can tell you is that it seemed like the right time to come back.”
She rounded another landing and climbed faster.
She set such a brisk pace on the last flight of stairs that by the time she reached the attic she was
panting a little. Griffin, however, did not appear to be the least bit winded. In fact, it was obvious
that he was in excellent physical condition.
It occurred to her that she had seen any number of gentlemen in various stages of undress in
recent weeks, thanks to her new pastime, but very few had been endowed with the sort of manly
physiques that made a lady want to look twice. She knew, however, that if she were ever to come
upon a nude Griffin Winters she would not be able to resist a peek. Make that a thoroughly
detailed scrutiny, she thought.
It was little wonder that Griffin was not breathless like her. He was not, after all, wearing several
pounds of clothing. She had long ago eschewed the stiff bone corset and some of the multiple
layers of undergarments that were currently fashionable. There was, however, no avoiding the
great weight of the many yards of heavy fabric necessary to create a stylish gown, to say nothing
of the petticoats required to support it. Her men’s clothing was infinitely more comfortable and
far less exhausting to wear.
“You were right,” Griffin said. His voice was very soft. “I haven’t seen the lamp since I was
sixteen but the energy is unmistakable. I can feel the currents even out here in the hall.”
She, too, was aware of the
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