Sophia was nearly undone by his words. 'I must return to my work,' she said gravely. 'Before I do, is there something you want, Sir Ross? Some refreshments, or perhaps coffee?'
'Just you.'
The quiet statement made her knees weak. Sophia struggled to keep her voice calm. As if her mouth were not dry with longing. As if her body were not thumping with desire. She strove to change the direction of the conversation. 'How is your shoulder, sir?'
'It's healing well. Would you like to have a look?' His fingers went to the knot of his cravat, as if he were willing to undress for her right there. Sophia shot a startled glance at him, and saw from the glint in his eyes that he was teasing.
If she was ever going to put a stop to the attraction that had developed between them, it would have to be now. 'Sir Ross, now that you are well again, and I have had a few days to consider our...our...'
'Relationship?' he supplied helpfully.
'Yes. I have reached a conclusion.'
'What conclusion is that?'
'A...an intimate association would not be wise for either of us. I am content to be your servant, nothing more.' She faltered only a little as she finished her recitation. 'From now on, I will not welcome any advances from you.'
His smoky gaze held hers. Finally he spoke in a gentle murmur. 'We'll discuss the matter later. After the weekend. And then you and I are going to come to an understanding.'
Breathing in shallow gulps, Sophia turned to busy herself with the articles on a nearby shelf. Her fingers encountered a sheaf of dried herbs, and her fingers fumbled with the crackling leaves, inadvertently crumbling them. 'I will not change my mind.' 'I think you will,' he said softly, and left.
Noblemen, politicians, and professional men moved through the circuit of common rooms and out to the gardens in back. Groups of ladies played cards, gossiped over needlework or magazines, or went on walks along the neat graveled pathways outside. The gentlemen gathered in the billiards room, read newspapers in the library, or strolled to the pavilion at the lake. It was a warm June day, the breeze insufficient to atone for the unseasonable strength of the sun.
Behind the scenes, the servants were busy cleaning, preparing food, and pressing and airing the many changes of clothes that would be needed for each day of the house party. The kitchen was steaming and fragrant, the bread ovens filled with baking dough, the spit-jacks turning roast fowls, joints of beef, and large hams. Under the direction of the cook, kitchen maids wrapped trussed quails with vine leaves and bacon, then threaded them on skewers. The quail would be offered as a late-afternoon luncheon to satisfy the guests' appetites until supper was served at ten o'clock.
Pleased that everything was running smoothly, Sophia went to the large windows at the top of the grand staircase and watched the guests mingling on the terraced lawn below. She located Ross at once. His dark form was easy to distinguish from the others. Although he wore his authority comfortably, he was a man of almost legendary accomplishments, and the guests were clearly in awe of him.
Sophia felt a prickle of jealousy as she saw the way the women fluttered around him in nervous excitement, how they chattered and smiled and sent him flirtatious glances. Apparently Ross's reputation as a chaste-living gentleman did not dampen feminine ardor, but rather fanned it into vigorous flame. Sophia was certain that many women present, no matter what their age or circumstance, would have loved to claim that they had managed to snare the elusive widower's interest.
Sophia's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the marble staircase. She turned from the window to view a pair of footmen carrying an extremely large trunk, their faces reddened from the exertion. Matthew Cannon followed them, escorting a slender and very pretty blond girl. Neither of them seemed to notice Sophia until they reached the landing.
Dipping into a curtsy, Sophia murmured, 'Good afternoon, Mr. Cannon.'
Matthew regarded her with obvious surprise. Amused, Sophia realized that he had not been told that she was here. But of course, matters involving servants would certainly be of no interest to him.
'What are you doing here?' he asked rudely.
She kept her gaze submissively lowered as she replied, 'I was summoned by Mrs. Cannon to help with the preparations for the party, as the previous housekeeper left rather precipitately.'
The young blond woman looked up at Matthew. 'Who is she?'
He gave a dismissive shrug. 'Only my brother's servant. Come, Iona, it is unseemly for us to dawdle on the landing.'
As the pair left, Sophia observed them with interest. Matthew's wife was a classic English beauty, golden and fair, her eyes pale blue, her mouth as small and red as a rosebud. Iona seemed cool and remote, as if she were incapable of ever being in a temper. Sophia felt sorry for her. Marriage to a spoiled brat like Matthew could not be easy. Much later in the evening, the guests proceeded into the dining room, which was dominated by a marble inglenook fireplace. Great stone arches framed a series of pre-Raphaelite stained-glass windows that glittered in the blaze of candlelight. Sophia concealed herself from view as much as possible, occasionally conferring with the footmen as they served the eight-course meal, which included braised beef, John Dory fish, roast hare and teal, and pheasant sausage. After a lengthy succession of removes, a selection of jellies, cakes, and ices was served.
At the conclusion of supper, the footmen removed all the dishes and used clean silver knives to scrape any crumbs from the tablecloth. The ladies withdrew for coffee in the drawing room. Although most of the gentlemen remained at the table for port and masculine conversation, a few headed to the billiards room for a smoke. Following a half hour of segregation, the entire crowd rejoined in the drawing room for tea and entertainment.
Sophia entered the room discreetly and glanced at Catherine Cannon to see if she was satisfied. As their gazes met, Catherine smiled and gestured for Sophia to come to her.
Sophia obeyed quickly. 'Yes, Mrs. Cannon?'
'Sophia, the guests wish to play a game of murder.'
'Ma'am?' Sophia asked, mildly startled.
Catherine laughed at her expression. 'Murder is all the rage just now--haven't you heard of it? The players draw slips of paper from a bowl to see what parts they are to take. One slip says 'murderer,' another is labeled 'investigator,' and all the rest are potential victims. The house must be darkened, and everyone goes to hide. The murderer goes about finding his victims, while the investigator tries to discover his--or her--identity.'
'Like hide-and-seek.'
'Exactly! Now, Sophia, take one or two of the maids and darken the house. And tell the servants to go about their work without getting in the way of the players.'
'Yes, Mrs. Cannon. May I ask which areas of the house are to be dimmed?'
One of Catherine's companions, a middle-aged woman with an elegant sweep of red-gold hair, answered disdainfully. 'The whole of it, of course! The game would not be nearly as exciting if we couldn't use the whole house.'
Ignoring the woman, Sophia lowered her head and murmured to Catherine, 'Mrs. Cannon, may I suggest that the kitchen remain lighted, as the scullery maids have a great deal of washing up to do?'
Catherine's green eyes sparkled with amusement. 'A wise suggestion, Sophia. You may keep the kitchen lit. Now hurry, please, as I fear many of the guests are impatient to begin.'
'Yes, ma'am.'
As Sophia walked away, she heard the red-haired woman say to Catherine, 'I don't fancy her manner, Cathy. Rather proud, if you ask me. Not at all appropriate for a housekeeper.' Sophia's ears burned when she heard herself being criticized. 'No one asked for your opinion,' she muttered beneath her breath. Try as she might, she could not stop herself from thinking bitterly that if fate had been kinder, she might have been a guest this very evening. She had been born the social equal of these people, and she had little patience for their pretensions. In fact, her blood was bluer than the Cannons', though that was of no consequence now.
After directing the housemaids to darken the rooms, Sophia went to turn down the lamps in one of the upstairs receiving rooms. Moonlight glowed through the window, and she began to draw the velvet panels over the glass panes.
Someone entered the room. Sophia hesitated in a pool of moonlight as she turned toward the visitor. At first glance, the man's shadowed form reminded her of Ross, and her heart jolted with anticipation. But the sound of his
