From CHAPTER EIGHT
When Harold reached his dressing room at last, Abhijeet stood waiting.
“Bless,” the valet said under his breath.
“I see it as my duty to keep you busy.” Harold smirked as Abhijeet began removing the offending clothes.
“After seeing the guests racing the rain, I expected dampness, but you’ve outdone yourself.”
Undressed, Harold donned a banyan and took the chair next to the fireplace. A chill seeped into his bones with the wet clothes removed. He shuddered.
Abhijeet cast him a sideways glance as he hung the sodden garments. “A warm bath then? Or are you remembering the company you were entertaining?”
Pulling the collar of the banyan higher about his neck, Harold barked a laugh. “Both.” He felt foolish for shivering, but there it was. A grown man shivering by the fire. As long as he did not catch a chill.
“I know one lady’s company you weren’t keeping today.”
Hands tucked under his armpits and legs crossed, Harold dipped his chin for Abhijeet to continue.
“Miss Trethow.”
His valet held his full attention.
Abhijeet carried on with the garments before fetching a blanket for Harold to wrap around himself. He carried on some more with bath preparations, ringing for water to be boiled and brought up, setting out the soap, and Harold knew not what else. The daft man was dragging out the suspense. From time to time, the valet glanced his way with a coy grin as if to say he had a secret Harold wanted. And he did want it.
“Out with it!” Harold insisted with a laugh.
The sadist hummed to himself for a few more moments before saying, “Miss Trethow spent her lake time in the parlor.”
“And?”
“With the Earl of Driffield.”
Harold’s blood turned cold.
“Let me be the first to tell you they were not whinging over the bland English food.” The valet gave him a knowing look.
Excerpted from The Heir and the Enchantress by Paullett Golden, Copyright © 2021 by Paullett Golden.
