Read A Lesson in Desire: Season of Desire Part 3 (Seasons Quartet) for Free Online

kind of spy. I have to remind myself that I’m in my own home. I have a right to be here. Or do I? This feels disconnected to the life I know upstairs, with its light and luxury. I have a feeling the staff would not be happy to see me on their territory, and I hope that they’re all asleep.
    I pass a kitchen, a large dining room with half a dozen or so small tables each set for four people, and then a sitting room, where another television is playing and a man I don’t recognise is asleep in front of it in an armchair.
    I had no idea my house was so full of strangers.
    I’m obviously in the staff quarters but how am I going to find Miles? I turn a corner and come to a wide hallway, with a table against one wall and above that, some rows of pigeonholes, a few stuffed with envelopes. I go over and examine them. Each pigeonhole has a name and number below it. This must be where the staff receive their post and internal communications. I scan them quickly, my heart beating faster. At first, I can’t see Miles’s name and have to calm myself and look again more slowly and carefully. Then, I find it: M. Murray. There’s no number next to his name. The numbers must be room numbers. Why isn’t there one for Miles? The pigeonhole is empty.
    I look quickly at the other names. There are at least two dozen. Is that really how many people it takes to run my family’s life? And that’s just here at the mountain house. There are more throughout the world at my father’s many properties. All this staff, just to look after four people. I shake my head at the oddness of it, and push it out of my mind as I do a quick process of elimination on the numbers I can see against the other names. The numbers seem to run from one to twenty-five, and three numbers are not listed: 17, 21 and 24. So if Miles doesn’t have an allocated room, perhaps he’s in one of these others.
    This is completely crazy. But I’m going to see what I can find.
    Two corridors lead off from the hall, one labelled 1–15 and the other labelled 16–25. I head down the second one, guessing the labels must be directing towards the room numbers, and sure enough I soon pass a grey door numbered 16, then another, number 17. This place is like a dour hotel, I think, stopping in front of 17, the first of what I guess are the unoccupied rooms.
    My palm feels clammy as I reach out and take hold of the doorknob. Very carefully, I twist it but I only manage half a turn before it stops. The door must be locked. I daren’t force the handle or rattle the door in case there is someone inside. I let it go, and release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Then I turn and walk on further down the corridor, passing 18, 19 and 20, coming to a halt in front of 21. I’m even more nervous this time. What if it’s open, but the person inside is not Miles? How on earth will I explain myself? I can’t even begin to think of the questions that will be asked if I’m discovered here.
    I steel myself, take hold of the handle and twist it. The same thing happens. A quarter turn and then a dead halt. It’s locked. I try again but with the same result. That leaves only one room left that isn’t occupied by someone else, at least as far as I can guess. I walk on towards the last four doors. I’m already giving up on this foolhardy mission but I’ve come so far, I may as well go on. The security guard is probably still watching his television show or no doubt he’d have come to investigate by now.
    I’m standing in front of room number 24. The door looks identical to the others, with its chrome number, peephole and doorknob. Could this be the one with Miles behind it? There’s only one way to find out. I’m about to reach out and take hold of the handle when I’m grabbed swiftly from behind, my head is jerked back and a hand is clamped hard over my mouth. There’s no time to make a sound and before I can work out what is happening, I’m being pulled along the corridor the way I