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she knew the truth, and Samantha had no intention of that happening.
    Less than an hour later, Samantha was on the road again, headed back toward Lord Chattel’s estate with a small trunk of her things. She’d also had John tie Henry’s horse, Midnight, to the back of the coach, figuring the fine animal would be safe in Lord Chattel’s barn. She didn’t want Mrs. Potter to have to care for him and she wanted to feel like she had a way of escape if she needed one.
    By now it was getting very late, and she found herself nodding off a time or two. She’d left at the crack of dawn, knowing the trip would take her a couple of hours by foot, and she was a bit stiff and sore from where Lord Chattel had tackled her.
    Their arrival ba ck at the estate was not met with any fanfare. Lord Chattel did not greet her, but his taciturn butler, Joseph, met her inside the front door as John carried her trunk up the stairs.
    ”Lord Chattel instructed me to show you your roo m and get you anything you need,” Joseph told her as he led her to her room where John had already deposited her trunk. “However, there will not be a maid to attend to you, as we have limited staff.”
    “That’s quite all right,” she assured him. It wasn’t as though she’d ever had a maid before, after all.
    “He also said that he prefer you not bother him while he is working,” Joseph continued, looking embarrassed.
    “He’ s regretting his decision already, isn’t he?”
    She could tell she had guessed correctly , even though Joseph merely bowed and backed away. “Good evening, Mrs. Blake. Ring if you need anything.”
    After he’d left, she looked around the room in awe. The entire second floor of her house could almost fit in this bedroom. Blue and cream were the predominate colors. A large white marble fireplace held a roaring fire, and the curtains on the two floor-to-ceiling windows were thick blue velvet that kept out the winter chill.
    The lovely bedside table held several books and a beautiful bouquet of flowers in a crystal vase. “How in the world do they have flowers in the middle of the winter?” she mused out loud as she inhaled their lovely perfume. There must be a hothouse.
    “Oh, this is heaven,” she said as she sank down on the huge four-poster bed in delight. It billowed beneath her with the feathers of what seemed like a thousand geese. It was doubtful that she would ever sleep in a more comfortable bed.
    S he changed into her simple cotton nightdress, blew out the lights, and climbed into the luxurious bed. A sigh of pure pleasure escaped her mouth. Tomorrow would be time enough to worry about the future. For tonight, she was too tired to care.
     
    * * *
     
    Joseph had informed Nico of Mrs. Blake’s return but he made no effort to greet her on arrival. He’d been regretting his decision to be a part of this foolish endeavor. Now, nearly an hour later, he was still distracted by the thought of her sleeping in a room in his house. He wondered what she wore to sleep in. She didn’t at all seem like a silk sort of girl. He smiled, imagining flannel or cotton. Something white and simple that would cling to her upturned breasts…
    With a groan, he tried to push the image out of his mind. How on earth was he going to get anything done in the next few weeks, if he couldn’t concentrate for thoughts of her?
    Deciding that it was hopeless, at least for tonight, he stood and rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the kinks of sitting for so long at a stretch, bent over microscopes. He wasn’t as young as he’d once been, that’s for certain.
    With a frown, he wondered inanely how old Mrs. Blake was. Not terribly young, for she’d been married, but far younger than his own thirty-five years. Earlier, he’d been certain his attraction to her was returned, but he often grew melancholy at night, and as he made his way down to his bedroom, he wondered if she simply saw him as an old man. Someone to mentor her and help her,