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“While
     you are her guest, whatever you desire is yours.”
    Before I could answer, he withdrew his hand and gently closed and latched the door,
     then climbed into the driver’s seat and started the motorcar. He said nothing further,
     but instead concentrated on steering along the narrow, rutted road.
    Yet, as I sat in the backseat, studying the broad sweep of his shoulders before me
     and the delightful way the manly sweat had dampened his blond curls around the rim
     of his cap, I had no doubt that if I asked him to stop the vehicle and continue what
     he’d begun, he would oblige.
    I couldn’t deny that I was tempted. I knew other ladies who dallied with their male
     servants, confessing in breathless whispers as they compared the prowess of the French
     gardener at the Newport cottage, or the groom who looked after the ponies at the lodge
     in the Adirondacks. I had only listened, with no tales of my own to confess.
    To be sure, there hadn’t been any handsome young men among my own servants who might
     have tempted me—both Father and Arthur had made sure of that—but it was also a matter
     of being the mistress. Commanding a servant to perform held little appeal for me,
     and in my eyes such obedience seemed to diminish the men.
    There would be no challenge to that, and ultimately little satisfaction. As handsome
     as he was, it would be nothing more than an empty coupling without true passion. I
     wished instead for a man who was not intimidated by my fortune or position, but who
     would see me only as a desirable woman, not a wealthy one.
    It could never be like that with the burly Simon, so I decided that for now I would
     decline a taste of what he was offering, and keep my sights set on Lord Savage. Still,
     the very fact that Lady Carleigh had offered me the chauffeur for more than transportation
     was an excellent omen for the week, and I could scarcely contain my excitement.
    Before long we reached the estate. We entered beneath an ancient arch that served
     as the gate and passed through a small forest and lush green fields before, at last,
     the house itself came into view beyond a lake that shimmered in the late-afternoon
     sun.
    Whatever notorious reputation Wrenton Manor had acquired over the centuries, it remained
     breathtakingly beautiful. I was accustomed to enormous estates, but the ancient titles
     and blue blood that bolstered English manor houses like this one put them on a level
     of magnificence that no American oil and railroads could ever achieve.
    The old Elizabethan house at Wrenton had been much enlarged in the last century, and
     made over into an elaborate brick-and-stone tribute to a medieval castle—albeit a
     medieval castle with all the most modern conveniences. The house bristled with stone
     crockets and gargoyles, and from the center of the house rose a tall tower that dominated
     the surrounding landscape.
    At the very top flew a large red-and-yellow flag featuring the stags of the viscount’s
     crest to show he was in residence. The rampant, flagrant maleness of the stags reminded
     me of Lord Savage, and as I gazed up at the bold red flag, I could think of no better
     symbol of the week ahead.
    I was shown to rooms that were handsomely appointed, with white and gold-trimmed furnishings
     and pink-and-green scrolled wallpaper. Because it was a corner room, there were tall
     windows on two sides with splendid views of the rolling countryside.
    As was the custom for house parties, whether in Britain or America, I wouldn’t meet
     the rest of the guests or my host and hostess until they gathered to dine later that
     evening. I’d at least two hours to amuse myself.
    To pass the time, I decided upon a leisurely bath, dreaming of Lord Savage, while
     the lady’s maid assigned to me unpacked my luggage.
    The maid was named Simpson, and, much like the two male servants I had met earlier,
     she had clearly been hired as much for her youth and beauty as for her skill at