Winterberry Fire: A Silver Foxes of Westminster Novella (Winterberry Park Book 2)(2)

And yet, despite all that work, there would be more time in the upcoming weeks for rest. The Croydons wouldn’t be back until summer, and without grand dinners to plan and prepare, the staff would have more time for their own pursuits. Which meant they’d be able to participate in activities in town for a change. Like the upcoming Valentine’s Day dance.

Ada sighed and smiled to herself as she unhooked the curtains in the morning parlor and brought them down from their rods to be washed. She’d been looking forward to the dance ever since she heard about it, just after Christmas. Dances were the perfect place to start a romance. And as much as she resented it, Mary was right. She was sweet on Tim Turnbridge. Tim was good and kind. He was handsome in a way that was so much more refined than the working-class men and farmers she’d been around most of her life. Rumor had it that he was actually the son of a nobleman, but that he’d had a falling out with his family when he’d told them he wanted to open his own school to educate village children. Whether that was true or not, Ada adored the fact that he was so dedicated, even if his school now had so many children in it that he couldn’t always keep order. She’d helped out on the rare occasions that her duties at Winterberry Park had let her, but more than anything, she was grateful that Tim had let her come to the school at night to learn. Reading had opened whole new worlds to her.

“Look at her,” Mary’s derisive voice popped the bubble of Ada’s happy thoughts. “Dreaming away while covered in curtain dust.”

“We all have to dream,” Ada insisted, folding the curtain and taking it to the pile that would be washed that afternoon.

“She’s dreaming of that milksop teacher,” Martha said.

The sisters were carrying buckets of steaming water and rags to wash the windows as Ada took the curtains down. In spite of the work, with their sleeves rolled up and their backs no longer ramrod straight in case the Croydons saw them, they were the picture of insolence and informality.

“Tim is not a milksop,” Ada insisted, walking back to the ladder she had set up against one window to fetch another curtain. “He’s sophisticated.”

“Ooh!” Mary and Martha intoned together, making fun of her.

“Sophisticated,” Martha said.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Mary added.

Ada let out a breath and shook her head as she climbed the ladder to unhook the next curtain. She shouldn’t let the sisters get under her skin. They were just two rotten apples, not the whole barrel. All the same, she would have given her eye teeth to find a way to get back at the two of them for the way they’d treated Ruby.

Unfortunately, it was clear that they held a grudge against her for sticking up for Ruby and trying to discredit them.

“I wonder what Timmy-Tim-Tim would do if faced with a real woman,” Mary said, plumping her ample bosom and shooting Ada a look.

“I think he’d run screaming,” Martha snorted.

“And I think he’d unman himself within seconds,” Mary said. “He’d be begging for it on his knees.”

“He’d do no such thing,” Ada growled, scolding herself for listening to them.

“How would you know?” Martha called to her from across the room, where she and Mary had started on the windows. “Have you ever tried anything with him?”

Ada kept her mouth shut. She knew they were either trying to upset her or get information from her, and, either way, she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. But she had tried to subtly catch Tim’s fancy before, only with mixed results. Perhaps she’d been too subtle. Perhaps a stronger approach was needed.

As if summoned by her thoughts, as she brought the curtain down the ladder, she glanced out the window and saw Tim strolling up the drive. Her heart caught in her throat, and a warm blush spread across her cheeks.

“I’m just going to take this load downstairs,” she said in a rush, crossing the room to gather an armful of heavy curtains.

“Aren’t Tad and the other footmen going to take those down?” Martha asked.

Ada barely heard her. She was already at the door, rushing into the hall. She left the load of heavy curtains inside the doorway before pushing open the huge front door and stepping onto the front stairs just as Tim arrived.

“Oh.” He stopped suddenly and blinked when he saw her. A fond grin spread across his handsome face. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I spotted you coming up the lane,” Ada said with a conspiratorial wink. “I thought if I got here first, I might be able to talk to you.”

Tim’s smile widened. “Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

Ada’s heart fluttered, and her fingers went numb. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Not one word made it to her lips. Her mind was a blank. All she wanted to do was look at Tim, how handsome he was, tall and dark, with a fine suit and fetching bowler hat. How his eyes sparkled with knowledge and goodness. How his lips were perfect for kissing, even though she would never dare.

“Ada?”

She gasped, realizing too late she’d been staring. “The Croydons have gone to London,” she blurted. It wasn’t at all what she’d wanted to say, and she flinched, blinking rapidly at her stupidity.

“Ah.” Tim nodded, his smile even wider. “I suppose that explains why James didn’t come to hear about the next concert we’ll be giving.” He paused, his smile a little unfocused as he gazed at her, as if his thoughts too were scattered. “He does like to sing,” Tim went on. “James, that is.”