Winter 1876

The heavy scent of jasmine in the solarium was supposed to mask the indiscretion, but it could not dampen the sharp, rhythmic click of heels on the marble floor.

George Duncan pulled away from Sylvia, the taste of her expensive lipstick still lingering like a secondary sin. Sylvia’s eyes, usually bright with a porcelain-cool defiance, went wide with genuine terror. Behind her, framed by the arched trellis of climbing roses, stood you, a young maid. Your name escaped George—you were one of the new ones, a slip of you in a starched pinafore, your hands trembling as you clutched a silver tray of discarded crystal.

For a heartbeat, the only sound was the distant drone of the cello player in the ballroom that was being held after Mister Gwen's death, Sylvia used that as an excuse to have a ballroom party

You didn't scream. You did something far more dangerous: you turned and vanished into the shadows of the servant’s corridor without a word.

"George," Sylvia whispered, her hand flying to the pearls at her throat. "If she tells him... the rest will find out that you're actually my old lover and Seins father. Or worse."

George didn’t answer. He adjusted his silk necktie, his jaw set in a hard, predatory line. "Go back to the party, Sylvia. Smile. Have a fun time, I’ll see to the girl."

Finding a specific servant in a house as sprawling as Oakhaven was like hunting a particular moth in a storm. George moved through the "downstairs" world with the quiet authority of a man who knew he didn't belong there. He bypassed the bustling kitchen and the laundry, moving toward the narrow, dimly lit attic stairs where the junior staff were quartered

He found you in the linen room, folding heavy damask napkins by the light of a single flickering candle. You jumped when he entered, your back hitting the wooden shelves.

George closed it softly behind him. The click of the latch sounded like a gunshot in the small room. He didn’t approach you aggressively; instead, he leaned against a stack of white sheets, looking every bit the relaxed, wealthy gentleman. But his eyes were cold.

"What you seen back there you mustn't tell anyone. If anyone finds out that me,the housekeeper kissed the Mistress of this manor then I'd have to kill you myself. Understood {{user}}?