Yours Until Dawn Read Online Free PDF Page A

would have, when her foot slammed into an overturned pier table. Letting out an infuriated yelp, she hopped up and down on one foot, massaging her throbbing toes through the scuffed leather of her boots. If she had been wearing kid slippers, the blow probably would have broken them.
    Eyeing the slivers of sunlight fighting to penetrate the smothering weight of the velvet drapes, Samantha rested her hands on her hips. Gabriel might choose to entomb himself in this mausoleum, but she most certainly did not.
    Catching a flash of white out of the corner of her eye, she whirled around to discover a mobcapped maid tiptoeing past the door.
    Samantha called after her, “Girl! You there!”
    The maid stopped and slowly turned, her reluctance palpable. “Yes, miss?”
    “Come here, please. I need your help to get these drapes open.” Grunting with effort, Samantha shoved a fat brocaded ottoman toward the window.
    Instead of rushing to assist her, the maid began to back away, wringing her pale, freckled hands and shaking her head in dismay. “I don’t dare, miss. What would the master say?”
    “He might say you were doing your job,” Samantha ventured, clambering up on top of the ottoman.
    Growing impatient with the maid’s dallying, she reached up, grabbed two fistfuls of curtain, and yanked with all of her might. Instead of gliding open, the drapes tore right out of their moorings. They billowed down in a choking cloud of velvet and dust, making Samantha sneeze.
    Sunlight came streaming through the floor-to-ceiling French windows, weaving the dust motes into sparkling fairy glamour.
    “Oh, miss, you shouldn’t have!” the maid cried, blinking like some forest creature that had been living underground for a very long time. “I’m going to fetch Mrs. Philpot right away!”
    Swiping her hands on her skirt, Samantha hopped off the ottoman and surveyed her handiwork with satisfaction. “Why don’t you do just that? I’d like nothing better than to have a little chat with the dear woman.”
    With one last inarticulate cry, the wild-eyed girl went dashing from the room.
     
    When Mrs. Philpot came sailing into the drawing room a short while later, it was to find the earl’s new nurse balanced precariously on the seat of a delicate Louis XIV chair. The housekeeper could only look on in horror as Samantha gave the drapes she was holding a fierce tug. They collapsed on her head, burying her in a cloud of emerald green velvet.
    “Miss Wickersham!” Mrs. Philpot exclaimed, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the blinding sunshine that came streaming through the French windows. “What is the meaning of this?”
    Climbing down from her perch, Samantha batted away the heavy folds of fabric. Following the housekeeper’s scandalized gaze, she gave the pile of drapes heaped in the center of the floor an apologetic nod. “I was only going to open them, but after I saw all the dust, I realized they could use a good airing out as well.”
    Resting her hand on the ring of keys at her waist as if it were the pommel of a sword, Mrs. Philpot drew herself up. “ I am the head housekeeper at Fairchild Park. You are the master’s nurse. Airing things out is hardly within the jurisdiction of your duties.”
    Eyeing the woman warily, Samantha unlatched the window and shoved it open. A gentle breeze, scented with lilac, wafted into the room. “Perhaps not. But the well-being of my patient is. Light might be lost to your master, but there’s no reason fresh air should be. Clearing out his lungs might just improve his condition…and his disposition.”
    For a moment, Mrs. Philpot looked almost intrigued.
    Encouraged by her hesitation, Samantha began to circle the room, enthusiastically pantomiming her plans. “First, I thought we’d have the maids sweep up all the glass while the footmen cart away the broken furniture. Then, after we’ve stored away the breakables, we could shove the heavy furniture against the walls, clearing a path