Back from washing the stopper again, she gasped.
She could smell it in here. Heavy, sexual, intoxicating.
Incriminating. She rushed to open the window, then lit the candle on his desk, shaking her head and blowing it out again after just a few seconds.
She locked the door and hurried upstairs.
Halfway up she turned, releasing her breath in an annoyed huff. She was too flustered even to roll her eyes at herself as she rushed back downstairs to replace the stopper.
Finally in her bed, she waited for her heart to return to its normal rate. It felt for all the world like she was sneaking around. As if she would be caught in the corridors late at night.
She scoffed mentally. Oh, Els. Who's going to catch you?
In the darkness, she bit back a grin at the thought. She was in charge here. Alone. Oh, Mr Branson and Lady Edith were here as well, but that didn't count. Not really.
He's not here.
And for the moment, she was glad of it.
She didn't have time to get to his pantry until after breakfast. When she opened the door, she was relieved to find that that scent was gone.
Only two months left, she noted as she looked at the calendar.
She looked up with a start. It had become their custom to talk on the telephone each year, halfway through the Season.
God help me.