The Ace: His undercover Maid

They play what?

*Daisy*

The call to rise comes far too early for me. I managed to sneak out and hide behind some bushes on the front lawn, where the chill of the night air caused me to shiver and my teeth to clatter. All for naught. When the she-wolf finally emerged, Ace was beside her, positioned in such a way that his broad shoulders and bent head as he spoke to her made it impossible for me to get a good look at his guest's features.

While I am aching and sore from last night's stalking and having a difficult time understanding why anyone goes hunting and voluntarily subjects themselves to such torment, I know I'll remain in this employ for at least another week.

After the morning meeting with Perkins, I trudge up the stairs behind Sarah, dreading another morning of dusting and polishing. Truly, how much dust could have accumulated since the day before? And apparently, all the lilies need to be done away with and replaced with peonies because supposedly they are Luna Duckling's favorite.

The she-wolf, apparently a new addition to his harem, is coming this evening. She hasn't been inscribed in his appointment diary, but I assume he hasn't had an opportunity to scribble in her name or whatever word he'd use to notate her. I'm half-tempted to sneak into the library when he isn't around to see what moniker he'll come up with for the luna. I don't much like that I wonder what term he might use to describe me.

I gather up half the lilies when I hear the click of his door opening and duck into the nearby bedchamber, like a coward, because I don't want to see how he looks after a night of debauchery. I also fear that a reminder of what I witnessed might cause me to blush uncontrollably, and I have no desire for him to know he has any effect on me at all. His footfalls fade away as he descends the stairs.

Carrying my basket of supplies, fresh linens stacked atop it, Sarah wanders by and then backs up and peers into the room. "What are you doing in there?"

"I clean, but try not to be seen?"

The chambermaid purses her lips and rolls her eyes, and I hope she doesn't discern the true reason for my hiding. "He's left his bedchamber, so we need to get to it. Set those down, and we'll finish up with the flowers later. Come on then."

I want to finish with the blossoms now, not see his chamber in whatever disarray he's left it after cavorting about, but as the newest member of the staff, I have no say in what I'm supposed to do. Therefore, I set the lilies aside and follow Sarah into his private domain.

My gaze immediately jumps to the bed. I expected tangled sheets. But the arrangement of the covers is no wilder than mine upon first awakening. One pillow has an indention in it, no doubt where he rested his head. The other looks untouched. Did the she-wolf place her head on his chest? Did she fall asleep there before he escorted her home?

The room smells rather fresh. I can detect his bergamot and orange scent mixed with a lighter fragrance of lavender, his female friend's perfume. I expected a darker aroma, one generated by entangled bodies lost to the throes of passion.

Sarah begins stripping the bed. "Will you see to the table?"

I turn. The table that was against a wall last night has been moved, so it's now situated between the settee and a wingback chair. The tray is off to the side, devoid of food, but scattered over the fine woodgrain of the table are cards. They befuddle me.

"What are you staring at?" Sarah asks.

"I wasn't expecting playing cards."

"Usually, there are some on the table the morning after he's had company. Cook reckons they play a naughty game. Like whoever loses a round has to maybe reveal a secret or remove a bit of clothing."

"Considering how many layers a luna wears, that could take all night," I comment. It hardly seems fair to him when he's outfitted in so little. He'd be nude long before his company, although perhaps he doesn't mind strutting about stark naked. He hasn't bothered refastening his buttons when I walked in.

Sarah shrugs. "Builds up the anticipation, Cook told me. Don't want to get at things too quickly. Have you ever had a man?"

Feeling myself blush at such an intimate question, I shake my head. "No. Have you?"

"No. I was raised to be a good girl. But I rather fancy Tom, and sometimes I get all warm and tingly just looking at him."

"He is rather handsome."

Sarah furrows her brow. "Do you fancy him, then?"

"Oh, no. He doesn't make me grow warm in the least." Not even when I squeezed his upper arm. It could have been testing the ripeness of a melon for all the joy it gave me. Ace, on the other hand...

Why would I have to be enamored of a scapegrace? Possibly it's because he's a scapegrace that he appeals to me. Perhaps I'm like my mother, falling for the wrong sort of man, someone who would lead me to ruin. I don't want to be like the she-wolf who gave birth to me, but rather I yearn to be like the one who raised me. Goddess-fearing, law-abiding, boring.

Although being an inquiry agent certainly isn't boring. Conceivably that's one of the reasons I've chosen this path. However, when it comes to men, the duller the better.

Ace is anything but mind-numbing. Yet, we took time to engage in a mundane activity. "Does he play cards with all the she-wolves?"

Again, Sarah shrugs her slender shoulders. "It's usually chess with Luna Bowles. She's his Wednesday appointment." Blue-Eyes. "Then he played backgammon with one of them last year. Cribbage board has been out a time or two." She points toward a credenza where several decanters rest. "Store the cards in there."

While Sarah goes back to taking care of the bed, I stack the cards before placing them in the hinged gold filigree case placed next to the tray. I carry it over to the small cupboard, pull open the door, and am astonished to see several card cases as well as a variety of larger wooden boxes, some with gilt lettering visible on the side to identify them as various games. Are they all part of his seduction? I can't imagine he needs anything other than himself. Then I chastise myself for the thought.

Somehow, he's managed to capture my interest, and more than just as the dastardly man leading women to ruin. I want him to fill his residence with my favorite flower. I want him to serve up my favorite sweet. I want him to engage me in a strategic game that I will lose, but in the losing, I will win. Because my clothes will be pooled at his feet and from there...

My head grows light, and I sway, nearly toppling into the neatly stacked games. With a measure of shame, I realize I've stopped breathing, as though waiting in anticipation for everything I've been imagining to occur. The she-wolf last night didn't look in need of smelling salts. But how could she not when she was cradled on his lap, her fingers so close to that bare skin and those fine hairs?

"Are you ill?" Sarah is suddenly at my side, her brow furrowed so deeply she'll no doubt have permanent wrinkles when she finally relaxes it.

"I simply lost my balance for a minute," I assure her, forcing myself to stand straight. I'm glad the explanation is enough to ease the concern in the chambermaid's eyes. "Honestly, I'm fine. I'll tend to cleaning out the fireplace."

As I begin the task, I give myself a stern lecture. I need to keep my wits about me if I have any hope of being successful and providing my most recent client with all he requires and expects. Even if it means dragging Ace through the mud.