Dreams of Desire by Cheryl Holt

countess’s suite, and clearly, Barbara was ensconced in it.
    “What are you doing in here?” Esther huffed.
    “This is my room. What are you doing in here?”
    Barbara pointed toward the hall, indicating that Esther should depart, but Esther regrouped, pulling herself up, straightening her spine.
    “Get out. At once!” Esther commanded.
    “I don’t take orders from you, Esther.”
    Barbara gestured to the servants, and like ants in a line, they spun and left with Esther’s trunks.
    “Bring those back!” Esther bellowed, but no one heeded her. At having her authority so blatantly flaunted, she was aghast. “You won’t get away with this,” Esther warned.
    “I believe I already have.”
    “I’ll speak to John. He’ll have you out of here like that!”
    Esther snapped her fingers, but the click didn’t sound, so the drama of the moment was foiled.
    “You’ll speak to John?” Barbara was disdainful, condescending. “Why would you? He gave me the suite himself.”
    “But it’s . . . it’s the countess’s! He wouldn’t have! He didn’t!”
    “He did. Good luck with changing his mind. You’re aware of how stubborn he can be.”
    Esther was so furious that her entire body was shaking, but she didn’t know what to do with all her rage. She’d never been the sharpest tack in the shed, and obviously, she’d gained no intellect in the intervening decades.
    “I . . . I hate you,” Esther hurled. “I’ve always hated you!”
    “Sticks and stones, Esther. Sticks and stones.” Barbara made a shooing motion with her hand, urging Esther out. “Now please go. I’m needed downstairs to greet John’s guests, and I’m not dressed.”
    Esther hovered for a few seconds, then she whirled away and raced out.
    “John! John!” she screeched, her voice echoing to the rafters.
    Barbara grinned.
    John would never intervene on Esther’s behalf. In that regard, he was too much like his father, who had loathed discord and wouldn’t tolerate it. Especially from a hysterical female.
    The boudoir was hers. The first battle was won. Supper—and playing hostess to John’s company—would be next. She would keep ingratiating herself until he realized he couldn’t manage without her.
    “One day at a time, Barbara,” she murmured to herself. “One day at a time.”

Chapter 7

    LILY tiptoed down the dark corridor, the flame from her candle flickering on the walls, making the shadows large and menacing. It was very late, everyone asleep, but in the parlor up ahead, a lamp burned. Anxious for company, she rushed toward it.
    While she wasn’t usually timid, the nocturnal sounds of the old castle were disconcerting. She’d awakened with a start, convinced that someone was in her bedchamber. Not a person, specifically, but there’d been a definite presence , accompanied by groaning noises and a chain rattling.
    Her heart pounding, she’d actually whispered, “Who is it? Who’s there?”
    Of course, there’d been no answer, but she’d been spooked beyond all reason. She’d grabbed her robe and fled to the lower floors.
    With no small amount of relief, she entered a cozy salon. A fire crackled in the grate, a comfortable couch positioned in front of it, but the room appeared to be empty. She took a hesitant step inside, then another.
    “Is anybody here?” she tentatively murmured.
    There was no reply, and she stopped, listening and hearing heavy breathing, which scared her out of her wits.
    Suddenly, the door slammed with a bang, and a male voice shouted, “Boo!”
    “Ah!” she shrieked, and she whipped around to find Lord Penworth lurking behind her.
    He laughed and laughed until he was bent over with jollity.
    “What is so funny?” she snapped.
    “You. Oh, if you could have seen the look on your face. It was priceless.”
    He swiped a hand across his eyes, wiping away tears of merriment as he collapsed into a chair.
    Apparently he’d been sitting in the corner, drinking, and watching her as she’d