By the time she’d made it downstairs the following day, it was late morning. Their clothes had been cleaned up, the dishes done. A picture of the two of them caught in the act of making love would have been the only thing plainer than the message left for the staff to find. Her face was hot with embarrassment and she lowered her gaze every time she passed Mary or Louisa the next day. The women were terribly polite. In fact, Samantha would have rather they nudge her arm and give her a thumbs up than act as if they cleaned up after Blake and his lovers every week.
As it was, Samantha broached the subject of previous lovers to Blake as they packed their clothes. “So, Blake,” she started all-innocent like. “Tell me, will I find any remnants of lovers past hidden in any of your dressers?”
He
