Chapter 11: Ada's POV

Ada's POV

I went to the one person in the pack house who had never lied to me.

She was the housekeeper, and she had known my mother.

She stood at the big kitchen range at six in the morning, stirring a pot of oats.

"You look thin," she said, without turning.

"I'm eating."

"Sit."

I sat at the end of the long table with a bowl in front of me.

She put a spoon in my hand.

"Eat first," she said.

I ate.

When the bowl was empty I said, "How many women has Lucan brought to the villa in five years?"

She was quiet for a long time.

"You know I don't gossip."

"I'm asking anyway."

She set down her spoon.

"None," she said. "Not one. Not for a dinner, not for a drink. The Deverell girl wrote him every month and he answered every third letter."

"He had a life before me."

"Before you he had a few. Not after." She looked at me at last. "Four years, Ada. The only door that man ever knocked on was yours."

I sat very still.

I had always told myself that I was one of many.

It was the only way I could keep going back.

If I was one of many, then I had never been wronged.

I was just a convenience, and a convenience can't be hurt.

"You're sure?" I said.

"I wash his sheets."

I almost laughed.

Then I took out my phone and showed her the photo of the receipt.

"Do you know what this is?"

All the colour went out of her face.

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