The squire had been busy at his desk when Alec arrived for his interview. Clive set down his pen and looked up: his eyes widened on seeing the candidate. He reddened, lowered his gaze, pretended to reread the recommendation. Alec knew immediately; his knowledge was confirmed within his first month on the job. Simcox, the valet, filled Alec in on the gossip: Hadn’t one of the maids walked in on the squire, two years ago, before he was married, while he was caressing his friend from Cambridge, the fellow with the dashing black hair, in a most affectionate manner in the bedroom adjoining his own?
