Free Code of Honor (Australian Destiny Book #1) by Sandra Dengler

hock.”
    “Just ask, aye? There’s a good girl!”
    “Perhaps, on the morrow or sometime when the mood seems right.”
    “He’s still up now, ye know. Ye could ask him now.”
    “Ye’re in a blooming hurry.”
    Meg popped to her feet. “’Tis important, Sam, please? G’night.” She blew Samantha a kiss and bounced out the door.
    Samantha sighed as she wiped off her pen nib. Why? Why did she not simply say a firm no when Meg or someone came up with something like this? Mr. Sloan told her to spy on the hired help and now the hired help was seeking her collusion. She hated this sort of intrigue. So why was she standing up and taking off her apron? Besides …
    Why should Meg think that she had a stronger “in” with the master of the house? Why didn’t Meg ask Linnet? She and Linnet were much closer companions. Because Mr. Sloan was not particularly well pleased with Linnet’s frequent failure to get all her chores done in a day, that was why.
    And was Mr. Sloan satisfied with Sam’s work? Seemed so. That pleased her in a warm, funny little way. She always took pride in her work, always did the best she could, but this was somehow different. She enjoyed immensely pleasing Mr. Sloan.
    She walked slowly down the dark stuffy hall, listening. Mr. Sloan had more or less tacked his office onto his house. The L-shaped house, almost a bungalow, sprawled out ever so casually, with lots of windows and airy light. The kitchen and servants’ rooms comprised the back leg of the L and the house proper—parlor, dining room, Mr. Sloan’s private rooms—formed the front leg. Making the L into a lop-sided U, the office stuck itself to the back of the far end.
    The only light in the dark corridors was the yellow line below his office door. Dare she? She got within two steps of the door before she came to her senses. Of course she dare not! Let Margaret sound out her employer herself. Samantha was neither above nor below Meg and certainly not her sister’s keeper. Meg had indentured herself—Samantha had nothing to do with that—and now Meg could handle her own affairs. What could she have been thinking of?
    Someone was knocking on the door out front. Samantha frowned. She seemed to be the only servant out and about; funny how the new housemaid disappeared so conveniently. She hurried back the hall and out through the parlor to answer it.
    The man was no more than a black shadow under the porch roof. Samantha could not make out his features. “John Butts to see Mr. Sloan, please.”
    “Come in.” Samantha led the shadow through the foyer into the parlor. “I’ll see if he’s receiving guests, sir.” She curtseyed and walked smartly back to the office door. She should have provided Mr. Butts with a light; why did she not at least light the little electric lamp by the window?
    She rapped at the door and pushed it open cautiously.
    Mr. Sloan sat in his big chair with arms and legs draped at casual angles to each other. His sprawl reminded Samantha of Papa back home and her heart pinched just a bit. Papers alone and in stacks cluttered the floor in a broad circle around him.
    “Mr. Sloan, sir, John Butts to see ye.”
    “Bring him through and serve us tea.”
    “Aye, sir.” As she turned away, from the corner of her eye she saw him leaning down to tidy up his papers. When she returned with Mr. Butts, though, he had ordered only a little of the worst of the mess.
    He stood up and offered his hand. “John, been a long time.”
    She left them. The coals were still warm, the water still hot. She didn’t need long to bring the kettle up to boiling. She had served the Fortnum and Mason black pekoe, Mr. Sloan’s favorite, at dinner. Tonight she’d prepare a pot of the Murchie’s Queen Victoria blend. Perhaps there would be some left after Mr. Butts departed, and Queen Victoria was her own favorite.
    When she entered the office with her tray, John Butts had made himself at home. The leather-covered chair had been pushed