Claire Dane’s POV
The Anderson house doesn’t feel like a home. Bedrooms occupy the second floor, and the third floor- surprise to me- is the live-in staff quarters. I was told by a maid that Mrs. Anderson liked tradition. Tradition meant that the top floor in the good old days was for staff, who were never to be seen or heard.
When Jeremy brought me upstairs yesterday, the words came out simply, neutrally. “And which room shall I stay in?” I hoped he did not think I would stay in his room- even though a small part of me wanted to. I was still too scared to actually do it.
He didn’t hesitate. Just turned, with a smile, and walked two doors down from his own, and opened it for me, gesturing for me to enter, along with a maid.
Daniel’s room sits between ours. Intentional. Protective. The
