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From Governess to Society Bride
Helen Dickson


The Lord’s convenient wife Lord Lucas Stainton is in need of a governess. The man is ruthless, rude beyond belief, and Eve Brody wishes him to the devil…but the position is hers if she’ll accept. As sparks fly between her and the magnificent man of the house, Eve learns that, shockingly, the dark-hearted Lord is carrying the weight of ruin on his broad shoulders.Desperately craving the security she’s never had, Eve offers a proposal – in return for her secret fortune, she asks only that he take her hand in marriage…







‘I have a proposition to put to you, Lord Stainton, that may benefit both of us.’

‘Mrs Brody, the last time you had a proposition to put to me it was to apply for the position of nursemaid to my children. What is it this time?’

‘Well—I—I would like to ask you—in all humility—to marry me.’

‘What?’ He was incredulous. The startling pale blue eyes swept over her face. ‘Mrs Brody, I think you must have taken leave of your senses.’

Eve straightened up and walked towards him. ‘Please have the good sense to take me seriously.’

‘I do,’ he ground out, angry now, and insulted. ‘And the answer is no.’ It was an instant response. Unconsidered. Automatic.

Eve met his eyes. This man was sharp, intelligent, and he was observant. ‘The marriage would merely be a business arrangement. You need someone to look after your children and financing. I need a home for myself and my daughter. It will be a marriage in name only—an affair of convenience.’

Lucas gazed at her unblinkingly—a sudden interest seemed to appear in his eyes, and then it was gone.


Helen Dickson was born and still lives in South Yorkshire, with her husband, on a busy arable farm, where she combines writing with keeping a chaotic farmhouse. An incurable romantic, she writes for pleasure, owing much of her inspiration to the beauty of the surrounding countryside. She enjoys reading and music. History has always captivated her, and she likes travel and visiting ancient buildings.

Recent novels by the same author:

THE PIRATE’S DAUGHTER

BELHAVEN BRIDE

THE EARL AND THE PICKPOCKET

HIS REBEL BRIDE

THE DEFIANT DEBUTANTE

ROGUE’S WIDOW, GENTLEMAN’S WIFE

TRAITOR OR TEMPTRESS

A SCOUNDREL OF CONSEQUENCE

WICKED PLEASURES

(part of Christmas By Candlelight)

FORBIDDEN LORD

SCANDALOUS SECRET, DEFIANT BRIDE




FROM GOVERNESS TO SOCIETY BRIDE


Helen Dickson




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)



FROM GOVERNESS TO SOCIETY BRIDE


Chapter One

1820

The young woman paused to look around. It was early morning and most people were still abed. There was not a sound in this great London park, shrouded in the kind of thick fog the city was famous for. It was as if she were alone in the world. This was the time of day she loved best.

But then, somewhere in the distance, she could hear the pounding of a horse’s hooves. She could almost feel the ground tremble beneath her feet. She resented the sound, that anyone should disturb her solitude. Turning full circle, she strained her eyes, listening to the thundering crash coming ever closer, when suddenly a sharp shout rent the air and a huge black shape of a horse and rider descended on her.

She cried out for him to stop and threw herself to one side, landing on the grass in a tumbled heap. The rider jerked at the reins and the beast reared, its hooves flashing like quicksilver, its coat glistening as the muscles beneath it rolled and heaved. Flared nostrils and blazing eyes gave him the look of a demented dragon. It missed her by mere inches.

The woman saw the man as if through a long tunnel. A small cry came from her throat as she saw the black apparition swing himself from his mount in one quick, effortless bound. With his cloak flying wide behind him he resembled a huge bat swooping down toward her. Seized by terror, she scrambled to her feet; brushing down her skirts she glared at him, her heart pounding fit to burst.

‘You damned fool,’ he roared. ‘What the hell are you doing on the track? I could have killed you.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ she retorted sharply, setting to rights her bonnet, which had been knocked sideways, and trying to smooth away the mixture of terror and anger that had taken hold of her. He was so tall she was forced to look up at him, and she found herself confronting pale, snapping eyes. Black hair accentuated lean cheekbones and a resolute jaw, and his mouth was compressed into a stern arrogant line.

‘If you had been any closer you could have been trampled to death. Is there no room in that brainless skull of yours for common sense?’

‘Why, how dare you?’ She was incensed, her face pink with indignation. ‘And will you please not wave your crop about like that as if you were going to thrash me.’

The stranger slapped the offending weapon to his side without relinquishing her eyes. ‘I am sorely tempted. Don’t you know not to walk on the track? It’s for horses, not ladies to stroll on.’

She raised her chin belligerently. ‘I do know that, but I didn’t think anyone would be foolish enough to be out riding with the fog as bad as this. And I was only following the track so that I wouldn’t become lost.’

‘Which is a dangerous thing to do at the best of times.’ Abruptly the man interrupted his tirade to say with a touch of concern as a thought occurred to him, ‘Are you hurt?’

She glowered at him accusingly, her face showing no sign of softening. ‘No—no thanks to you. If you had been riding with more care and attention, this would never have happened—or perhaps your horse got the better of you and you haven’t taught it who is master.’

‘I assure you he knows who is his master.’ He looked at her closely, seeing a gloriously attractive young woman whose whole manner spoke of fearlessness, of her need to let him see that she was afraid of no one, and certainly not of him. Even if she had not jumped out of the way as she had done, he would not have run her down. He was too good a horseman for that, but it had been a close shave. He smiled lazily. ‘What a firebrand you are. Are you sure you stumbled and didn’t just swoon at the sight of me and my horse?’

His hollow chuckle held a note of mockery. A flush of anger spread to the delicate tips of the woman’s ears and icy fire smouldered in her deep blue eyes. ‘Why, you conceited, unmitigated cad. You are arrogant if you believe I would ever swoon at your feet. Thank God I’m not afflicted by such weakness.’ She stepped away from him, finding his closeness and the way he towered over her a little intimidating. ‘Good day to you, sir.’

Not yet ready to be dismissed, he touched her arm to delay her. ‘At least let me escort you to your home.’

Her chilled contempt met him face to face. She slapped his hand away. ‘Do not touch me. I am quite capable of taking myself home. Go away and take that vicious beast with you,’ she snapped, glancing irately at the black stallion that had begun to snort and stamp impatiently, its vigorous temperament reminding her so very much of its master.

‘Aren’t you taking a risk? You might be set upon by footpads or worse. Anything could happen to a young woman walking alone at this hour.’

‘It just did, and I’m of the opinion that I’m in less danger of being set upon by footpads than I am from you. At least they may have better manners.’ Turning her back on him, with her head held high she began to stalk away.

He sighed in feigned disappointment, slowly shaking his head. ‘Such ingratitude.’

She spun round. ‘Ingratitude?’ she gasped. ‘You call me ungrateful? You almost trample me to death and I am supposed to be grateful?’

His eyes gleamed with amusement. ‘Have it your way.’ He set his tall hat securely on his head and swung himself back in the saddle on his prancing beast. ‘Good day to you.’

He kicked his horse into motion. His laughter drifted back to her, his mockery infuriating her yet further. She stamped her foot and glared after him, muttering all kinds of threats under her breath. She had never met a man who had irritated her as he had just done and it chafed her sorely to consider his flawless success.

It was a glorious spring day. The sun had risen out of a broad expanse of opal mist, and scraps of cloud floated like spun gauze in the sky. Ash and sycamore, cherry and lilac trees were bursting into full flower, and trumpet-headed daffodils and clusters of primroses filled beds and borders. The air had a trace of freshness in it, a breeze blowing across Hyde Park from the river beyond. The park was quiet, save for a skylark singing high above and a few people taking an early morning constitutional, including a young woman walking aimlessly along the paths with two small girls trailing behind her.

Seated on a bench watching her five-year-old daughter, Estelle, running happily between the flower beds pursued by Jasper, a Labrador pup that was a recent addition to the Seagrove household, Eve sighed and looked down at her hands in her lap. Why did she feel so despondent? What was the matter with her? Why did her life seem to be so limited? She had her health. She had a good friend in Beth Seagrove. She was not unattractive and, thanks to her dear deceased father, eventually she would have more money than she would know what to do with. She was reasonably clever and had a broad base of interests. Everyone was always telling her how lucky she was to have Estelle, whom she adored. That should really be enough for anyone—but it wasn’t. There had to be more that she could do with her life, something else to absorb her time and energies.

Tonight she was to attend a private party at Lady Ellesmere’s house in Curzon Street. These affairs where most of the faces were familiar were more to her taste than the more established venues, and she really did enjoy attending them with Beth and her husband. However, Eve was determined to find something to do to earn her keep until her father’s money was made available to her and she could look for somewhere else to live.

Turning her head, she looked at the young woman with the children. She was perhaps eighteen or nineteen. Her clothes were of good quality, but plain grey and unadorned—the same clothes a nursemaid would wear. Her face was pale and dark rings circled her eyes—she really didn’t look at all well. She was seated on the bench adjacent to Eve’s and her head was lowered on to her chest. Her shaking shoulders indicated that she was weeping very quietly.

The two little girls, her young charges, stood in front of her and stared at her. Their faces showed confusion and they were clearly anxious and frightened. The youngest child picked up on her mood and started to cry and shrank into the girl next to her.

‘Don’t cry, Sarah,’ the eldest girl said to the woman on the bench. ‘It will be all right.’

Her words seemed to calm the young woman, not because she was able to believe them but because of the sweet unselfishness of the child uttering them. Raising her head, she smiled at the child but her shoulders remained drooped in dejection.

Eve stood up. Fishing a handkerchief out of her pocket, she went to the unhappy trio. ‘Can I be of help?’ she asked, directing the question at the woman while bending down and smiling at the weeping child. ‘Here, let me wipe your face.’ Gently she dabbed at the tears of the child, who was looking up at her with solemn light blue eyes that reminded her of a wounded puppy. ‘What are your names?’ she asked.

‘I am Sophie,’ the older girl replied politely, ‘and this is my sister Abigail. Abigail is three, nearly four, and I’m five.’

‘Is that so? Well, I’m pleased to meet you both,’ Eve said, thinking what pretty children they were. Both had heart-shaped faces and glossy dark brown curls and were dressed in identical blue dresses. Looking towards where Estelle was playing, Eve waved her over. ‘Estelle, while I sit and talk to…?’ She looked enquiringly at the young woman.

‘Sarah, Sarah Lacy,’ she provided quietly.

‘While I talk to Miss Lacy, why don’t you take Sophie and Abigail to play with Jasper—would you like that?’ she asked the two little girls. They nodded, looking shyly at Estelle, but not moving until Sarah had given them her permission.

‘It’s all right, children. You can go. I can see you from here.’

Typical of Estelle, who was accustomed to playing with Beth’s two boisterous boys, she held out her hand to Abigail, and the three of them chased over the grass after a staggering Jasper, who stopped suddenly and sat down in a heap of tumbled legs.

Smiling, Eve sat next to the young woman. The poor girl was obviously not well. Her skin was pale and her soft grey eyes had a wild, almost desperate look about them.

‘I hope you didn’t mind me suggesting that your charges play with my daughter. The puppy is quite harmless.’ The young woman shook her head. ‘My name is Eve Brody, by the way.’

‘No, I don’t mind. I’m their nursemaid. It’s good for them to be with other children. They so rarely are, poor mites.’ Lowering her head, she stifled a sob. ‘I’m sorry…’ she began, then broke off miserably.

‘It’s all right, Sarah,’ Eve said, moving closer to her. ‘Are you ill?’

Unable to meet the kind stranger’s eyes, Sarah looked down at her fingers twisting her handkerchief in her lap. ‘I’ve just got a bit of a headache, that’s all,’ she answered shyly.

‘Have you seen a doctor? Perhaps he can give you something that will help to make you feel better.’

Sarah shook her head and sniffed. ‘I’ll be all right. I feel better than I did.’

‘Then why are you crying? You look quite distraught.’

‘To tell you the truth, miss, I’ve been at my wits’ end these past weeks. I don’t know what to do. Really I don’t.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Mark, my young man, lives and works as head groomsman at a big house in Surrey. He’s asked me to marry him, but it would mean leaving my job—and the children.’

‘What’s so terrible about that? Surely there is someone else to care for them—their mother?’

‘They have no mother. My master, Lord Stainton, the children’s father, is in the middle of closing down the house, which is why I’m out with them so early—to get them away from the upheaval. Workmen are all over the place and his lordship isn’t in the best of tempers. Apart from myself and the housekeeper, most of the servants have been dismissed, and very soon we are to move to Lord Stainton’s country estate in Oxfordshire. I haven’t told Mark yet and I’m dreading it. He doesn’t understand, you see, the bond I have with the children.’

‘If your position means so much to you, then why doesn’t your young man go with you?’

‘Lord Stainton can’t afford to take on more staff. His lordship’s affairs really are in quite a bad way, which is why he has to sell his London house.’

‘Even so, his problem is not yours, Sarah. Lord Stainton must find someone else to look after his children. It shouldn’t be too difficult. I’m sure there are lots of young ladies with the right credentials who would jump at the chance.’

‘I know—but there has been so much heartache in their young lives that I hate the thought of deserting them. They’ve been in my charge since Abigail was a year old. I can’t bear to leave them. It will break my heart—and theirs—but I know I must.’

‘Your concern is commendable, Sarah, but you do have to think of yourself.’

Estelle’s laughter came to them from across the grass. Eve’s eyes were drawn towards the sound, seeing her daughter rolling on the grass with Jasper on top of her licking her face, while Sophie and Abigail looked on, reticent to join in, but smiling none the less. Concerned, she fixed her attention on the young woman by her side.

‘You really do look quite poorly. Perhaps you should go home and lie down for a while,’ Eve suggested.

Sarah shook her head. ‘That’s impossible, although I really should be getting back.’ She stood up, putting one hand to her head and the other grasping the back of the bench as she swayed slightly. ‘Oh, dear. I do feel quite dizzy.’

Standing up, Eve took her arm. ‘Come, I’ll walk back with you. I can’t let you go by yourself.’

‘Oh, no. You’ve been very kind, but I’ve imposed on your time long enough.’

‘I insist. Besides, I have nothing better to do. Where do you live?’

‘Not too far away, just across the park in Upper Brook Street.’

‘Then it is not far from Berkeley Street, which is where I live. Come, children,’ Eve called. ‘Estelle, you must carry Jasper.’ She smiled as she watched her daughter bend down and pick a wriggling Jasper up off the grass and tuck him beneath her arm.

Stainton House was certainly in a state of upheaval. Workmen swarmed about all over the place and furniture was being either covered with dustsheets or loaded on to wagons in the street. Holding the children’s hands, Eve and Sarah went inside. The size of the house surprised and impressed Eve. With its white-and-gold décor, she could well imagine how elegant it must have looked before the workforce moved in.

Eve was about to say her farewells to Sarah and the children when Jasper broke free of his captor and landed on the floor. Excited by the new environment and noise, the little dog bounded yelping loudly up the broad sweep of the staircase rising gracefully from the centre of the hall.

‘Don’t worry,’ Sarah said, having recovered a little from her earlier discomfort. ‘I’ll go after him.’

The three children went and sat halfway up the stairs, watching the workmen with rapt expressions on their faces. Eve stepped aside to let two men pass carrying a gold-and-green striped sofa in the direction of the street, and turned when a voice barked out, ‘Bloody hell, man, be careful! That portrait is worth a small fortune. Any damage and the buyer will refuse to take it.’

Eve strode over to the owner of the remark—a jacket-less, dark, forbidding figure, his grey breeches moulding his muscular legs and thighs, his white shirt open at his tanned throat, and his hair as black as a panther’s pelt. Her face was a mask of indignation.

‘Do you have to swear in front of the children?’ she remarked haughtily. She saw his shoulders stiffen at the sound of her voice and when he spun round and his eyes sliced over her, she could almost feel the effort he was exerting to keep his rage under control. The man had ramrod posture and an aura of exacting competence, and Eve almost collapsed when she saw his face—it was as hard and forbidding as a granite sculpture and he was looking at her as if she were a mad woman who had invaded his domain.

She also recognised him as being the man whose horse had almost trampled her to death the day before.

‘I’ll swear when I like in my own house…’ Suddenly he froze and his eyes widened. ‘Good Lord, it’s you—’

‘Unfortunately that is so. And do you have to shout? My hearing is perfectly sound and you’re frightening the children.’

‘Children? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m their father.’

‘Precisely, and for that reason alone you should have more control over your temper,’ Eve snapped, having recovered from the shock of meeting the rude and thoroughly obnoxious gentleman for a second time.

Lord Stainton turned his dagger gaze on the terrified servants, who had ceased what they were doing and stood frozen to the spot, their eyes agape. ‘Who the hell let this emotional woman into my house without consulting me first?’

‘I am not an emotional woman and, as I have already told you, I am not deaf, so kindly lower your tone.’ Turning on her heel, she strode to the stairs to collect Estelle.

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ he thundered, striding after her irate figure with the silent sureness of a wolf, stopping in his tracks when he saw three apprehensive young faces peering down at him from the stairs instead of the usual two. Placing his fists on his hips, he glowered from the extra child to the angry young woman. ‘Miss Lacy,’ he shouted. When Miss Lacy failed to appear, he cursed softly and pinned Eve with his gaze. ‘Where has that child come from,’ he demanded, pointing a long narrow finger at the offending child, ‘and what the hell is she doing in my house, today of all days?’

Eve’s eyes flew to the children while still feeling concern for Sarah. After all, it was the purpose for which she had walked into the lion’s den just minutes before.

‘The child you are referring to is my daughter.’

‘Then do you mind removing her from my house and yourself along with her? As you can see—’

‘You are moving out,’ Eve snapped.

‘Do you always make a habit of stating the obvious, Miss…?’

‘Mrs—Brody, and, yes, I do,’ she said, her eyes flashing as cold fury drained her face of colour and added a steely edge to her voice.

He returned her gaze steadily, studying her as though she were some strange creature he had just uncovered in his home. He had already noted her slight American intonation; her Scottish name was another fact that intrigued a rather bemused Lord Stainton. There was a moment of silence in which he tried to calm himself.

At thirty-two years of age, six feet four inches tall and with amazingly arresting eyes he was a strikingly handsome man. Rugged strength was carved into every feature of his bronzed face, from his straight dark brows and nose, his firm and sensually moulded lips, to the square, arrogant jut of his chin. Just now he was also formidable as he glared at the young woman who stood before him on his black-and-white marble floor. Every line of his face was set with disapproval.

‘Have you had an edifying look at me, Lord Stainton—I assume that is who you are?’

‘You are correct in your assumption, Mrs Brody.’

‘You are also the most ill-mannered, arrogant, inconsiderate man I have ever encountered,’ she upbraided him coldly.

His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. ‘I dare say I am all you accuse me of. It goes with the title.’

Eve was in no mood to be mocked, and she could see by the gleam in his eyes he was doing exactly that. ‘Then with you as an example, I can only hope you are the last titled Englishman I shall ever meet. Yesterday I fervently hoped and prayed I would never have the misfortune to set eyes on you again. Nothing has changed. Such an outward display of temperamental frustration is regarded as a sign of bad breeding where I come from.’

Ramming his fists into his waist, leaning forward, he stared at her in blank fury. ‘Really! You really are the most infuriatingly outspoken woman I have ever met. How dare you come into my house and say these things to me—things you know nothing about.’

‘Oh, I dare say a lot of things to a man who scares his children half to death and terrifies each and every one of his servants so they creep about in fear of you. The whole house vibrates with a tension that springs from you, Lord Stainton. It’s a wonder you have any servants at all to order about. By the look on your face I would wager I’ve hit a sore spot. Please don’t disappoint me by holding your temper. I would hate to see you explode with the effort.’

‘Believe me, Mrs Brody, you would not want to see me explode. I have a temper, I admit it, a violent one when I am driven to it. And how I raise my children and choose to live concerns only myself.’

Eve had made her point with an icy calmness. Lord Stainton was so taken aback by her outburst and her forthright way of speaking that his superiority evaporated as he stared at the attractive young woman whose fury turned her dark blue eyes beneath gracefully winged dark brows to violet. Framed by a heavy mass of auburn hair arranged neatly beneath her bonnet, her face was striking, with creamy, glowing skin, high cheekbones, and a small round chin with a tiny, intriguing cleft in the centre. Her nose was straight, her mouth soft and generously wide. His gaze moved over her slender body with a familiarity that brought a rush of colour to her cheeks.

Mrs Brody was a young woman in her early twenties, and she moved with a natural grace and poise that evaded most of the women he knew. Despite being a married woman, she exuded a gentle innocence that he found appealing. Beneath this he sensed an adventurous spirit tinged with wilfulness and obstinacy.

Appalled that he could find the time to scrutinise a complete stranger who had entered his home uninvited and chastised him so forcefully, when all around him there was complete and utter chaos, in sheer frustration he turned from her.

‘I’ve had enough of this charade, Mrs Brody. I have to get on. No one invited you here. There is the door. Use it.’

Eve could feel her face flaming in response to his rudeness. Her momentary shock gave way to a sudden burst of wrath. ‘You’re right, they didn’t. I came to make sure your children’s nurse arrived home safely. She was taken ill in the park and I considered it an act of human kindness to see that she made it home without mishap. Now that is done, it will be my pleasure to remove myself and my child from your house—when I have retrieved my dog from all this chaos, that is.’

He spun round to face her once more, and for the first time Eve saw his hard façade crack. ‘Dog? What dog?’ he echoed blankly. There was more than irritation in his question—there was stunned amazement.

‘The one that disappeared up your stairs when we came in.’

‘Are you telling me that there is an animal running loose in my house?’

‘That is exactly what I’m saying—but don’t be alarmed,’ she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, ‘it won’t bite. Ah, here it is now,’ she said, thankful to see Sarah coming down the stairs with Jasper in her arms. Meeting her halfway, she took the pup and got hold of Estelle’s hand, impatient to get out of the house as quickly as possible.

‘I see Lord Stainton is out of sorts again,’ Sarah whispered softly, looking at Eve with quiet concern. ‘Are you all right?’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Have a care. His lordship is not a man to listen or be reasoned with when he’s in one of his infamous adverse moods.’

With her back to Lord Stainton, Eve smiled at Sarah. ‘Oh, I think I can manage his lordship, Sarah.’

‘Unfortunately his temper rules his head. He will soon calm down.’

‘No doubt so will I—when I am out of this mad house. Now you take care of yourself, and marry that young man of yours before too long.’

Confronting Lord Stainton for the last time at the bottom of the stairs, she lifted her chin, in no way intimidated by this man. ‘Seeing that you are in the middle of a self-destructive rage cycle, Lord Stainton, I’ll get out from under your feet. I’m only sorry that I subjected my daughter to the rantings of a very rude lord.’

‘You have caught me on a bad day, Mrs Brody.’

‘Considering I have encountered you on two occasions, Lord Stainton, judging by your behaviour it would seem that you have a bad day most days.’

‘Not at all, Mrs Brody. If your daughter has been in any way upset by my “rantings”, then she has a small measure of my sympathy—the remainder of it must go to your long-suffering husband.’

Eve looked at him directly. ‘I am a widow, Lord Stainton, and my husband’s suffering was of short duration. He was killed outright by an English bullet in New Orleans. Now,’ she said, grasping Estelle’s hand tighter and clutching Jasper to her bosom with the other, ‘I have no wish to detain you any longer. Good day to you.’ She swept out of the house like a galleon in full sail, too angry to say one more word.

In a state of suspense, Lord Stainton stared at the open doorway through which Mrs Brody had just disappeared, feeling as if a hurricane had just blown itself out. He also felt bewildered and extremely angry with himself and a complete idiot, his expression holding more than a little dismay and remorse at what Mrs Brody had just divulged. From an early age he had been taught by his parents and his tutors to project a veneer of civilisation, regardless of how he was feeling, particularly when his emotions were incensed. He had just failed dismally.

‘Miss Lacy,’ he called, halting the nursemaid as she climbed the stairs to take Sophie and Abigail to their rooms. ‘Mrs Brody? Who is she and where does she live?’

‘Apart from her name I—I don’t know who she is, Lord Stainton. She never said. Although she did say she lived on Berkeley Street.’

‘I see.’ He was about to turn away when he remembered something Mrs Brody had said. ‘Miss Lacy.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Mrs Brody did mention that you weren’t feeling well,’ he said on a softer note. ‘Do you need to see a doctor?’

‘No, sir. I’m feeling much better now.’ She bobbed a little curtsy. ‘Thank you for asking.’

‘Good.’ With the skill he’d perfected when his wife had left him, he turned away and coldly dismissed Mrs Brody from his mind.

Disturbed and upset following her encounter with the insufferable Lord Stainton, and feeling a headache coming on, with a morose sigh Eve sank on to the sofa in the drawing room of the Seagroves’ elegant house on Berkeley Street, unable to believe the furious altercation had happened at all. Her anger had evaporated somewhat on her walk back, but she was still shaken. The dejection that had replaced her fury was completely uncharacteristic of her.

With the children happily ensconced upstairs in the nursery and William, Beth’s devoted husband, at work at the Foreign Office, glad to have some time to themselves, Beth poured them both some tea and sat back. She cast a sharp, searching look at her friend’s exquisite features.

‘What has you looking so grim, Eve? Tell me.’

‘I met someone today.’

‘Did you? Well, there’s nothing so unusual about that. Is it someone I know?’

‘I would think so. Lord Stainton, and I have to say he is the rudest, most conceited man I have ever met in my life.’

Beth laughed. ‘Then that explains it. What happened?’

In no time at all Eve told her everything that had occurred, from the moment she had met Sarah Lacy in the park to being ordered out of Stainton House like one of the criminal fraternity. She didn’t tell her about their previous encounter in the park, since Beth was always chiding her for going off by herself. When she had finished Beth looked stunned.

‘Dear me! It sounds to me as if you have upset that illustrious lord.’

Eve grimaced. ‘I didn’t mean to—although I suppose I was somewhat rude and outspoken, and in his house, too. Do you know him, Beth?’

‘My dear Eve, the whole of London knows Lord Stainton.’

‘What do you know about him?’

‘He’s devastatingly handsome for one thing—you must admit that.’

Bringing the image of the tall, lean and superbly fit Lord Stainton to mind, Eve could not deny that despite his stern, finely chiselled mouth and the arrogant authority stamped in his firm jaw and the cynicism in his cold, light blue eyes, he was breathtakingly handsome. ‘Yes, I suppose he is.’

Beth sighed almost dreamily. ‘I do so like handsome men.’

‘I know. That’s why you married William,’ Eve commented teasingly.

‘Oh, no,’ Beth said, chuckling softly as she took a sip of her tea. ‘William is sensible, reliable and conscientious, but also sensitive, gentle and idealistic. That is why I married him.’

‘I agree, he is all those things. William is a paragon among men, and not a hardened cynic like Lord Stainton. What else do you know about him?’

‘Well, on a physical and intellectual level there’s none better. He inherited the title from his brother, who died several months ago. He lives quietly and isn’t often seen in society these days, although I have seen him on occasion at the more sedate affairs. He’s been the object of gossip ever since he divorced his wife Maxine about a year ago. She’s the daughter of the Earl of Clevedon—Lord Irvine. At the time the divorce created a scandal that set the ton on fire.’

Eve stared at her in shocked amazement. ‘Divorce? He divorced his wife—the mother of those two lovely children? Why on earth would he do that?’

‘I don’t know all the details, but what I do know is that his wife caused complications from the day he married her. Compounded in her many faults, apparently, was the fact that she was exquisitely beautiful, elegant and clever and attractive to other men. A man of Lord Stainton’s character would not tolerate infidelity.’

‘She had an affair?’

‘Several, apparently. After the birth of her second daughter it’s rumoured she indulged in one affair after another, the most intensive being with Lucas Stainton’s own brother. Her behaviour really was quite scandalous. She actually walked out on Lord Stainton to live with his brother in the country.’

‘She left her children?’ Eve gasped, appalled that any woman could do such a thing.

‘Yes, she did. Apparently the divorce turned out to be extremely expensive—it virtually ruined him. Of course Lucas’s brother didn’t help matters, being an inveterate gambler. The Stainton coffers were depleted long before he died.’

‘Then Lord Stainton will have an unenviable task on his hands replenishing them.’

‘Indeed he will.’

‘Is he ostracised because of his divorce?’

‘On the contrary. It all adds to his mystery and charm. The ton positively pander to him and no one would dare give him the cut. Of course he is free to marry again, but the aristocratic mamas on the look out for suitable husbands for their darling daughters do not consider an impoverished, divorced lord at all suitable. However, he’s favoured for his looks and every hostess in the ton has been trying to lure him back into society, but he declines their invitations.

‘I believe he’s selling his London house and moving to the country.’

‘Yes, I know. Laurel Court. It’s close to William’s parents’ house in Oxfordshire and it’s very beautiful, although sadly neglected. If he’s selling his house in Mayfair, then hopefully it might help pay some of the debts. If not, who knows what he will do. If he wants to keep the estate, then he might even resort to marrying an heiress—and why not? He won’t be the first impoverished nobleman to marry for money and he won’t be the last.’

‘That seems rather drastic, Beth.’

‘To you, having lived almost all your life in America, I suppose it does. In English society, marrying for money is considered a perfectly acceptable undertaking. However, pride is a dominant Stainton trait and Lord Stainton will find it extremely difficult and distasteful having to resort to such extreme measures. But that said, I do believe he might honour us with his presence tonight with Lady Ellesmere being an old friend of the family and the occasion being a rather sedate affair.’

Eve’s eyes snapped open as a blaze of animosity and a shock of terror erupted through her entire body. ‘Lord Stainton will be there?’

Beth laughed, in no way sorry for her friend’s consternation. ‘Don’t be alarmed, Eve. He may decide not to go.’

‘On the other hand he might.’

‘Try not to worry. By now perhaps he looks back on the incident with amusement.’

‘If he does, then he has a warped sense of humour, Beth. He will not find the incident amusing, believe me. In fact, I might stay at home. Lord Stainton will not want to see me any more than I wish to see him. Besides, I have developed this terrible headache in the last hour. An early night suddenly seems most appealing.’

‘Nonsense. You are going. With a room full of matrons and grandes dames, I am relying on you to talk to me. As for the headache, I’ll give you a couple of my powders to alleviate it. Take one before you go and another before you go to bed.’

By the time Eve was ready to leave for Lady Ellesmere’s party, her head was aching quite badly. Having taken one of Beth’s powders and feeling no effect, she took the one she was supposed to take before she went to bed. After tucking Estelle in bed and kissing her goodnight, she went to join Beth and William.

Lady Ellesmere’s house was a blaze of light when the carriage drew up outside. A liveried footman stepped aside as they swept into the marble-floored hall. Entering the salon, they paused and Eve’s eyes swept the assembled guests dressed in their finery, the ladies beautiful in silks and satins fashionably cut.

With an eye for comfort, luxury and fashionable elegance, the walls were hung with ivory silk delicately worked with a gold-and-green design, the colours reflected in the upholstery and the heavy curtains hung at the windows. Expensive Turkish rugs covered the floor. The room was aglow with the dazzling radiance of myriad candles, the delicate crystal pendants of the chandeliers splattering the walls with prisms of light. Soft music being played by a string quartet could be heard in the background and for those guests who sought entertainment two adjoining rooms had been set aside for gaming. The French doors were set wide to catch the coolness of the night and to allow guests on to the wide lantern-lit terrace.

It was an informal affair. Lady Ellesmere, a striking middle-aged widow, was seated on a gold-coloured chaise longue. Like a queen, bedecked in sparkling jewels and her richly coloured silk skirts spread about her, she reigned supreme.

Taking two glasses of champagne from a silver tray, William handed them to his companions, then took one for himself and surveyed the glittering company.

‘Rather splendid, isn’t it?’

‘As usual,’ Beth answered. ‘It’s what you expect at Lady Ellesmere’s affairs. How is your headache, Eve? Has the powder I gave you helped?’

Eve smiled. Relieved to see no one she would rather not, she began to relax. ‘Yes, I believe it has—although I did take the other one just to be on the safe side.’

Beth stared at her in shock. ‘You took them both? Oh, Eve, you really shouldn’t have. They really are quite strong. I wouldn’t drink too much champagne on top of them if I were you.’

William chuckled softly. ‘Just one of Beth’s powders is enough to send the sufferer off to sleep for a week, Eve. Two powders and you can guarantee being rendered unconscious for a fortnight.’

Feeling perfectly all right and in no way concerned, Eve laughed and took a sip of her champagne. ‘I never drink more than two glasses anyway, so worry not, you two. In fact, I think when we’ve spoken to Lady Ellesmere I might partake of some refreshment,’ she said, her eyes straying to the connecting salon where tables had been laid out with delicious delicacies.

Lucas saw Eve the instant he entered Lady Ellesmere’s salon. Seeing her made him stop, shocked into inaction. His brows drew together in disbelief that she was here, and that the harridan who had invaded his house earlier was the glamorous red head strolling casually through the roomful of wealthy elite with William Seagrove and his wife.

Lucas was with his good friend Henry Channing, who was easy to please and the most amenable of men. Henry revelled in London life, which was a change from the backwoods of Newcastle he’d been brought up in. With his looks and his father’s wealth he was well received everywhere, his trade origins being conveniently forgotten.

Henry followed his gaze, interest lighting his eyes when he saw the delightful object of his friend’s attention. ‘That absolutely divine creature is Mrs Eve Brody,’ he provided, ‘born in England and raised in America. Her father passed away recently, leaving her immensely rich, I believe.’

‘Is that so,’ Lucas drawled drily, staring at the champagne in his glass.

‘Mrs Brody, who is a widow, has received numerous offers of marriage in America. Since coming to England, she has attracted a great deal of interest, but she discourages those suitors as soon as their intentions become apparent to her.’

Lucas turned a baleful eye on his friend. ‘You seem to be extremely knowledgeable about Mrs Brody, Henry.’

‘My sister is a close friend of Beth Seagrove.’

‘Then that explains it. However, I am not remotely interested in Mrs Brody, Henry.’ Turning his back on Eve, he smiled at Lady Ellesmere, who was beckoning him over, and began walking towards her, abandoning a bemused Henry.

Later Lucas’s eyes were drawn to Eve again, standing near the refreshment room, the light from the chandelier bathing her in a golden glow. From across the room he studied her stunning figure and flawless beauty. Her heavy, fiery auburn hair had been twisted into burnished curls at the crown. Her gown was pale green with a tightly fitted bodice that forced her breasts high and exposed a daring expanse of flesh.

Having been aware of his presence for some time and feeling his razor-sharp gaze on her, Eve found the memory of their angry altercation still very much on her mind. It made her feel quite ill at the same time as pride forced her to lift her chin and rebelliously to face him across the distance that separated them, meeting his ruthless stare. For the second time within twelve short hours her dark eyes beheld another’s in mutual animosity.

Lord Stainton’s tall, athletic frame was resplendent in black jacket and trousers. In contrast, his shirt and neckcloth were dazzling white. He looked unbearably handsome. He also looked utterly bored.

Eve stood in resentful silence while his gaze slid boldly over her, from the top of her shining deep red curls to the toes of her satin slippers. She was accustomed to the admiring glances of gentlemen, but there was nothing gentlemanly about Lord Stainton’s insolent, lazy perusal of her body. Incensed she turned her back on him to listen to what Beth was saying to her.

‘If the weather is nice tomorrow, I think we’ll take a picnic to the park. Would you like that? There’s to be a balloon ascent during the afternoon. The children would love that.’

‘I wouldn’t mind seeing it myself and it will certainly do the children good to get out of the house and let off some steam. How long will it be before your house in Camberwell is finished?’ Eve enquired. There was great excitement in the Seagrove household over the large house being built for them in Camberwell, south of the river. Like many businessmen, William was moving his family out of the centre of the city, yet close enough for him to drive in to work.

‘Another two months—and I cannot wait. Eve, I’m glad Estelle’s settled in so well. When you arrived, I confess to being worried that she would miss New York.’

‘Your brood have made it easy for her, Beth. In fact, at the moment life is one huge adventure for my darling daughter.’

Beth smiled, hiding her dismay that the same could not be said for her friend. Since Eve’s arrival, she had quickly become a popular figure on the social scene. Several eligible bachelors had been plaguing her relentlessly to allow them to pay their addresses to her, but she politely shunned them all, seeming to have no interest in forming that kind of relationship with any man.

Glancing across the room at Lord Stainton, Eve watched him prowl among the guests. He seemed to radiate barely leashed strength and power. There was something primitive about him, and she felt that his elegant attire and indolence were nothing but a front meant to lull the unwary into believing he was a civilised being while disguising the fact that he was a dangerous savage.

When he began moving into their vicinity, Eve’s urge to flee promptly overpowered every other instinct. ‘If you will excuse me, Beth, I would like to visit the ladies’ room.’

Having seen Lord Stainton arrive and the shock register on Eve’s face, Beth laughed and placed a restraining hand on her arm. ‘Oh, no, you don’t. I think you should be properly presented to Lord Stainton and forget your earlier encounter.’

When Beth drew her forward, mentally Eve braced herself.

Unable to avoid a confrontation, Lucas stood his ground and bowed graciously to Beth. ‘It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mrs Seagrove. Your husband is here?’

‘He is indeed, although I fear a game of faro has caught his interest. Lord Stainton, may I present my good friend, Eve Brody.’

Eve looked at Lord Stainton’s shuttered eyes. She could find no trace of gentleness or kindness anywhere in his tough, ruggedly chiselled cynical features. His slashed eyebrows were more accustomed to frowning than smiling, and he had a hard mouth with a hint of cruelty in it. It was a face that said its owner cared nothing for fools, and in the light blue of his dark lashed eyes, silver flecks stirred dangerously, like small warning lights.

‘We’ve already met,’ she stated, toying with the glass of champagne she held between her fingers.

William chose that moment to emerge from the gaming room; seeing him, Beth hastily excused herself, determined to reach him and coax him away from the game of whist that was about to start in the other room.

Lucas nodded to her and again fixed his gaze on Eve. ‘That’s right, Mrs Brody, we have met. I’m flattered that you remember me,’ he replied, keeping a good distance between them.

Determined to appear calm and unaffected by their early encounter and not indulge in a public display of temper, Eve forced a smile to her lips. ‘I’ve tried to forget our unpleasant encounter, Lord Stainton. It’s difficult.’

‘Well, here’s to your future success.’

He lifted his glass in a mocking toast. Eve did the same. Unfortunately her head chose that moment to spin. Her hand shook and the champagne sloshed out of her glass and spilled down the front of her dress. Lord Stainton jumped to the wrong conclusion as to why her eyes looked glazed and, raking her with an insulting glance, his mouth curved scornfully.

‘Didn’t anyone tell you about the perils of drink, Mrs Brody?’ he remarked contemptuously. He saw her flinch, but her gaze never faltered.

‘I don’t,’ she bit back, resisting the urge to snatch his glass and toss its contents into his arrogant face.

‘It is obvious to me that you do and that you cannot hold it,’ he said imperturbably.

Desperate to appear normal, Eve was thankful when a solicitous footman was already lowering a tray of champagne to come to her aid. With a grateful smile pasted on her face, she handed him her glass and took a napkin he offered with shaky fingers. She proceeded to dab at her dress and handed it back.

‘Thank you,’ she said, glancing around to see if they were being observed, relieved to find the incident had gone unnoticed.

‘Perhaps you would like some more champagne,’ Lord Stainton said in a silky voice.

‘No, thank you,’ she replied tightly.

‘It’s a very wise person who knows when to stop.’

She glared at him. ‘Go away, Lord Stainton. You really are the most provoking man alive and quite insufferable.’

Instead of being insulted or angered, he looked at her with amusement and shook his head. ‘What were you expecting to find, Mrs Brody? A socially accepted gentleman? A rake or a dandified fop? I am none of these.’

Before Eve could react to his words, in a mockery of another toast, he said, ‘Enjoy your evening.’ And he walked away to join Henry Channing.


Chapter Two

As the evening wore on Eve was finding it more and more difficult to stay awake. What was the matter with her? All she wanted to do was go to sleep. And then it hit her. She knew what was wrong. It was those wretched headache powders she had taken. Perhaps some fresh air would help. Where was Beth? Her eyes swept around the room looking for her friend, but there was no sign of her.

Snaking her way round obstacles, she eventually came to the French windows that led out on to the terrace. Stepping out, she crossed to a low wall and placed her hands on it for support, breathing hard. The terrace was dimly lit and she did not see the tall dark-haired man, a thin cheroot he occasionally enjoyed clamped between his even white teeth, his features in shadow, quietly conversing with Henry Channing until it was too late, otherwise she would never have ventured outside.

‘I say, are you all right?’ Henry remarked, having watched her come outside. He was concerned when he saw her place her hand to her forehead.

Eve swayed, seeing the look of unconcealed disgust on Lord Stainton’s face. Before she could reply, his icy voice said,

‘I believe the lady is completely foxed, Henry. You can expect to have one hell of a hangover in the morning, Mrs Brody.’

‘I would expect it had I been drinking, but I haven’t, and if I had it would be none of your business. How dare you?’

‘I dare say a lot of things to you, Mrs Brody, but I won’t waste my breath.’ Catching her by the arm as she rocked to one side, he thrust her rudely down on to the wall. ‘Sit there while I summon your friends. I think they should take you home before you disgrace yourself and them with your undignified behaviour.’

Eve raised her head and stared up at him, unable to focus properly. ‘You don’t understand…’

‘I understand all too well,’ he said scathingly, his accusing eyes dropping to the damp stain on the front of her dress.

‘I resent that,’ she gasped, trying to get to her feet but falling back and having to close her eyes when her head began to spin in a dizzy whirl.

‘She’s going to swoon,’ Henry predicted.

‘I am not,’ Eve protested, defying her pronouncement by almost toppling off the wall.

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Lord Stainton thundered, casting the cigar to the ground. Grasping her about the waist, he scooped her up into his arms and headed for a bench further along the terrace. ‘Find Mrs Seagrove, Henry, and ask her to come at once—and find some hartshorn or whatever it is that brings one out of a swoon. And for heaven’s sake be discreet. Should anyone come outside and find me with a senseless woman in my arms, gossip will be raging through London like wildfire before breakfast.’

Henry rushed off to do his bidding while Lord Stainton carried his helpless burden along the terrace.

Coming to her senses and blisteringly aware of her close proximity to Lord Stainton’s broad chest, fury and indignation shot like red-hot sparks through Eve’s body. ‘How dare you?’ she cried, squirming against him, trying to break his hold. ‘Will you put me down? No matter what you think, I do not deserve such treatment.’ Her struggle only seemed to make him angrier.

‘Be quiet and keep still,’ he ordered, going a little further before dumping her unceremoniously on to a bench.

Eve fought the lethargy that was stealing over her and snapped her head up, intending to launch into a tirade, but looking past her tormentor she saw a figure in a pale pink gown rushing towards her.

‘Beth,’ she cried. Never had she been so relieved to see anyone in her life.

‘What on earth has happened?’ Beth bent over her friend, her face creased with concern. ‘Is your headache worse, Eve?’

‘No, no, it isn’t, and none of this is my fault. Beth, will you please tell this puffed-up lord who has the manners of a barbarian and who is bent on assassinating my character that I am suffering nothing more serious than an overdose of your headache powders and not over-indulgence of champagne.’

‘Headache powders?’ Instead of looking guilty because he’d made a mistake, Lord Stainton looked infuriatingly amused. ‘You are prone to headaches, Mrs Brody?’

‘No, as a matter of fact I rarely suffer minor ailments, but earlier today I had the misfortune to meet you, Lord Stainton.’

‘Then what can I say?’

‘Sorry would be a start,’ Eve bit back.

‘Very well. The mistake was mine. I apologise most humbly.’

‘Humble? You?’ she gasped, unable to believe her ears. ‘You couldn’t be humble if you tried.’

‘Contrary to what you obviously think of me,’ he drawled, ‘I was merely coming to your rescue. Your actions, like on our previous encounter, led me to believe you were in danger of swooning.’

‘And I seem to recall telling you that I never swoon—and I was not in any danger,’ Eve lied coldly, avoiding Beth’s questioning eyes, knowing full well that she would have to give her a full account of her encounter with Lord Stainton in the park.

Lazy mockery lit his eyes. ‘And you are sure of that, are you?’ he asked, as amusement seemed to drain the tension in his body.

‘I most assuredly am.’

‘To show you how wrong you are, Mrs Brody, I suggest that when you get up off that bench you will allow me to assist you.’

Eve opened her mouth to make some suitably scathing remark about his outrageous conceit, but his bold smile was too much for her. Swinging her legs on to the ground, she got to her feet unsteadily. When Lord Stainton reached out to take her arm, she snatched it away and glared at him.

‘Don’t you dare touch me. I wouldn’t let you touch me to save me from drowning,’ she retorted furiously.

‘I understand,’ Lord Stainton drawled mildly.

Placing her hand on Beth’s arm, Eve completely ignored Lord Stainton. ‘I would like to go home, if you don’t mind, Beth. I really must go to bed before I make a total fool of myself and fall asleep in Lady Ellesmere’s salon. That would never do.’

Seeing the funny side of the incident, Beth suppressed a smile. ‘No, it would not. It’s almost time to leave anyway. We’ll find William and say goodnight to Lady Ellesmere.’ She turned to Lord Stainton and Mr Channing, who was looking totally bemused and holding a bottle of hartshorn in his hand. ‘Goodnight, Lord Stainton, Mr Channing, and thank you for your assistance.’

‘Good Lord, Lucas,’ Henry uttered after a long moment of silence, staring at his friend in disbelief. Grown men rarely dared to challenge him, yet here was this young American widow—an exquisite, extremely ravishing American widow—who had done exactly that. ‘She actually accused you of having the manners of a barbarian. Mrs Brody is one angry lady,’ he said, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘I doubt she will forgive you in a hurry.’

Lucas glanced toward the closed doors through which the aforesaid lady had just disappeared, and in the space of an instant, Henry watched his lazy smile harden into a mask of ironic amusement.

‘I’m sure she won’t. But that’s Mrs Brody’s problem, Henry. Not mine.’

Beth insisted on picnicking away from the crowds of people who poured into Hyde Park to watch a French aviator’s ascent in a huge balloon, which was the cause of much excitement among the Seagrove children and Estelle. The event had generated so much interest that it had disrupted the usual cavalcade of handsome equipages that congregated daily in the afternoon. It consisted of men mounted on fine thoroughbred horses, colourful and elaborately clad dandies and women in the best society, the carriage company some of the most celebrated beauties in London. The sun was pleasantly warm, and people were laughing and joking, all talking about the giant, hissing balloon that had taken off successfully.

Accompanying the carriage carrying Miss Lacy and his children on horseback, Lucas came upon the picnic scene by chance. It was one of complete enchantment, of a small group of people—three adults, one of them a nursemaid or governess, and three children, two boys and a girl. The adults were sitting on the grass in the shade of the giant beech trees, a white cloth spread on the ground on to which baskets of food had been unpacked. The children, in high spirits, were running about trying to catch one another, shrieking with laughter.

It was the woman, dressed in a delightful lightweight blue-sprigged dress with a wide sash of deeper blue tied in a bow at the back, on whom his attention was focused. He looked at the sunlight glinting on the flaming strands of her glorious wealth of auburn hair that tumbled on to her shoulders in a mass of curls, the sides drawn to the back of her head and secured with a blue satin ribbon. Her feet were tucked under her dress, her face upturned to the sky. She looked about sixteen, though her figure was mature. She was watching the balloon, which had just become airborne, soar up beyond the clouds, causing much excitement among the crowd.

Taking her eyes off the balloon, she turned her attention to the children, a serene smile on her face as her eyes settled on the little girl. Beth’s two boys, boisterous and as audacious as a barrowload of monkeys, were a bit too much for Estelle, and she found it hard to keep up with them. But determined not to be left behind, she persevered. Suddenly Estelle stood stock still and her face broke into a bright smile at something she had seen further away, and then she was running in a fever of excitement to Eve.

‘Sophie! Mama, it’s Sophie and Abigail,’ and before Eve could stop her she was scampering off across the grass as fast as her little legs could carry her to where a carriage had halted so the occupants could watch the balloon.

Eve scrambled to her feet and ran after her, smiling delightedly on seeing Sarah Lacy and her young charges.

‘Sarah, how lovely to see you again.’ She looked at the children. ‘Have you come to watch the balloon?’

‘Yes,’ Sophie said, her eyes shining with glee, clearly having enjoyed the spectacle. ‘It was ever so exciting.’

‘And it made a hissing noise like a dragon,’ Abigail babbled happily, at three years old already having a good command of the English language.

‘The children were so excited,’ Sarah said, returning Eve’s smile. ‘They’ve never seen a balloon before.’

‘Neither have I. It was quite a novel experience. Sarah, why don’t you come and share our picnic? It would be lovely for Sophie and Abigail to play with Estelle—and there’s ample food.’

‘I don’t think so, Mrs Brody. Thank you for your kind offer, but Miss Lacy and the children must be getting back.’

Eve whirled round at that familiar deep voice, and looked into the face of Lord Stainton. She knew by his expression that he was not as stunned as she was. For some inexplicable reason her heart set up a wild thumping. His face was still, but his eyes were a brilliant, quite dangerous pale blue. He lounged indolently against the back of the open carriage with the ease of a man discussing nothing more serious than the weather. The remembrance of their previous encounters, all of which had been angry and bitter experiences, touched her deeply.

He wore a plum-coloured cutaway coat and buff knee breeches tucked into highly polished black riding boots, and his neck linen was sparkling white. His gaze was sharp and penetrating and he radiated the same strong masculine appeal. Eve watched him warily, experiencing the depth to which her mind and body were oddly stirred whenever she was in his presence.

Pushing himself away from the carriage, he bowed his dark, shining head. ‘I trust your headache is much improved today, Mrs Brody?’

‘Yes, thank you for asking,’ she replied stiffly.

‘I didn’t expect to meet you at such a gathering,’ he remarked, his expression unreadable.

‘I can’t think why not. I enjoyed watching the ascending balloon enormously—almost as much as the children.’ Distracted by Estelle, who was jumping up and down beside her, better to see Sophie and Abigail in the carriage, she said, ‘Please let your daughters play with Estelle—just for a minute.’ Lord Stainton’s face became cool with the compelling arrogance she associated with him.

‘I told you, we have to be getting back,’ he uttered sternly.

Eve looked at his daughters. Their little shoulders were slumped in dejection and her heart went out to them. There was something rather timid about Sophie and Abigail, something cowed and contrary to the normal exuberance of children.

‘Children need to run about and shout and laugh once in a while, Lord Stainton,’ she said calmly, trying to speak to him without the abrasive tongue of an enemy. ‘There’s no harm in it.’

‘Please, Papa,’ Sophie whispered tentatively, ‘can we play with Estelle for just a little while?’

Eve looked straight at him, waiting for him to reply to Sophie’s quiet plea, hoping he was not inclined to inflict his bad temper on his children. She was relieved when she saw his expression soften.

‘Very well, Sophie,’ he conceded. ‘Miss Lacy, please don’t let them out of your sight.’ Instructing the driver to wait with the carriage, he opened the carriage door and lifted his excited offspring down on to the grass, before striding back to his horse.

With Estelle and Sophie scampering on ahead, Eve took Abigail’s hand and walked with her to the picnic. Lord Stainton watched them from atop his horse and he began to smile, for their laughter was infectious. His face was soft and his eyes were warm. He had a strong sense of responsibility and felt a deep affection for his daughters.

It worried him greatly that they were growing up without the influence and love that could only come from a mother, but when his wife had walked out on him, she had also callously abandoned her children. Turning his horse away from the delightful picture of the picnicking group and feeling a knot of envy that he was not a part of that group, he trotted over to speak to an acquaintance.

Settling herself on the grass beside Sarah, Eve glanced at her with concern. Her expression was strained and apprehensive and Eve suspected things weren’t well with her. ‘You look pale, Sarah. Are you all right?’ she enquired with quiet concern. ‘It can’t be easy for you working for a man as formidable as Lord Stainton.’

Sarah smiled, watching her young charges as they laughed and chattered over their jellies and buns, happy to see them fitting in well with Mrs Seagrove’s two boys, Thomas and David. ‘It must seem like that to you, but his bark can often be worse than his bite. I’ve given much thought to what I told you yesterday—about leaving my employment.’

Eve looked at her expectantly. ‘And?’ she prompted. ‘What have you decided?’

‘I’m going to marry Mark. It’s what we both want—but it will break my heart to leave Sophie and Abigail.’

‘Have you told Lord Stainton?’

She nodded. ‘This morning. I will carry on working for him until he leaves for the country—perhaps two or three weeks. I haven’t told the children yet. I—don’t know how to.’

Eve reached out and squeezed her hand comfortingly. ‘I know just how difficult that will be for you, but I’m sure you’ll find a way—and Lord Stainton will be sure to find someone who will care for his daughters.’

‘Yes—I’m sure you’re right.’

Their attention was drawn to the children who, having finished eating, with cries of delight scampered off across the grass, Sophie and Estelle hand in hand. Not intending to be left behind, Abigail shouted, ‘Wait for me,’ and ran awkwardly after them. Unfortunately, she was so intent on catching the two older girls that she didn’t look where she was going, and the next instant she had run straight into a tree. There was a howl and Eve and Sarah turned simultaneously to see Abigail on the ground, her skirts tipped up in a froth of white lace petticoats and drawers, and a horrified Sophie running back to see what had befallen her sister.

Observing the incident from a distance, Lucas cursed beneath his breath and dismounted. As he strode towards what was quickly becoming a mêlée, an expression of immense concern clouded his face, anxious and not at all pleased.

Sophie, her eyes huge and brimming with tears, stood looking down at Abigail, her hand still clutching that of Estelle. ‘Abigail was running and bumped into the tree and banged her head,’ she wailed, crying even louder when she saw the graze and the swelling bump on her sister’s head, almost choking on her tears.

Eve immediately scooped the injured child up into her arms to comfort her while Sarah tried to console Sophie.

‘I knew this would be a mistake,’ Lord Stainton thundered, glowering accusingly at Eve. It was as if she had physically pushed the child into the tree.

For a full five minutes the picnic area was filled with the voices of crying children, the concerned voices of Beth and Sarah, and Lord Stainton’s deeper, alarmed and irate voice.

Eve looked at him coldly. ‘Will you please be quiet,’ she said, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible. ‘Shouting like that will only upset the children more than they already are and make the situation worse.’

Inconsolable, Abigail continued to sob loudly, her hand on the already swelling lump on her forehead. She was frightened and bewildered by the sharp anger of her father and she cried fiercely. Completely ignoring the glowering Lord Stainton, whose mouth had clamped shut at her firm reproach, Eve sat on a bench with her young burden and cradled her on her lap, hugging her tightly and murmuring soft, soothing words against her wet cheek.

‘Does it hurt very much?’ she asked the sobbing child. ‘Did that nasty tree get in your way?’

She nodded. ‘Yes,’ she wailed, ‘it did.’

‘Here, let me see.’ Eve wiped the hair from Abigail’s wet face.

‘I bumped my head,’ Abigail said between sobs, ‘and it hurts.’

‘I know it does, sweetheart,’ Eve murmured, hugging her once more, ‘and when you get home I’m sure Miss Lacy will put something very special on it to make it better.’

‘And will that hurt?’

‘No, of course it won’t. It will make the horrid bump go away in no time at all.’

Eve would have been surprised if she had looked up and seen Lord Stainton’s face as he watched her cradling his daughter, her cheek resting on the child’s dark curls. Looking on, he felt as though he was an intruder, a stranger, and that the two children belonged to someone else.

Mesmerised by the lovely picture the woman and child created, his expression had softened. He listened intently to her trying to sooth Abigail, which was something that came quite naturally to her. Gradually the child became quiet and ceased to cry, looking at the face of the woman with something akin to adoration and responding to the warmth in her voice.

Both the scene and the words of comfort Mrs Brody murmured bewitched him and reached out to some unknown part of him that he had not been aware he possessed. It touched and lightened a dark corner for a brief instant and then was it was gone.

Aware of Lord Stainton’s presence, Eve looked at him. Abigail saw her father and was shy of him, hiding her face in Eve’s neck. Standing up and carrying the child, Eve murmured, ‘Come, Abigail. Let’s go and find Miss Lacy, shall we? And perhaps you would like to take some of those pretty pink fairy cakes home with you that you liked so much. We shall see if we can find a fancy napkin to wrap them in. Would you like that?’

‘Yes, please,’ Abigail whispered, having enjoyed the warmth and the cuddle the kind lady had given her and beginning to feel better already.

As Sarah settled the children in the carriage, with Abigail clutching the fairy cakes to her chest as if they were the most precious things in the world, Eve walked back to Lord Stainton. He was about to mount his horse and paused to look down at her.

‘I do not believe Abigail will suffer any adverse affects from her fall, Lord Stainton, but if you are worried unduly perhaps a doctor could take a look at her.’ A slow smile curved her lips. ‘In the rough and tumble of growing up, children trip up all the time.’

‘I sincerely hope you are right, Mrs Brody, and Abigail suffers no ill effects. However, Sophie and Abigail are not in the habit of running about like young savages.’

‘Then perhaps they should be. It’s far healthier for them to be out of doors and running about. They can still be in a stable environment without being cooped up in the house all day.’

‘My children have all the stability I can give them. They have had a secure upbringing and they are happy in the affection of a nursemaid.’

‘Nursemaids are all very well for infants, Lord Stainton, but for growing girls—’

‘They need their mother,’ he interrupted in a soft, blood-chilling voice as he loomed over her, stopping her abruptly, his face taut with some emotion Eve did not recognise. ‘I couldn’t agree with you more, but they don’t have a mother—at least not the kind of mother you are familiar with.’

‘I’m sorry. If you had let me finish what I was about to say, I was going to suggest a governess.’

‘If I wanted your advice, I would ask for it. My children are my responsibility and I will guide them as I see fit.’

‘Then I would say that, with the attitude you’ve got, you will not make a very good job of it.’

‘Don’t you dare lecture me on how to raise my daughters, Mrs Brody. They are nothing to do with you, so I would be obliged if you would mind your own business.’

Eve stood back as he hoisted himself up into the saddle and without another word rode after the carriage. Her heart softened—she was not cruel, and she could well imagine how difficult it must be for him raising two young daughters alone. Sarah’s resignation must have come as a terrible blow and she sincerely hoped he would find someone who would care for his children as much as she had.

As he followed the carriage carrying his daughters, Lucas stopped every now and then, his eyes glancing back at the young woman with the deep red hair walking back to her party. Finally he turned his head away as if she didn’t exist.

The household was in bed and Eve was alone. She was tired after going with Beth and William and the children to visit their new house across the river, but she was restless and unable to sleep. Seated before the dressing table mirror, she was staring into space. She loved England and Beth’s spacious elegant house in Berkeley Street was a balm to her spirits, but she felt so alone. Instead of distracting her from her grief over her father’s death, being here in this alien country with a loving family was compounding the unreality and isolation she had felt since his funeral.

Her father had died suddenly just three months earlier. They had always been close and his parting had left her bereft. Lonely and lost without his support, with her daughter she retreated with her grief into her home, though it wasn’t long before potential suitors, aware of the vast wealth she had inherited, began arriving at her door like a swarm of locusts.

After weeks of turning her back on each and every one of them, she had emerged from her twilight world and, when a letter arrived from her good friend Beth Seagrove inviting her to come and stay with her and her lovely family, she had set sail for England. She and Beth had been close friends since childhood. Both their families had lived in New York and Eve had been sad when Beth had married William Seagrove and had gone to live in London.

Eve envied Beth her easy relationship with this lovely, supportive man, and dearly wished things had turned out like this for her. Sadly it was not meant to be. Andrew Brody, her husband of six months, had been killed in sordid circumstances, leaving her alone and pregnant with Estelle.

With a sigh she pushed her melancholia aside and studied her reflection in the glass. Decisions had to be made about what she was going to do next. No matter how much she loved staying with Beth and William, she knew that she couldn’t stay with them for ever. Besides, as yet she was unable to access her father’s money; according to the solicitor she had employed here in London, his affairs could take some considerable time to sort out.

Eve was quietly concerned about this because her available funds were limited, but her lawyer had assured her that it was only a matter of time before a conclusion was reached. So for the time being, in order to be self-sufficient, she must find some kind of employment to tide her over.

One thing she was quite clear about was that she did not want to return to New York and had already decided to settle in England, but not London. The city was too big, too noisy. She had no remaining family in England, so Eve was free to settle where she chose.

Ever optimistic, the three bitter encounters with Lord Stainton two weeks ago was forgotten, but not the gentleman himself or his beautiful children, and not for the first time she wondered if he had found a replacement for Sarah Lacy. She had not heard otherwise and, if this was indeed the case, had thought of a scheme that could prove beneficial not only to her but to Lord Stainton, if he would but listen to her and consider it.

The following morning as she left her room to go down to breakfast, Eve tried to recapture the emotions she’d had last night, emotions that had made it completely appropriate and perfectly right for her to see Lord Stainton and try to persuade him to consider her as a nursemaid to his children. In the cold light of day, however, what she was planning to do seemed completely insane.

Beth was incredulous and appalled when Eve told her what she intended. Lifting a spoonful of steaming porridge to his lips, William glanced across at her. Diplomatic as always, he was prepared to listen to what their guest had planned in more detail before voicing an opinion.

‘You are going to ask Lord Stainton to employ you?’ Beth gasped. ‘But, Eve, that’s preposterous. You dislike him intensely.’

‘In all honesty, I don’t know what I think and it’s absolutely insane I know, but I’m going to ask him just the same.’

‘What? After he almost trampled you to death beneath his horse and berated you and unfairly accused you of being drunk?’

‘It wasn’t his fault. I suppose that’s how it must have looked to him. He jumped to the wrong conclusion, that was all. He can be forgiven for that.’

‘Eve, you are a very wealthy woman,’ William stated calmly. ‘You have no reason to work for your living.’

‘I have yet to receive my inheritance, William, as well you know, and I can’t possibly go on living with you and Beth indefinitely. No, I have made up my mind to do this.’ She raised her hand to silence Beth as she was about to protest. ‘I have to seek temporary employment.’ She smiled at the concern clouding Beth’s eyes. ‘You need not look so worried. Feeling as he does towards me, Lord Stainton might well show me the door.’

‘Oh, dear. No good will come of this, I just know it. Have you not considered remarrying, Eve? Several gentlemen have shown considerable interest in you since your arrival in London—all eminently suitable and available.’

A darkness entered Eve’s eyes and she shook her head emphatically. ‘No, Beth. At this present time marriage is the last thing I want. Marriage to Andrew taught me many things—most of them unpleasant—and I am in no hurry to repeat the experience.’

Beth had always suspected that Eve’s marriage had not been happy, but Eve had never spoken of it. ‘But what you are doing—you, the most sensible woman I know—alarms me. Had it been anyone other than Lucas Stainton you were to approach for employment, I would not be so concerned.’

Eve laughed brightly. ‘Don’t be. I have made up my mind. It is the best solution—and only temporary. It will be perfect for me and enable me to keep Estelle close at hand. I also find myself concerned for Lord Stainton’s children—they are going to miss Sarah Lacy dreadfully. If their father is still in need of someone to take care of them, I hope to persuade him to consider me for the position.’

Beth frowned and carefully considered her words. ‘Well, he is a very proud man and he doesn’t have the inclination to make himself liked, which is something we both know. His character has many contradictions and, I suppose, if you are set on going ahead with this madcap scheme, then it’s as well you know what you are letting yourself in for.’

Eve frowned. ‘You speak in riddles. I don’t follow you, Beth.’

‘There is another side to the scandal his divorce created. You see, he is a popular figure, but there are drawing rooms where he is admitted, but not welcome—although no one would dare give him the cut direct. At the time of his separation from his wife, some people took her side, saying he was heartless and cruel to divorce the mother of his children.’

‘But she left him to live with his brother. Surely he cannot be blamed for that.’

Beth lifted her brows. ‘Can’t he? You see, some of her friends said he drove her away, that she found it impossible to live with his black moods and that she was afraid of him. Some of the more vicious gossips even went so far as to intimate that he refused to let her see the children.’

‘And was this true?’

‘This piece of slander was repeated, but never credited,’ William was quick to say. ‘However, it has been noted that she is estranged from her children. Some regard Lucas Stainton as a cold, frightening, unapproachable individual—and you have accused him of being cold and aloof yourself, Eve. He is an exacting master who demands only the very best from those he employs—at least such was the case before he had to thin out his servants.’

Eve was thoughtful for a moment. ‘He does become angry easily, but I believe there is good reason for this. He can’t be happy with his situation and because of it he can be just as easily hurt as anyone else. But—did he really deny his wife access to the children?’

‘I don’t know the truth of it, Eve, but I do know that I shall worry about you if you go to live in his house,’ Beth said, reaching out to take Eve’s hand.

‘You needn’t, Beth. I am not afraid of him and I can take care of myself.’ Eve gave Beth’s quiet, fair-haired attractive husband an enquiring look. ‘I believe he’s in the process of selling his London house to move to Laurel Court.’

‘Yes. I don’t believe he has a buyer yet, although it is a fine house and in a prime location, so I have no doubt he will soon have it off his hands.’

‘And he is having to sell because of his brother’s gambling debts?’

William nodded, reaching for a piece of toast. ‘Sadly, Stephen Stainton exhibited a proclivity towards all manner of expensive vices. He gambled all the time—it had nothing to do with having fun, it was an addiction. He lost the astronomical sum of one hundred thousand pounds on one hand of piquet at White’s and offered his estate in payment of the enormous debt. Fortunately his brother stepped in and paid it.’

‘He could afford to?’

‘My word, yes. At that time Lucas Stainton was a wealthy man. He’s a brilliant head for business and was making enormous returns on every investment. Unfortunately it wasn’t the first time he’d had to bail his brother out, but this almost ruined him.’

Eve felt a stirring of admiration for Lord Stainton. ‘Clearing up his brother’s mess while said brother was conducting an affair with his wife was definitely a kindness on his part, and I realise I shall have to reassess my opinion of him. He appears to be rather unapproachable and capable of giving the kind of crushing set-downs that make one cringe. Why, when he accused me of being intoxicated at Lady Ellesmere’s party, so convincing was his attitude that I thought I might be until I remembered taking Beth’s headache powders. It was most humiliating and embarrassing.’

‘And I don’t suppose you can see what women see in him either,’ William teased gently.

‘Yes, I can,’ she responded laughingly. ‘I’ll do him the justice to admit he’s terribly attractive. What is your opinion of him, William?’

‘I like and respect him—I always have. But make no mistake. Whatever that man does, he does on his terms. There isn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t be impervious to him.’

‘There you are, then,’ Eve said, laughing lightly. ‘You are one of the most sensible people I know, William, so I would believe you above all others.’

Beth smiled. ‘Bless you for that, Eve, and I do agree with what you say about my husband. Lucas Stainton is one of the most attractive men on the social scene, a man who stands out among his fellow men. Wherever he goes women strive to please him, for despite his cynical attitude—although some more sensible members of the ton have remarked that he has good reason to be cynical where women are concerned—there is an aura of virility about him that does dangerous things to their hearts.’

‘And how does Lord Stainton react to these adoring females who simper around him? Is there not one among so many who is capable of thawing his cold heart?’

‘Not to my knowledge. Oh, he is no more immune to a pretty face than the next man, but since his divorce he has conducted his affairs with absolute discretion. There are those who know him well, like my own William, who say he inspires esteem and respect because he represents a rare specimen of a nobleman par excellence. On the other hand, there are those who accuse him of being a brute and intolerant of others, and with his droll replies in conversation and stunned expressions, he makes people feel that they are utterly stupid.’

‘Perhaps that’s because they are,’ Eve murmured with a half-smile. ‘As you have just said, Beth, perhaps if they knew him well they would perceive that he is much nicer than he appears.’

Beth looked at her curiously. ‘Eve, what is this? You aren’t enamoured of him after just three encounters, surely?’

‘No,’ Eve replied, laughing at the very idea. ‘Quite the opposite, in fact. My encounters with Lord Stainton were anything but friendly—in fact, I found the man quite insufferable—but I have seen some of the qualities you speak of and I’m willing to take a chance on him—as he might with me.’


Chapter Three

Mrs Brody had been shown into the drawing room. Lucas would have known it was her the moment he entered, even before his eyes lighted on her. It was the perfume she wore—that was the thing he remembered about her—a subtle smell, hardly noticeable at all, but nevertheless a part of her.

Dressed in open-necked shirt and light grey silk waistcoat, Lucas stood surveying her from beneath frowning dark eyebrows.

For a moment Eve stared at him blankly. He watched her in silence, fixing her with a gaze so hard that she quailed. What a strong presence this English lord had. It filled the room, momentarily distracting her from her reason for being there. His bearing was proud and he was a man of uncertain temperament. Eve wondered what dark secrets lay behind that handsome visage.

Normally she was unimpressed with exceptionally handsome men because they were either vain or after her money, but this man was neither. He was thoughtful, intelligent and thoroughly male, positively emanating masculine sensuality. All of these attributes, combined with the fact that he had two adorable motherless children, made Eve decide that he was in every respect the right man she wished to work for. His words brought her back to reality with a jolt.

‘Mrs Brody! You seem to have a propensity for invading my home. What is it this time?’ he asked with mock civility. ‘A mislaid child or dog, or another dressing down?’

‘None of those.’ She could hear defiance in her own voice, which she tried to moderate. ‘How is Abigail? None the worse for her encounter with the tree, I hope?’ she asked in an attempt to ease the situation between them.

‘Abigail is very well considering, Mrs Brody.’

‘Then I’m relieved to hear it.’

‘I suspect you are not here to ask about Abigail. This is a surprise.’

‘And not a very pleasant one, I take it, Lord Stainton?’

‘That remains to be seen, though I must admit I had not taken you for a lady who indulged in afternoon calls to gentlemen’s homes. Does visiting friends not keep you busy? I imagined you to be fully occupied from morning till night on the frivolous pastimes with which you ladies fill your days.’

His tone was caustic and his gaze ironic and Eve longed to tell him to go to the devil, but with everything balanced on this interview, and not wishing to antagonise him until she’d told him the reason for her visit, with great self-control she managed to smile politely.

‘As a matter of fact, I prefer to fill my time with more worthwhile pursuits, but I hardly think you would spend your time light-mindedly thinking of what I do with my time, Lord Stainton.’

‘Oh, and why is that, Mrs Brody?’

‘It is merely an impression you give. The picture I have of you in my mind is of a man who does not employ himself with useless thoughts of other people.’

‘Really. I had no idea you had any picture of me in your mind at all, Mrs Brody. In fact, as we have only seen each other on four occasions, I fail to see how you have had time to form any opinion at all.’

‘Oh, I can be charitable when I want to be, Lord Stainton—although I am certainly no saint. Far from it, in fact. My father was for ever telling me that I am not a lady, for I have this awkward habit of arguing when I should be listening and speaking my mind when I should be quiet. Our previous encounters have been unfortunate, and the one at Lady Ellesmere’s a misunderstanding. We—do seem to have got off on the wrong foot.’

‘Don’t we just.’

Not to be put off, she ploughed on. ‘I…have given our unfortunate encounters—and your predicament—some thought, Lord Stainton.’

‘Indeed!’ With narrowed, shuttered eyes focused on her face, he moved closer, looming over her. ‘My predicament! And you know all about that, do you?’

‘I know that Miss Lacy is to leave your employment very soon and that you must be concerned for your children’s future well being.’

The muscles of his face tightened and a hard gleam entered his eyes. ‘Prying into my affairs is a tasteless invasion of my privacy, Mrs Brody. I am very grateful for your concern, but I can assure you I don’t need it.’

Eve began to feel her spirits drop. ‘I see. So you have already found a replacement.’

‘No, as a matter of fact I have not—at least not yet.’ Lucas was becoming extremely frustrated at the difficulty he was having trying to find a suitable nursemaid. There were plenty of available women well qualified in looking after children, but none of them seemed willing to take on the position of working for the formidable Lord Stainton. Only two had approached him. One had the hard features of a harridan he would never consider letting close to his children, and he was sure there had been the smell of drink about the other.

‘Then perhaps I can be of help.’

‘You? Mrs Brody, am I supposed to be impressed or flattered by your show of interest in me and my affairs? Dear me, what a persistent busybody you are.’

‘I have a proposition to put to you, Lord Stainton,’ she went on, ignoring his sarcastic diatribe and looking him straight in the eye, ‘a proposition that may be of benefit to us both.’

Resting his hips against a rather splendid walnut desk, the only piece of furniture left in the room, he regarded her coldly. ‘I am intrigued.’

Eve wasn’t sure how to interpret his tone. She waited for him to ask her to go on, but instead he folded his arms and stared at her, looking oddly impatient. She’d gone over what she wanted to say to him so many times that she was afraid it was going to sound like a well-rehearsed speech, and now the moment had arrived it came out in one sentence.

‘I would like to apply for the position as nursemaid to your children.’

‘What?’ His amazement was genuine and he looked at her incredulously. ‘You?’

Eve felt a wave of desperation as she strove for control and to calm her mounting fears. ‘As mad and impossible as it seems to you, yes, me.’

‘Mrs Brody! Is this your idea of a joke?’

Eve stiffened and lifted her chin. ‘A joke? I find nothing amusing, Lord Stainton. I have given the matter a great deal of thought and it’s a solution I am sure would suit us both.’

Recovering from the shock her suggestion had caused, Lucas burst out laughing unpleasantly, his reaction telling her that her application was not only ridiculous, but laughingly so. ‘You, of all people, want to look after my children?’

Eve flushed violently. This arrogant Englishman had a habit of crushing her with shame and anger, but she refused to retreat now she had come so far. ‘There is nothing unusual in it, Sir. I like children—indeed, I have one of my own, as you know. I am eminently suitable to be a nursemaid and have the advantage of having met Sophie and Abigail. They are two beautiful girls and I get on with them well.’

‘Yes, I saw that in the park,’ Lucas was forced to concede, having dwelt on the charming picture that had remained in his mind of Mrs Brody comforting Abigail with soft words as she held her close. ‘But—forgive me if I seem somewhat perplexed. You see, I have been led to believe that you are a wealthy woman, Mrs Brody, in which case I am bewildered as to why you should be seeking such lowly employment.’

‘I do not consider looking after children to be a lowly occupation, Lord Stainton—quite the opposite, in fact. It is a worthwhile and rewarding profession. It is true that my father was a wealthy man—and as his only child that wealth will pass to me. Unfortunately, there are legal matters to be taken care of in America, and until such time as the money is made available to me, I find myself in—unfortunate circumstances. I also have a daughter to raise. It is a situation that makes it necessary for me to seek employment.’

He looked at her hard, and after a pause he snapped, ‘Temporary employment by the sound of it. I am not interested in setting someone on who will see it only as a short-term post, Mrs Brody, someone who will up and leave when she no longer has the need to stay.’

Eve felt hesitant, slightly uncertain, as well she might, in the face of such cold regard. ‘Yes—I suppose it would be temporary, but this might be the case with whomever you employ. I can assure you that I would not leave until you had found someone else. Of course, I realise you will need time to consider my proposition.’

He spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes hard. ‘I have. It took precisely one second. The answer is no.’

Their eyes locked.

‘I see. Won’t you at least consider it?’

‘There is no question of it.’ Biting down visibly on his impatience, he brought himself to his full height. ‘I have no place in my house for a woman of volatile temperament and who has no regard for her employer or his children that she would leave without a thought of how it might hurt their tender feelings. That said, the interview is concluded and I think it would be better for us both if you left.’

Eve clenched her hands tightly. When she had come here, her objective had seemed close within her reach, but now was as remote as ever. ‘Really, Lord Stainton, my proposition cannot be as dreadful as all that. I would not intentionally do anything to hurt your children. I am offering to look after them, to give you the perfect answer to your dilemma, and you are reacting as though I have suggested I commit murder.’

‘As I might, if you remain here a moment longer. So, before you insult me further, Mrs Brody, with any more of your outrageous proposals, I would be grateful if you would leave my house.’ He saw the banked fires leaping dangerously into flames in her eyes, and he deliberately threw verbal oil at her. ‘I am sure after your time in America you are ignorant of such things as etiquette, but the English place great importance on such matters. Take my advice and learn the rules before you go knocking on any more doors and offering your services. You may get more than you bargained for.’

His volatile anger was tangible, frightening and completely incomprehensible to Eve, who had never met anyone like him. Shocked into stricken paralysis, she stared at him as the insult hit home. Then her temper exploded and she silenced him with the only means available—she slapped him so hard his head jerked sideways, then she took an automatic step back from the ice-cold fury in his eyes.

‘How dare you insult me when I came here with nothing but good intentions? I will not tolerate it. Contrary to what you might or might not think of me, sir, I am not a savage. Perhaps my fellow Americans are to you. If so, then that might explain how we managed to beat you in the war we fought for our independence.’

Lucas’s jaw tightened and his eyes were glacial. ‘Try anything like that again and I will personally throw you out on to the street while your hand is in the air,’ he said, icily and evenly. ‘I am a survivor, Mrs Brody, and I have an ugly temper when roused. Don’t test me any further.’

His tone was implacable and left no room for argument. ‘Very well. I’ll go. I’m sorry to have inflicted myself on you.’ Still fuming, taking a card from her reticule she held it out to him. When he made no move to take it, she slapped it down on the desk, refusing to give up on him or his children just yet. ‘However, when you’ve had time to come to your senses, to calm down and think more rationally, you may see things differently. This is where I am staying—should you change your mind.’

With nothing more than a quick nod, with her head held high and a swish of her skirts she took her leave. As she left the house she understood that his decision was irrevocable.

‘Well, what did he say?’ Beth asked, having waited impatiently for Eve to get back from Upper Brook Street. ‘Did he agree to your application, or did he think you were mad?’

‘I’m sure he did think I was mad, Beth. He refused. Absolutely.’ In frustration Eve strode past Beth into the drawing room. ‘He accused me of being an ignorant American, saying that my proposition was quite outrageous—and a great deal more that I won’t offend your sensibilities by repeating. The man’s an overpowering, conceited beast.’

‘And what did you say?’

‘I slapped his face.’

Beth stared at her in shocked disbelief. ‘You slapped Lord Stainton?’

‘He deserved it.’

Beth watched Eve pace distractedly across the room. ‘And no doubt he was furious and asked you to leave.’

‘Nothing so genteel, Beth. He didn’t ask, he ordered me out.’

Perturbed, Beth sighed. Histrionics weren’t in Eve’s character and in all their lives she had never seen her friend so put out. After a time she ventured, ‘So—that’s it, then. You won’t be working for Lord Stainton.’

‘It doesn’t look like it. I doubt he’d even consider taking on a woman who had the temerity to slap his face.’

* * *

For the next two days Lucas immersed himself in the usual duties and matters of business, firmly believing that it was the only way he could put Mrs Brody’s visit from his mind, which had unsettled him more than he cared to admit. When Henry Channing arrived, he was grateful for the distraction as he tore his gaze from the letter that had just been delivered.

‘Dear Lord! You call this a house, Lucas?’ Henry remarked, glancing around the almost empty salon. ‘This place looks like a mausoleum—all walls, pillars, statues and space.’

‘What do you expect? I’ve sent most of the furniture and artefacts to be auctioned off.’

Never able to stand still for long, Henry helped himself to a brandy and began to wander about the room. ‘There were some rather fine pieces, as I recall. I may even buy some myself.’

‘Feel free. There are plenty to choose from at Sotheby’s. What brings you here today, Henry? A social call?’

‘Of course. You know how I like your company, dear boy. Although,’ he said, his face losing its jocular expression and becoming serious, ‘I did hear some news at my club in St James’s earlier that might be of interest to you—not good news, I hasten to add.’ When Lucas gave him his full attention, he said, ‘Those two shipping yards on the Thames have gone under, Lucas. I’m sorry.’

Genuine concern for his friend clouded Henry’s eyes. They had known each other since their Cambridge days. Henry had always admired Lucas. He was so controlled, so disciplined and determined, forthright and dynamic, driven in everything he put his mind to. As a businessman he was resourceful. He invested his money wisely, buying stock in new inventions and anything he thought promising with confident expectation of future gains. They usually paid off, again and again.

Unfortunately his brother Stephen had not been so clever. Lucas had told him he could not be expected to subsidise him indefinitely, but, unable to curtail his brother’s extravagance, he bailed him out every time, selling stock until his own affairs had reached the point of crisis. He went from a man of substance to being branded a bad risk, and when some of his own investments went under, losses he could normally have withstood, he accrued tremendous personal loss.

And now the news that two of the shipping yards he had invested in—practically the last thing he had to hold on to—had closed, was the final straw.

‘Good grief, Lucas. You look as if I’ve just handed you a death sentence.’

‘Perhaps you have.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Henry realised that this was the worst possible time for Lucas. Suddenly alarm sprang into his eyes. ‘I say, you’re not—I mean, you won’t—’

‘What? Shoot myself?’ A cynical smile curved Lucas’s lips. ‘Nothing so easy. I have my daughters to consider. Their mother may have deserted them, but I will not.’ Looking down at the letter in his hand, he became thoughtful.

‘What is it about that letter that seems to hold your interest, Lucas?’

‘I’m not sure. It’s just arrived from my brother’s solicitor along with the deeds to some land in the north-east.’

‘I didn’t know you owned land in my neck of the woods.’

‘I don’t. Apparently it’s a parcel of land Stephen won off a landowner up in Newcastle—who is now no longer with us.’

‘I see. It sounds interesting. As you know, my own family have been making a profit from coal for decades in those parts. What will you do? Sell it? My father might be happy to make you an offer.’

Lucas shook his head. ‘I won’t sell it, not if there’s coal to be got—at least not until I’ve made some enquiries. I’ll contact a mining engineer to have it checked out.’ His lips curved in an ironic smile. ‘You never know, Henry, it might put me back on the road to recovery.’

‘I sincerely hope so, Lucas. You always did find making money easy. I have no doubt at all that you will soon be over this present crisis and back on your feet. I wish you luck, and if you do go up there then my home is at your disposal. In the meantime, are you able to carry on?’

‘Not for long—but at the moment my prime concern is finding a new nursemaid for Sophie and Abigail before I leave for Laurel Court.’

‘Which is when?’

‘As soon as possible. I haven’t been to the old place since before Stephen died. Eventually I intend moving there permanently, but first I must go and inspect the place. Lord knows what condition it’s in, although any repairs that need doing will have to wait until I’m solvent.’

‘I would have thought you’d have no problem getting a nursemaid.’

‘So did I, but it’s proving to be more difficult than I thought it would be. I’ve seen several, but none that was suitable—although, perhaps there was one.’

‘Then ask her to come again and see how she gets on with the children.’

‘Oh, she gets on with them—and they adore her.’

‘Then what’s the problem? Who is she?’

‘Mrs Brody.’

Henry almost choked on his brandy. Uttering a sound of disbelief, he stared at him. ‘The Mrs Brody?’ he asked, astounded when Lucas nodded. ‘You’re jesting, Lucas. You have to be. Tell me the truth.’

‘On the contrary, Henry, I am in earnest.’ He went on to tell Henry about the American widow’s visit.

‘But—I thought the two of you were at daggers drawn?’

Lucas shook his head. ‘We were, but her application could be of benefit to both of us.’ He smiled wryly. ‘You might say she could be the answer to all my prayers.’

‘But she is an extremely wealthy woman in her own right. Why the devil would a woman like her want to become a hired help?’

Lucas shrugged. ‘She has her reasons.’

‘And will you take her on?’

‘I haven’t decided. I confess that after giving her application a great deal of thought—and needing someone to replace Miss Lacy within the week—I am sorely tempted, if not desperate.’

Suddenly his gaze lighted on the card Mrs Brody had put down on his desk. Picking it up, he looked at it for a long hard moment. Her face came to mind. She was certainly attractive enough. Indeed, from the moment he had set eyes on her his baser instincts had been stirred. In fact, he couldn’t understand why she could evoke a combustible combination of fury and the desire to know her better in him within minutes of meeting her. Slowly and methodically he began reviewing the American widow’s serious proposition, making two lists in his mind—one for accepting her offer and one against. The former won.

* * *

By the time Lucas reached the Seagrove residence and was shown inside, frustration and suspense had twisted every muscle of his body into knots. His voice, demanding to see Mrs Brody, echoed through the house from the hallway, his presence like a strong wind blowing through the quiet rooms, bringing everything that was masculine and loud into the unruffled and well-ordered running of the house.

Eve came out of the drawing room to see who the visitor was, and in a flash her tranquillity was swept away. She could feel the very air move forcefully and snap with a restless intensity that Lucas Stainton seemed to discharge. Clad in an immaculately fitting dark-green coat that deepened his swarthy complexion and turned his eyes to the colour of light blue steel, he looked lethally handsome and incredibly alluring.

‘Lord Stainton!’

‘I would like a word with you, Mrs Brody.’

Lucas strode across the hall and walked straight past her into the drawing room, skirting the hovering servant as if she were not there. ‘Leave us.’

His command was peremptory and the servant stepped back in shock. She glanced at Eve, seeking permission to leave, but Eve was not looking at her. Her eyes were fixed on her visitor. When the drawing-room door closed, shaking her head, the usually slow-moving servant slipped away at a faster pace.

‘We have to talk,’ Lucas said without preamble, striding into the centre of the room where he turned and looked at Eve. ‘There are things we have to discuss.’

Eve raised her brows. His arrival indicated that her proposition had pricked his interest, providing her with the opportunity to chip away at his defences. Her spirits were lifted a little. ‘We do?’

‘Whatever I thought of your audacity to come to my house and offer yourself to look after my children, I should have had the courtesy to listen to you.’

‘Yes, you should. It was most ungentlemanly of you to order me out of the house the way you did.’

A wry smile added to his hard features. ‘According to your blistering tirade, I haven’t done anything to give you the impression that I am a gentleman.’

Eve stared at him, her anger forgotten. ‘No, you have not. Are you apologising?’

He looked puzzled for a moment, then he nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘Then I apologise for slapping you. It was most undignified of me and I should have known better.’

‘Do you regret it?’

Eve lifted her brows, eyeing him with an impenitent smile. ‘No. You deserved it.’

‘You’re right,’ he admitted, ‘but don’t push your luck.’

A sudden smile dawned across his face and Eve’s heart skipped a beat. Lord Stainton had a smile that could melt an iceberg—when he chose to use it.

‘When you had left, I was afraid I might have been too harsh and it was unforgivable of me to ask you to leave so abruptly.’

For a moment Eve was too stunned to speak. ‘And now? Are you willing to listen to me and consider seriously my application?’ she managed to say in response.

‘Yes, I am, but I am a cautious man and there are many aspects to consider.’

She shot a glance at him beneath her lashes, and because he seemed to be genuinely interested and approachable for the first time, she continued haltingly, ‘Before…we go any further, I… would like you to know that I don’t usually go around knocking on gentlemen’s doors. Yours was the first and will definitely be the last.’

He grinned, his features relaxing. ‘I’m relieved to hear it.’

Lucas folded his arms casually across his chest. She was standing with her back to the door, surveying him with a steady gaze. For a moment he was taken aback by the sheer magnetism of her presence. She was dressed in a riding habit of midnight blue velvet, her hair arranged in glossy twists and curls about her well-shaped head that made it look like a beacon of light, and in that room of gentle shades she was a vibrant reminder that life went on.

Hers was a dangerous kind of beauty, for she had the power to touch upon a man’s vulnerability with a flash of her dark blue eyes. Holding his gaze with her challenging stare and quietly determined manner, she crossed towards him with a smooth fluid grace and he felt suddenly exposed. He was staring at her, he realised, but he couldn’t help himself. He was unsure why he was so quick to anger when he was with her. Perhaps unlike so many other women—excluding Maxine—she refused to be intimidated or impressed by him. Maybe she even disliked him a little. The thought hurt.

Their eyes met, measuring each other up, thoughtfully, calculating, aware of the differences in their backgrounds, but aware, too, of a personal interaction.

‘It seems I am in your debt, Mrs Brody, and I apologise for not having thanked you before now.’

‘Thanked me? For what?’

‘You took care of Miss Lacy when she was feeling unwell, the day you met in the park, and took the trouble to see her and the children home safely.’

Eve smiled. ‘I merely did what any caring citizen would have done.’

‘It was a kindness. Thank you. Now, about our last meeting—’

‘You were angry and harsh,’ she cut in. ‘But now you have had time to consider what I proposed, I hope you realise there was some sense in it.’

He nodded. ‘What you propose does make sense—even though it would be a temporary arrangement. In that I thank you for being honest with me.’

‘That is my way. I come from a proud family with background and tradition, and respectability.’ She smiled slightly. ‘I do not underestimate your intelligence and knew full well when I went to see you that you wouldn’t agree to my proposition outright. Anything you wish to know about me you only have to ask Beth and William Seagrove.’

‘I would like you to tell me why you think I should employ you, Mrs Brody, what desirable attributes you possess that makes you so certain you are capable of looking after my daughters.’

‘Well, I am intelligent and sensible and I excel at whatever I put my mind to. I am well read and speak French and Latin and a little Greek—and I sew a fine seam.’ She smiled, a smile that lit up her eyes. ‘I am also good with children, which surely is what you are looking for in the person you employ. I would look forward to getting to know them. They are quite adorable.’

‘They are?’

He seemed surprised by her remark, which Eve thought strange. ‘Don’t you think so?’

‘Children are children, Mrs Brody.’

‘Not when they are your own.’

He looked at her with narrowed eyes. ‘You—know that I am divorced from their mother—that she walked out on both me and her children?’

‘Yes, and for what it’s worth I am sorry. It—must have been a very difficult time for you.’ Her look was one of understanding. ‘I am offering you a way out, Lord Stainton, and I promise that if you are willing to admit me into your household, when the time comes for me to leave it will be done in such a way as to cause Sophie and Abigail minimum distress.’

Lucas was studying her with interest. He had seen the smile flicker across her eyes and the expression had caught his full attention. For a moment they considered each other thoughtfully before Eve looked away. He was a very handsome man.

‘When can you start?’ Lucas asked suddenly.

‘Start?’

‘Your full-time employment.’

It was said diffidently, but the effect it had on Eve was quite dramatic. Her face, as she stared at her new employer, was young, full of disbelief and a shining hope, showing how much she had wanted this position. ‘Why—I—I hadn’t thought,’ she uttered haltingly, ‘but I suppose I could start right away. When is Sarah—Miss Lacy leaving?’

‘Two days, so it does not give you much time. Come to the house tomorrow—we will discuss your wages and Miss Lacy will familiarise you with things you need to know. You will have full charge of Sophie and Abigail. I want to leave for my home in Oxfordshire four days hence, so there will be preparations to make. It will be a short visit—time enough for me to assess what needs to be done since I have not visited the estate for some time.’

‘And the children?’

‘Are to come with me. A jaunt in the country—the country air and all that—will do them good. You, of course, will accompany them.’

‘And my daughter?’ Eve asked tentatively, realising that she had failed to mention Estelle and that he might consider it inappropriate for the nursemaid’s daughter to be in the company of his own. ‘As much as I want to look after your children, Lord Stainton, I will not be parted from my daughter.’

‘And I would not expect you to be. She can occupy the nursery with Sophie and Abigail. I remember they got on rather well.’

‘Yes—yes, they did.’

‘Good,’ he said, striding to the door, where he turned and looked back at her. ‘Good day, Mrs Brody. I shall expect to see you at my house in the morning at ten o’clock.’

Eve arrived at Lord Stainton’s house the following morning with Estelle. They were expected and admitted by a footman, who immediately went to inform his lordship of their arrival.

The tap of decisive, familiar footsteps warned Eve of Lord Stainton’s approach. Turning quickly, she watched him cross the hall towards her. He smiled, a smile that took her breath away, his pale blue eyes meeting hers.

‘I hope I’m not late,’ she said hurriedly, nervous now he was her employer.

‘You are on time. I always make sure I am punctual for appointments, Mrs Brody, and I expect punctuality in others.’ He shot a look at the footman. ‘Fetch Mrs Coombs. She can show Mrs Brody what’s what.’

‘Mrs Coombs is your housekeeper?’ Eve enquired, holding Estelle’s hand tight.

He nodded. ‘She is, although many years ago she was my nurse. At present I employ eight members of staff. Bennet is my butler of long standing, and Mrs Coombs is my housekeeper and cook, with Nelly the kitchen maid. There are two footmen—not forgetting Miss Lacy and my valet. There is also Herbert Shepherd, my carriage driver. He looks after the few horses I have left. When I decided to sell the house I had to let most of the servants go. There was no point in keeping them on. But here’s Mrs Coombs,’ he said, beckoning the elderly housekeeper who was looking at the new nursemaid with interest.

‘Mrs Coombs, this is Mrs Brody, who is to replace Miss Lacy. Be so good as to show her up to the nursery. I’m sure she’d like to see the children and familiarise herself with everything before Miss Lacy leaves us.’

Mrs Brody’s name was not unfamiliar to Mrs Coombs. She had heard all about the furore between this young woman and his lordship from Miss Lacy and it had caused much talk and laughter among the meagre staff. She had nothing but admiration for the young lady. There weren’t many people who would dare stand up to Lord Stainton, and Mrs Brody had tested both his patience and his temper—which was volatile at the best of times—fearlessly giving as much as she got. Jolly good luck to her, she thought with a pleased little chuckle.




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