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Seducing Miss Lockwood
Helen Dickson


RAKE’S MISTRESS…OR WIFE?Against all advice, Juliet Lockwood is intent on working in the household of Lord Dominic Lansdowne – notorious society rake. Rumour has it a different woman warms his bed each night. But that is of no concern to prim, proper Miss Lockwood!Dominic Lansdowne may have a hardened heart, but contrary to popular belief he’s always been a man of principle – doe-eyed innocents are not for him. But this new addition to his staff is pure forbidden temptation… Honour binds him from seduction…unless, of course, he makes her his wife!







Why did he keep thinking of Miss Lockwood?

Why did her face flash disconcertingly across his vision as it had a habit of doing so often of late? Why did he find himself drawn to the library when he knew she would be working?

How could he let a woman affect him as this one did? He was quite bewildered by it. All he knew was that it was different from anything he had felt before. She was not for him, coming from the class she did, but he could not stop thinking about her.

There was something about Juliet Lockwood—a loveliness not just in her face but in her heart and soul. It shone from her like a beacon. In her naivety she was completely unaware of it, and that was what was so special about her.




About the Author


HELEN DICKSON was born and lives in South Yorkshire with her retired farm manager husband. Having moved out of the busy farmhouse where she raised their two sons, she has more time to indulge in her favourite pastimes. She enjoys being outdoors, travelling, reading and music. An incurable romantic, she writes for pleasure. It was a love of history that drove her to writing historical fiction.

Previous novels by Helen Dickson:

THE DEFIANT DEBUTANTE

ROGUE’S WIDOW, GENTLEMAN’S WIFE

TRAITOR OR TEMPTRESS

WICKED PLEASURES

(part of Christmas By Candlelight) A SCOUNDREL OF CONSEQUENCE FORBIDDEN LORD SCANDALOUS SECRET, DEFIANT BRIDE FROM GOVERNESS TO SOCIETY BRIDE MISTRESS BELOW DECK THE BRIDE WORE SCANDAL

Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks?Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk




Seducing

Miss Lockwood

Helen Dickson





















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




Chapter One


London—1817

The Fleet prison loomed towering and intimidating as Juliet approached the huge doors. Unconsciously drawing her cloak tighter around her, she shuddered as she was admitted. How she hated the place. The guard knew her from her weekly visits and conducted her through the lobby and past the warden’s office and up to her brother’s cell. The guard pocketed the necessary coin she gave him and turned the key to admit her.

Robby was stretched out on a narrow bed, seemingly fast asleep. Thoroughly frustrated by her brother’s inactivity, she shook him roughly by the arm.

‘Robby! Wake up.’

At twenty-eight Robby, her half-brother, was five years Juliet’s senior, but prison had taken something away from him and she was for the moment the strong one, the support, her female instincts for her sibling flooding to comfort, to relieve his suffering, for despite his devil-may-care attitude on the outside, she knew as only a sister can the depth of his pain, his anger and frustration directed at himself for allowing himself to fall so low.

At last, to her relief, he showed signs of stirring. His eyelids flickered in his gaunt face and he stared lazily around him, as if surprised to find himself in prison at all. Then he caught sight of Juliet and his eyes lit up with pleasure.

‘Juliet! I must have dozed off.’ Throwing his legs over the side, he sat up, smoothing his long white fingers through his fair hair.

Robby was in the Fleet because, with an eye for the main chance, he had lived beyond his means. Every opportunity had been expended upon him by their father, and after finishing years of advanced learning he had declared an intense dislike for it and resigned his position as a teacher of history at a prestigious boys’ school in Surrey. At twenty-one, coming into a small inheritance from his mother, he had taken off on the Grand Tour with some of his contemporaries. The money spent, he had returned home.

Living on his wits and boyish charm and possessed of arrogance, pride and a good deal of pigheadedness, he indulged in the usual pastimes open to a gentleman of urbane habits and wealth, spending his nights drinking and carousing and being over-generous to his friends. He was good looking—at least the ladies seemed to think so, for they hung around him like flies and he knew how to charm and coax. But his debts had finally caught up with him and he had ended up in this place.

‘You really should be at some kind of employment, Robby,’ Juliet said, wrinkling her nose with distaste at the dreadful odour that pervaded every corner of the prison, ‘not kicking your heels in this place.’

‘I admit I want to be out of here,’ he murmured, straining at this restriction to his freedom, ‘but what can I do?’

Juliet placed a wrapped bundle on the table. ‘Here, I’ve brought you some food—bread and cheese—and some books to read to help pass the time.’

He grinned at her fondly. ‘You and your books, Juliet. Where would you be without them?’

‘I really don’t know, Robby. Where would either of us be? It’s because of my love of books and what I’ve learned from Father that I’m able to do the work I do. And you may mock, but it’s my knowledge that enables me to pay the guards to provide you with special favours. It’s better than taking in washing, and, if I am to get you out of this dreadful place, I must earn all I can.’

Robby was immediately contrite. ‘Sorry, sis. I know how hard you work and the small luxuries I have are down to you. I am grateful. I’m proud of you. Father would be, too … were he still with us. You’ve proved yourself as resourceful as you are clever. How’s Sir John?’

‘That’s what I’ve come to tell you. I’m leaving his employ, Robby. My work is finished. I’ve found new employment—out of London.’

‘And naturally you’ll be too busy to come and see me.’

It was the undercurrent of disappointment in his voice that touched Juliet. ‘Not too busy, Robby. Too far away. I’m to take up a position for the Duke of Hawksfield in Essex, so I won’t be able to visit you for a while, but I will write often.’

Robby’s look of surprise was quickly followed by one of displeasure. ‘Dominic Lansdowne?’

‘Yes—I believe that is his name.’

‘Well—Dominic Lansdowne of all people!’

‘You know him?’

‘I know of him—a military man, fought in Spain.’ He frowned, suddenly anxious for his sister. ‘He’s also a spectacularly handsome rake, Juliet, superior, arrogant, a despoiler of innocent girls and constantly gossiped about, but rarely seen. If all the stories are to be believed, the Duke of Hawksfield and his friends spend the majority of their time when in town perusing sexual conquests, and when he isn’t in London prowling the gaming halls, he’s roaming the countryside on his stallion searching for a complaisant wench to assuage his appetite.’

Juliet flushed at Robby’s unsavoury description of the man she was to work for. ‘Really, Robby, you paint an unflattering picture of my future employer.’

‘With good cause. Have you met him?’

‘No. He was willing to employ me on Sir John’s recommendation and my written application. He can’t possibly be as dissolute as you have painted him.’

‘I’m sorry, Juliet, but that’s the way he is. You mean the world to me and I care about you—what happens to you. I know how independent you are, but when it comes to men like Dominic Lansdowne, then you are way out of your league. The ladies love him. Be wary. He’ll not make you a duchess.’

‘I don’t want to be a duchess, Robby. I only want to earn enough money to make your life bearable while you are in this place. Another few months and you’ll be out.’

She left, leaving her brother lost in his own depressed thoughts.

As Juliet left the town of Brentwood in Essex the wind had risen, bringing with it a cold, dense rain that whipped against her face. Her bonnet was soon soaked, as was her cloak and her dress beneath, and saturated strands of hair clung to her face. Mr Carter, whose trap she was in, handed her a rug.

‘Sorry about the weather, miss, but don’t worry. We’ll soon be at Lansdowne House.’

‘I do hope so, Mr Carter. I really do, otherwise I dread to think what I shall look like when I get there. I only hope we arrive before dark.’

Gratefully she took the proffered rug and draped it about her shoulders, hunching her back against the downpour. Disregarding the water trapped in the folds of her sodden collar, she did her best to ignore the discomforts of the weather, concentrating wholly upon the route they were following.

When at last she caught sight of some tall, wrought-iron gates ahead, she breathed a sigh of relief. Passing through them, they followed a curved drive. The house at the end of it looked enormous, very impressive and very grand, which was what one would expect a duke’s house to be. It was three-storeyed, with leaded windows and a white marble portico in front.

Mr Carter halted at the entrance and climbed down, going to assist his passenger. The hem of Juliet’s cloak became caught on a nail on the side of the trap. Pulling at it in exasperation, she uttered a cry of dismay when she heard it rip. Knowing there was nothing to be done, with a resigned sigh she followed Mr Carter to the door.

‘Thank you, Mr Carter,’ she said as he set her trunk down. ‘You’d best be getting back. It will soon be dark and you still have a way to go before you reach your home. I’ll be all right now.’

She watched him go before turning her attention to the door. She had been anticipating this moment for days, and now it was here she was strangely reluctant to enter. With butterflies in her stomach—a mixture of nerves and excitement—she lifted the highly polished brass knocker shaped in a lion’s paw. Letting it fall loudly, she waited.

There was no sound from within, which she thought strange for a house as grand as this. After letting the knocker fall again and still getting no response, she turned the knob and pushed. It opened soundlessly. Sternly quelling a tremor of apprehension and stepping inside the house, she looked around. There wasn’t a servant in sight.

It was a magnificent house, she thought as she moved into the centre of the spacious and elegant hall—a palace, that made her feel even smaller and more insignificant than she already felt, as she dripped water all over the floor. Straight ahead was a sweeping central staircase, the handrails highly polished and glinting in the diffused light of the chandelier. The walls were hung with paintings: men in military uniform, family portraits, scenes of days gone by. Seeing a door slightly ajar, with her heart pounding a nervous tattoo within her chest, she went towards it and opened it further, realising her mistake when it was too late.

All but one pair of eyes moved as one, as if in slow motion, to look at her. It was like a bizarre tableau. The man at the head of a table littered with nutshells and orange peel and glasses and bottles, the air thick with tobacco smoke, was the last to turn his head and look at her, his face a picture of irritated bewilderment. What he saw was the bedraggled figure of a woman in a sodden cloak with its torn hem trailing on the floor. Wet strands of hair clung to her face and a small feather in her bonnet drooped pathetically.

Dominic Lansdowne, the seventh Duke of Hawksfield, knew all the servants in his house, if not by name then by sight, and he didn’t know the woman in the doorway. If she was looking for the domestic quarters, then she had lost her way.

‘Oh—please excuse me. I’m sorry to intrude upon you like this. I really didn’t mean to. I—appear to be lost.’

Her appearance caused a stir of lewd and bawdy comments from five young men at the table, who, because of a good day shooting birds on the Duke’s estate, were already in their cups. Not so the man seated at the head of the table, who gave his guests a look of bored nonchalance and the supreme indifference of the true aristocrat.

His authority was obvious, a man used to giving orders and having them obeyed. Juliet felt a prickling of unease. It wasn’t just his fine clothes and bearing that marked him out. Even from a distance she could feel the force of his personality and charisma.

Rising from his chair, he sauntered indolently towards her.

He was tall and lean of waist and hip and of powerful build, with broad shoulders, the body of a soldier, an adventurer rather than an aesthete. His hair was thick and shining black, curling vigorously in the nape of his neck. He was clean shaven and amber skinned, and dark clipped eyebrows sat above silver-grey eyes with pupils as black as coal.

He was an attractive man, his face strong, his mouth stubborn and his chin arrogant. But there was a hint of humour in the curl of his lips, which told Juliet he took pleasure from life. He had removed his jacket and his silk waistcoat was unbuttoned, his shirt thrown open at the neck. Towering over her, he said, ‘And you are?’

‘Miss Lockwood.’ She was very pale and her expression seemed strained, but her candid dark eyes met the Duke’s with almost innocent steadfastness. His eyes held hers entrapped, and hidden in them was amusement, watchful, penetrating and mocking, as though he held the world an amusing place to be. ‘I—am sorry to arrive unannounced, but there was no one on the door to let me in.’

Dominic uttered a sound of annoyance and stepped briskly round her. Peering into the hall, he shouted for someone called Pearce.

‘I was not expecting you until tomorrow, Miss Lockwood.’

‘Yes, I know, but I arrived in Brentwood early and didn’t think you would mind if I came here straight away,’ she explained, the truth being that the accommodation in Brentwood was expensive and she had wanted to conserve her limited capital.

‘And you have come directly from London—from Sir John Moore?’

‘Yes, your Grace.’ Juliet felt uncharacteristically daunted. She had been her own mistress for so long she was used to being in command, but there was something rather disconcerting about this man’s self-assurance.

‘And Sir John is well?’

‘Yes, perfectly.’

When a loud guffaw rose from the table, irritated, Dominic looked at his friends. ‘I must apologise, Miss Lockwood,’ he said on a dry note. ‘It’s the shooting season, you see, and it’s been a long day for all concerned.’

‘And a damned enjoyable one, too,’ one of the gentlemen piped up, taking a long swallow of his brandy.

Juliet couldn’t see what being a long day had to do with anything, but didn’t dare say so. Her gaze was drawn to the people seated at the table. Endowed from birth with financial provision made them the superior beings they so obviously thought themselves to be. They possessed also the glorious belief that they were unique in the world. They were all lounging lazily in their chairs with a bored languor, having become quiet and eyeing her rudely, as if sensing something about her which promised to be entertaining. Their neck linen had either been removed or unfastened, and their clothes and hair were in disarray.

She was disconcerted at being subjected for the first time in her life to a situation like this, to being visually harassed by such poor specimens of men as these, and she felt a surge of resentment that they were having fun at her expense. Certainly she was not used to people like this. She had been at the Academy with girls who had rich and influential parents, but that’s where it ended.

One gentleman, Thomas Howard, drew deeply on his cigar, the smoke wreathing about his head, and another had an attractive-looking fair-haired young woman seated close beside him. Lifting his quizzing glass to his eye, he trained it upon Juliet and boldly inspected her.

‘Good Lord! Who is this unkempt creature, Dominic? Lost her way, has she? Doesn’t she know to use the back door?’

‘Shut up, Sedgwick,’ Dominic said. ‘You’re being outrageous, exceedingly rude and embarrassing Miss Lockwood.’

‘But servants never enter a gentleman’s house by the front door,’ the woman commented, her voice sounding like a purr, ‘unless, of course, she’s new to service and doesn’t know any better.’

Juliet’s eyes narrowed and anger stirred inside her. ‘I am Lord Lansdowne’s employee, not his servant,’ she was quick to retort.

The woman looked at Juliet with a malicious twist to her lips and an uninterested shrug of her shapely shoulders. ‘What’s the difference? If he pays your wages, you are the hired help.’

‘Enough, Geraldine,’ Dominic chided, his smile softening the reproach. ‘Please remember your manners.’

Juliet was beginning to doubt that this Geraldine had any. The woman was sumptuously attired in a deep pink silk gown with an overskirt of pink net lace sewn liberally with tiny pink beads that twinkled in the light. The bodice was so low as to prove an almost inadequate restraint to the swelling ripeness of her breasts. Her hair was auburn and adorned with diamond pins. Around her throat she wore a gold necklace inset with blood-red rubies. The stone cast a rosy light upon her white flesh and Juliet felt a total inadequacy stir within her.

Sedgwick smiled, his smooth face easily accommodating the ingratiating expression. ‘Then let your—employee come and join us? It could be fun.’ His voice was low and laced with mockery. His fingers rhythmically stroked the stem of his glass and his knowing eyes bore into her.

The beautiful woman laughed softly, provocatively. ‘Don’t be lewd, my darling. Can’t you see the poor girl is positively terrified? Better she should be directed to the kitchen.’

Dominic saw the horror and shock that flashed across Miss Lockwood’s face. ‘Pay no attention to Sedgwick. He’s not normally rude, but his manners are somewhat lacking at present.’

He was amazed at his own concern, for what did he care about a woman he had never met? Perhaps it was because of her wretched appearance, or because she was to undertake a project that was important to him and he didn’t want her bolting for the door before she had taken up her post. Whatever it was, it annoyed him slightly, since he didn’t really have the patience to be fretting himself over a woman he did not know.

Sedgwick reached out and trailed his skilled fingers down the soft nape of Geraldine’s neck. She sighed and arched with pleasure, like a cat, Juliet thought.

‘Ah, Charles, you know what I like.’

He chuckled low and leaned over to trail his lips where his fingers had been before.

Juliet watched, unable to tear her eyes away. Never had she seen anything so blatant, so decadent, so—so disgraceful. She felt she was about to collapse, not because her sensibilities had been shocked, but from a swift rush of anger such as she had never before experienced in her life.

Now she was being possessed of another strange emotion. She had never hated anything or anyone, but at this moment she became so afraid of the intensity of the feeling that was causing her heart to beat violently, that she dropped her gaze from the rude woman and down at her tightly clasped gloved hands that were gripping each other so that her knuckles stood out through the material.

She had ceased to see what was in front of her, for her gaze had turned inwards and she was seeing herself as she must look to this roomful of fashionable people—dull, soaked, her soiled boots and ripped cloak with its muddy hem giving her the appearance of a vagrant.

Witnessing the birth of a new creature, someone born out of frightening emotions, all she wanted to do was strike the mocking smile from the woman’s lips, to rush towards her and topple her from her chair on to the floor. All eyes were watching her.

Thankfully at that moment the butler appeared. For once Pearce, usually the picture of dignified calm, looked somewhat flustered as he fumbled to do up the buttons on his waistcoat, which he had unfastened when he had gone to sit in a comfortable position with Mrs Reed, the cook of many years, in front of the kitchen stove, hoping for an hour or two’s respite while the young gentlemen seemed intent on getting more inebriated than they already were, which was certainly nothing new when they had spent the day shooting at birds or galloping after the fox during the hunting season.

‘There was no one on duty at the door, Pearce,’ Dominic said sharply but without reproach. ‘Miss Lockwood had to let herself in.’

Somewhat disconcerted, Pearce allowed his features to relapse momentarily into an expression of disbelief. Then, his lips pursed in a suitable disdain, he said, ‘I apologise, your Grace.’

‘I think your apology should be directed at Miss Lockwood, Pearce. Show her to her room and make sure she has everything she requires.’

‘Yes, your Grace. Miss Lockwood’s room is prepared.’

Dominic looked down at his new employee. ‘Goodnight, Miss Lockwood. I hope you have a comfortable night. I’ll see you in the library in the morning. Nine o’clock sharp.’

‘Yes, of course.’

Pearce half-turned to Juliet. ‘If you would come this way.’

‘Thank you. If you gentlemen will excuse me.’ Juliet’s voice was low, cool and slightly contemptuous as her eyes passed over them, before she turned about and went out.

Pearce was already walking away. When the door closed behind her, for a moment there was silence, and then, as if on cue, that roomful of ugly people erupted in loud guffaws of laughter.

‘Good Lord, Dominic,’ Sedgwick cried, loud enough for her to hear, ‘I doubt you will be tempted in that direction. Why, the girl’s pathetic, as plain as a pike staff and—’

‘I know, Sedgwick, and with no feminine appeal what-so-ever and more unfashionable than Farmer Shepherd’s scarecrow,’ the Duke interrupted, laughter not far away.

Juliet seethed.

A scarecrow!

Upon her soul, she couldn’t remember ever being so humiliated. Having no wish to hear more, she turned away and strode after Pearce, unable to force any coherent thought to the forefront of her mind. She was dazed, numb. All she could hear over and over again was the carelessly brutal opinion of her spoken in jest by the man she was to work for.

It wasn’t until she found herself traversing the many corridors and staircases of Lansdowne House that the anger in her began to subside, and, like a mist clearing from her eyes, she looked at her situation. But as she did so a sickness assailed her, for she knew that no matter how she came to view her employer, there would remain in her an intense dislike of him while ever she remained beneath his roof. If she had any alternative, she would leave right now, but, she thought as she suddenly shivered and sneezed, she needed the work and a roof over her head and the money to help Robby, so for the present she would have to bite the bit and put up with it.

Pearce turned and gave her a baleful look. ‘Oh dear, Miss Lockwood. I do hope you haven’t caught a chill.’

‘So do I,’ Juliet murmured, fumbling for her handkerchief as she sneezed again and felt the beginnings of a stabbing headache.

Alone, she looked at the room that was to be her home for the next few months. It was a well-appointed chamber, both handsome and comfortable with a large bed, overlooking the lawns to the south of the house. It was close to the servants’ quarters, yet far enough away to make her different in their eyes. She sighed. As if she didn’t have enough to contend with without resentment from the domestic staff.

Feeling her headache getting worse, she poured herself some water from the pitcher and drank thirstily. When a footman brought her valise she quickly unpacked and got ready for bed, relieved when she finally slipped between the cool sheets. She closed her eyes to stop the hazy waves in front of her eyes, feeling herself slipping into a swirling mass.

The next thing Juliet heard was a knocking on her bedroom door. Her bemused mind refused to function, preferring the anaesthesia of sleep. When the knocking continued, she struggled to open her eyes. Sunlight slanting through the windows almost blinded her and she quickly closed them again.

Realising she had slept through the night, she tried to remember where she was, and then she remembered and groaned. How could she be so unfortunate as to fall ill on her first day in her new position? Her eyes hurt so much, and her throat was so sore—in fact, everything was hurting, from the top of her head to the soles of her feet.

The knocking became persistent, accompanied by a voice. ‘Please, Miss Lockwood, say something.’

Juliet groaned again. What did the woman want?

Why on earth was she being bothered when all she wanted to do was to go back to sleep?

‘Please—come in,’ she managed to croak—too late, for whoever it was had gone.

Dominic strode into the library at nine o’clock exactly, fully expecting to find Miss Lockwood to be waiting for him. Sunlight sifted through the windows, casting a golden glow across the highly polished round table in the centre of the room. He stopped and looked around. The room was empty. Miss Lockwood was not there.

And so he waited, pacing the carpet as he struggled with his mounting annoyance at being made to wait. He was not known for his patience. Where the hell was she? He had the most ridiculous notion that she had been so hurt and humiliated by his friends’ loose banter last night that today she was demonstrating her rebellion against him by being late to begin her work.

Striding swiftly across the room, he jerked the bell rope. Almost immediately, Dolly, one of the chambermaids, answered his summons. When he enquired after Miss Lockwood, she paled and swallowed nervously.

‘I—I’ve just been to her room, your Grace, but there was no answer. I—I think she must have overslept.’

Astounded, he stared at her, his anger and frustration mounting. ‘Overslept? Oh, for God’s sake!’ he exploded, heading for the door. ‘Which room has she been allocated? Show me.’

‘Y-yes, your Grace.’

Dolly skittered off, the Duke stalking hard on her heels. Servants going about their duties stopped to stare, wondering what could possibly be amiss to raise his Grace to such a fury so early in the morning.

After rapping on Miss Lockwood’s door, Dominic turned the knob and flung it open, seeing the young woman was indeed still abed and feeling himself about to explode. His brows snapped together as he stared down at her. She was lying on her stomach, her face, hidden by her mass of dark hair, turned away from him on the pillow.

‘I’m sorry to wake you, Miss Lockwood. You’ve made your point,’ he told her curtly. ‘Now I’ll make mine. I did not employ you so that you could idle your days away in bed. I said nine o’clock and I meant nine o’clock—not one minute later. Now, if you are not out of that bed and in the library in fifteen minutes, you can pack your bags and get out.’

Juliet became aware of a presence in the room as she floated in a swirling grey mist, drifting in and out of sleep, her mind registering mild confusion.

Reining in his temper with a supreme effort, Dominic said icily, ‘If you have anything to say by way of explanation that will soften my attitude to you, then you’d be wise to speak out now.’

Juliet’s tousled head raised itself off the pillow. She tried to bring the world back into focus. On seeing the figure at the bottom of the bed, hands on hips, glaring like some forbidding black thundercloud, slowly she sat up, pushed back her hair and then the covers and put her legs over the side of the bed. With a racking cough and her eyes streaming, she eased herself to her feet and took a few steps.

‘I—I’m sorry,’ she managed to whisper. ‘I—I don’t feel well …’

‘Miss Lockwood?’

The voice was insistent, cold and commanding and vaguely familiar. He was speaking to her. She forced her eyes open and blinked, trying to focus, but her vision was blurry. The floor lurched and pitched beneath her and she swayed like Robby when he’d drunk a drop too much. A terrible dizziness assailed her and, putting her hand to her head, she crumpled to the carpet.

‘Good God! You’re ill.’

Juliet was disconcerted, but eternally grateful when strong arms lifted her, when a man’s voice she had come to recognise called for someone to call Dr Nevis. When she was carried as though she weighed no more than a feather, which, to the man, she didn’t, to the bed and returned her to her warm cocoon, knowing she was safe, she couldn’t have said why, she let herself drift away, allowing the now gentle voice of the man to say what he pleased.

Juliet awoke to the sounds of someone moving about the room. Though her eyes were still closed, she was conscious of a shaft of light glowing red through her eyelids. She stretched and yawned, warm and rested and with a growing sense of well being, and with no sign of the dreadful headache that had plagued her when she had become ill.

For a while she lay listening to the rare sounds that broke the deep silence of the countryside. The dawn chorus of the birds and the sloughing of the wind as it sifted through the trees were more pleasant by far than the sounds of the vendors and the traffic of London streets.

Opening her eyes she turned her head, the movement attracting the attention of the maid bending over a tray. Suddenly everything became clear and she groaned. The maid, in a starched black dress, white apron and white cap, came and looked down at her, her round young face lit by a cheerful smile.

‘Well, miss, feeling better, are you?’ Dolly asked, her voice soft spoken. ‘You gave us a rare fright, you did, especially the Duke.’

‘Yes,’ Juliet managed to say. ‘I’m feeling much better …’

‘Dolly, miss. My name is Dolly Fletcher.’

‘Dolly, and I’m sorry to have been so much trouble.’

‘Nay, don’t say that. You’ve been no trouble, and it wasn’t your fault you were poorly. ‘Twas the soaking you got that did it. Wet through you were.’

‘The—the doctor came. I seem to remember …’

‘He did, miss, on the Duke’s insistence—right worried he was too—the Duke, I mean. Doctor Nevis left some potions that brought your fever down and here you are, better in a flash.’

‘How long have I been in bed?’

‘Two days—so I expect you’re ready for something to eat. I thought I saw you stir when I looked in on you earlier so I’ve brought you some tea.’ Dolly poured her a cup and carried it to the bed as Juliet struggled to sit up. ‘You can drink it while I fetch you some milk and eggs—and I’ll just inform the Duke on the way to the kitchen.’

Taking the proffered cup, Juliet looked at her sharply. ‘The Duke? Inform him about what?’

‘He made me promise to tell him the minute you woke up. Right concerned he’s been, asking after you all the time.’

‘No doubt that’s because he’s impatient for me to start work,’ Juliet murmured, taking a sip of the warm beverage, the memory of her unpleasant arrival at Lansdowne House returning in all its humiliating clarity.

Resilience came to the fore, for a young woman who tried never to allow things to get her down showed a champion’s resolve to fight back. Though the anger still lingered and she felt a deep resentment towards those utterly spoilt young men and the woman called Geraldine, she was determined not to let it affect her work.

The following day Juliet could get out of bed and walk about, and later the same day, feeling the need for some fresh air, on Pearce’s direction she found her way to a bench on a quiet terrace overlooking the extensive gardens. The sky, blue like a bolt of silk, was shot through with pale slashes of light and fluffy white clouds. The slopes of the grounds were shadowed by trees and the velvety lawns shimmered with early morning dew.

It was here that Dominic found her.

She stood up as he approached, uneasy about meeting her employer, hoping her illness had not roused his displeasure. She studied him intently as he came closer, her eyes alight with curiosity and caution. He was certainly as handsome as she remembered; in fact, many women would find him attractive, for he had incredible presence, exuding vitality and an aura of brute strength. She remembered the flush of attraction that had come over her on first seeing him and hated him for it. No other man had possessed the power to stir her emotions so intensely, and in such a way, on so short an acquaintance.

He appeared to be in his early thirties and there was a vigorous purposefulness in his long, quick strides that bespoke an athletic, active life, rather than the overindulgence that she could ascribe to the other gentlemen who had been present on the night she arrived.

‘Ah, Miss Lockwood. I trust you are feeling better?’

‘Yes, thank you, much better.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Please—sit down. I did not wish to disturb you.’

Juliet sat stiffly, her hands in her lap. ‘I want to thank you for having the doctor sent for. It was thoughtful of you.’

‘Nonsense. While I am paying your wages, it is in my own interests to hasten your recovery whenever you become ill.’ An amused, enigmatic gleam lit his eyes as he met her gaze. ‘Are you susceptible to illnesses, Miss Lockwood?’

‘Apart from contracting a few minor ailments when I was a child, on the whole my health gives me no reason for complaint. Have—you any objections to my being out here, your Grace?’

‘None whatsoever. Feel free to go anywhere you please within the house and grounds while you are here.’

‘Thank you. That is most generous.’

He walked to the edge of the terrace and, with his back to her, gazed at the scene before him, a scene that was as familiar to him as his own hand. ‘I often come out here to sit. This is a pleasant garden.’

‘Very pleasant,’ she agreed.

He looked back at her. ‘I’m glad you find it so. You are being looked after, I trust?’

‘I no longer need looking after. Dolly has been kindness itself. I apologise for the inconvenience I must have caused, but I should be ready to begin work in the morning. I’m looking forward to starting.’

An easy smile curved his pliant lips. ‘Not before you’re ready. We don’t want a relapse. You gave us all quite a fright.’

‘And I must have looked a sight.’ She laughed. ‘Although probably no worse than I normally look.’

‘Now you are being ridiculous and do yourself a grave injustice,’ Dominic remarked, marvelling at the courage she displayed under such duress. The bedraggled creature that had arrived three nights ago was gone and in her place was a pert, self-assured young miss. What he saw was a girl of medium height and slender and with curves in all the right places; and with an eye for beauty, especially when beauty was displayed in feminine form, Dominic looked at her now with surprise and more than a little appreciation.

She had a long white neck—like a swan, he found himself thinking. Her waist was miniscule, above which her breasts were high and rounded beneath her dress. Her voice was soft and yet her expression was open and direct, and she had indicated a genuine concern about her appearance, then calmly admitted that she did not look her best. This gave him the distinct impression that pretensions were completely foreign to her and that she was refreshingly unique in many ways—delightful ways, too.

That realisation stirred his conscience—and his pleasure at the thought was banished and made him step back. There was nothing right in what he was thinking about her. He was her employer and common decency dictated that he must not forget that—difficult as it might be. He must keep his distance, mentally and physically, and he must not think about her in any personal way.

With a slight inclination of his head that told her the conversation was over, he said, ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do.’

‘Of course. Please—do not let me keep you.’

She stood up quickly. It was a mistake. He was too close and with the seat behind her she could not retreat. He looked straight into her eyes, overwhelming her with the sheer force of his personality. She felt as if she had been stripped naked by the unexpected intimacy of that brief contact. She struggled to appear calm, but her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

He smiled, reading her perfectly. ‘I was about to say don’t get up,’ he murmured, his voice as smooth as silk. ‘Stay and enjoy the garden. The fresh air will be beneficial to your health.’

She relaxed slightly and began to breathe normally again, reproaching herself for acting foolishly. Surely she was far too sensible to be overawed by an employer. It occurred to her to wonder how much truth there was in the gossip that surrounded him. Was his reputation really as bad as it had been painted?

‘Yes, I will. Thank you.’

He glanced at her, and she felt her cooling cheeks begin to burn again. A glint of amusement flickered in his intelligent silvery eyes, almost as if he had guessed what she was thinking.

‘No need to thank me. Fresh air is free, Miss Lockwood.’

Juliet waited until he had disappeared into the house before resuming her seat. What sort of person was he, she wondered, this employer of hers? Her stomach churned when she remembered the harsh coldness of his words when he had come to her room, not realising she was ill, and when he had his kindness and concern had been exemplary.

Her position was becoming far more complicated than she had ever anticipated. Not only did she have her work to contend with, she also had to find a way of dealing with her own irrational attraction to her employer. She couldn’t believe he had aroused such a strong response within her—no one else had achieved that.

The following morning, throwing back the covers, Juliet swung her feet down to the carpet, feeling much stronger and eager to begin work,

Sitting at the dressing table, she brushed out her hair before twisting it into a tidy bun at her nape. She lingered a moment, examining her features with a critical eye, remembering the attractive woman she had seen on her arrival. For the first time in her life she wished she were beautiful. Beauty meant delicate features, clear blue eyes and soft blond hair. Her hair was an indeterminate shade of brown, her eyes too dark and her cheekbones too high, her mouth too full. The girls at the Academy had teased her about her looks and about her figure, too, for it wasn’t proper for a young woman to have a tiny waist and a voluptuous bosom.

She had never been concerned about her looks. She had thought only about learning, reading, her father and her brother, so that it left little room for anything else. A change had taken place, and it had come on her arrival to Lansdowne House. With it had come something that must be instinctive with every woman and she didn’t welcome it. The meeting with her employer had awakened something new, something she had sensed fleetingly in the past but never fully realising it until she had looked into a pair of silver-grey eyes.

A rueful smile curved her mouth. The Duke’s friend Sedgwick had called her pathetic, and if she were honest she must have looked a sorry sight. But there could be no excuse for what the Duke had said—about her looking like Farmer Shepherd’s scarecrow. It was an aspect to his character that told her a great deal about the man. If she could leave Lansdowne House, she would, but she would never find another position as well suited to her qualifications and the generous amount of money she was being paid.

But to be near the Duke of Hawksfield, knowing the disdain with which he regarded her, was an intolerable prospect.

Leaving her room, she stepped out into the passage. The rest of the household appeared to be sleeping. Everything was still. Downstairs, the hall was deserted, although she could hear the sound of voices and the distant clattering of pots in the kitchen, which she entered.

It was a splendid room where delicious smells assailed her, whose every surface was so highly scrubbed and polished it hurt the eye. A massive range with glowing coals occupied one wall, and there were two enormous tables, copper pans and bowls and chopping boards, and a huge dresser with what seemed to be hundreds of pieces of crockery and silver-covered dishes.

Maids scurried about their work under the watchful eye of Mrs Reed. They all turned to stare at the newcomer. She returned each and every look with a cordial smile. Seemingly unimpressed, they looked away. Like them she was employed by the Duke, but her elevated position set her apart.

Mrs Reed, stout and full bosomed and holding a long-handled spoon, looked up and studied the new arrival from head to foot. ‘You must be Miss Lockwood.’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ Juliet replied quickly, awkward at her intrusion.

‘You’re not from these parts?’ she said, as though Juliet had professed herself to be an alien from a place beyond the reach of civilisation.

‘No, I am not.’

‘And you’re feeling better now, are you?’

‘Yes, much better, thank you.’

‘Good.’

‘You are Mrs Reed?’

‘I am. I’m the cook for his Grace—have been for thirty years.’

‘Then I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs Reed,’ Juliet said, already realising that it would need a delicate touch to deal with the ticklish task of keeping on the right side of the cook. ‘It is you I have to thank for the excellent food Dolly was so kind to bring to my room. I wonder if I could have some coffee—and perhaps some toast sent in to the library? I’m anxious to see where I’m to work.’

Mrs Reed looked none too pleased at having one of the maids taken off their work to wait on the new girl, which Dolly had been doing too much of late, but she nodded all the same. ‘I’ll prepare a tray and have Dolly bring it to you, but in future I’d appreciate it if you fetched it yourself. They’ve enough to do without running back and forth to the library.’

The tone was courteous, but the dismissal clear.

Juliet smiled sweetly. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Reed.’ Mrs Reed sniffed as though to say and so she should be. ‘In future I will do that.’ She had no choice but to withdraw.

Sir John’s library was impressive, but it could not compare with what she saw when she entered the library at Lansdowne House. Instantly she felt the room’s peace and tranquillity. It was a square high room and smelled of beeswax and old leather, a wonderful smell she savoured. A globe of the world stood in one corner, alongside a glass display case containing a selection of artefacts and curiosities, and four beautiful miniature water colours by an artist she did not recognise. There was a richly carved huge round table in the centre and comfortable leather chairs.

The room was awash with books on shelves from floor to ceiling, huge tomes, some behind glass for preservation, and journals and pamphlets. She ran her eyes along each shelf in turn, reading the names on the polished spines, letting her fingers trail over the leather bindings, pausing now and then when a particular volume caught her interest. Some were dog eared and in need of attention.

There was a collection of religious texts, a section devoted to English literature, and in the furthest corner of the library was an alcove dedicated to books on history. She stared in awe at the priceless artefacts and the glorious collection of paintings in ornate frames, and she was sure that was a Rubens over the fireplace.

Dolly brought the tray with her coffee, a small jug of frothy milk and a bowl of white sugar cubes. She placed it on the table. ‘Shall I pour it, miss?’

‘No, thank you, Dolly. I can manage.’

‘Very good, miss—and don’t mind Cook. Her bark’s worse than her bite, as they say. She meant no harm—in fact, she’s sent you some of her special biscuits to have with your coffee, as well as the toast.’

‘I can see that,’ Juliet said, somewhat heartened by the cook’s unexpected kindness. ‘They look delicious. Please thank her for me, will you, Dolly?’

‘I will, miss. And don’t be put off by Pearce either. He might look as though he’s come out of the laundry over-starched, but he’s an old softy at heart.’

Juliet laughed. ‘Thank you, Dolly. I’ll remember that. And—and his Grace?’ she ventured tentatively.

Walking to the door, Dolly turned and looked at her with a grimace. ‘His Grace is better for knowing, miss. You’ll get the measure of him soon enough.’




Chapter Two


When Dolly had left, selecting a book at random Juliet took it to the table and opened the hard-back covers, releasing the scent of dust and old papers and antiquity. She lifted the lid on the pot of steaming coffee, releasing the delicious aroma, and settled down to begin her work.

Thirty minutes later Dominic paused in the doorway. Miss Lockwood hadn’t heard him enter and he paused for a moment to look at her, pleasantly surprised. She was wearing a plain grey dress, its only relief a small white linen collar and cuffs.

Sensing she was not alone, Juliet reluctantly pulled herself away from what she was reading and drew herself upright. Turning, she met the Duke’s hard, discerning stare. She noticed how he had a habit of staring right at a person with an unwavering gaze that seemed to blot out everything else. An inexplicable, lazy smile swept over his face as he surveyed her from head to toe, and Juliet had the staggering and impossible impression that he actually liked what he saw.

She started to lower her gaze, then forced herself to return his appraisal with a measuring look of her own. Lounging in the doorway in his snug, buff-coloured breeches and polished brown knee boots and tan jacket, a strong, ruthless figure who made the room seem much smaller, he looked incredibly striking.

‘Good morning, your Grace,’ she greeted brusquely.

‘Good morning, Miss Lockwood. You may address me as Lord Lansdowne. I always consider your Grace as being too formal.’

‘Very well. I hope you don’t mind me coming to the library, but I wanted to see where I would be working.’

‘Why should I mind?’ he replied, sauntering towards her. ‘It shows you are keen to get on with the project. I like that. It is unfortunate your first few days have been blighted by your illness,’ he said lightly. ‘I am also sorry that your first impressions cannot have been favourable, but no matter. You are here now.’

Juliet watched him, noting that the man who strode towards her bore little resemblance to the relaxed man she had seen on the night of her arrival and again on the terrace.

Leaning over, he scanned the notes she had made, his face impassive. ‘I see you’ve started already,’ he comented, noticing the quill in the inkwell and the ink staining her fingers.

‘I’ve just been familiarising myself with where I am to work and making some notes.’

He nodded. Her reply made no apparent impression on him and he raised his eyes and levelled his penetrating gaze on her, swiftly changing the subject. ‘I must apologise for my friends when you arrived. They were out of hand.’

‘Please do not think you have to apologise for their behaviour to me. If your friends choose to behave like that, then that is their affair.’

‘Indeed, but their manners were quite appalling.’

‘I quite agree. I am sure they’re all fine, honourable gentlemen—when they’re not in their cups, but it is not gentlemanly behaviour to make fun of defenceless females.’

Dominic cocked a sleek black brow and smiled. ‘Oh, I think you are more than capable of defending yourself, Miss Lockwood.’

She lifted her chin and gazed squarely at him. ‘Lord Lansdowne.’

‘Yes.’

‘There is one thing I would like to say before I begin working for you.’

‘Really! And what is that, Miss Lockwood?’

‘I have not come here to provide some kind of entertainment for your friends. I am here to work.’

‘I see you speak your mind.’

‘That is my way. In doing so it is not my intention to give offence, but I think it is best if we know where we stand. Don’t you agree?’

His lips twitched. ‘Oh, absolutely, and I shall endeavour to keep tight rein on my friends when you are around.’

‘Thank you. I would appreciate that.’ His grey eyes locked on to hers in such a penetrating way that she couldn’t look away.

‘You seem very sure of yourself, Miss Lockwood.’

‘I am independent. I make my own living. I like it that way.’

Closer now, Dominic saw that her eyes were a curious colour, being large and limpid and a warm brown, but in them were flecks of gold, reminding him of a young doe. Her skin was white and as unblemished as bone china, and her mouth was rosy and full. He took a moment to note her severely drawn-back hair was thick and silken, shot through with tones of russet and copper and gleamed with the gloss of good health.

His expression said he was astonished and that he liked what he saw. It was in his eyes and the curling expression of his well-cut lips, in the slight drooping of his eyelashes in admiration.

Resentment at being stared at as if she were a mare that had drawn his fancy stirred in Juliet, but she did not show it. Still she was determined to be on her guard, mindful of Robby’s warning. She could now see for herself that he was terribly handsome, and his wealth and title only added to his desirability.

She had also heard all about maids in many of the big houses having to leave in a hurry when they found themselves in a delicate condition, because they had caught the fancy of the master or one or more of his sons, who thought young domestic girls were there to be used for their personal convenience. It was a way of life with them. For all she knew the Duke of Hawksfield might be no different, in which case she would do her work and avoid him whenever possible.

‘You aren’t, by any chance, one of those women who are committed to women’s rights—equality and all that.’

‘Being a woman, naturally I support it, but I am not involved with any group. Men will continue to make the rules for a good many years, just as they have always done, but one day I do believe women will overcome adversity and have the same freedom as men.’

Dominic was curious. ‘Where do you live? Where are your family?’

‘I live where I work.’

‘And do you have siblings, Miss Lockwood?’

‘I—have a brother—a half-brother.’

‘A half-brother?’ he queried.

‘His mother was my father’s first wife. She died. As did my own mother, Father’s second wife.’

‘And your brother? Where is he?’

She looked down at the open book on the table. ‘We don’t see each other very often,’ she answered truthfully, having decided when she had accepted the position that she would withhold her brother’s temporary embarrassment from him.

Sensing some kind of evasion, Dominic looked at her, but did not pursue the issue. ‘And I understand you were educated at Miss Millington’s Academy in Bath.’

‘Yes.’

He cocked a sleek, inquisitive brow. ‘An expensive academy, Miss Lockwood.’

‘My father was a scholar—a professor. He taught theology and history at Oxford University, where he himself studied. He was an extraordinary man, a very private one, and his interest in books was wide ranging. He believed everyone had a right to an education, and where I was concerned he put that before anything else, which was why he chose to send me to Miss Millington’s Academy.’

She did not tell him that it was only at her father’s funeral two years ago that she learned that all his money was gone. The Academy had been very expensive and he had never let her suspect his financial difficulties. He had continued to pay her tuition and to send money for her clothes. On her visits to his rooms in Oxford he had put on a front and she had never suspected anything was amiss.

The money was gone, and she would have been homeless had Miss Millington not offered her a position to teach at the Academy. Of course there was someone she could have appealed to—her maternal grandfather, but he had disowned her mother when she had eloped with her father, and Juliet had too much pride to go begging to an old man.

‘And you were a teacher at the Academy?’

‘Yes, until I went to work for Sir John Moore—doing very much what I shall be doing here—and I must thank you for considering me suitable for the position. But you already know the work I did for Sir John. I included it in my letter of application, along with my references from both Miss Millington and Sir John.’

‘And glowing references they were, too, which was why I considered you suitable for the position without asking to see you first. You are apparently well read and uncommonly well educated. You speak fluent French and read and speak Latin and Greek, so why shouldn’t I consider you a suitable person to catalogue my books?’

‘Because I am a woman. There are many who think it unnecessary and impudent for females to be tutored beyond the basics of womanly duties.’

‘That doesn’t trouble me. Does it trouble you, Miss Lockwood?’

‘No, not in the slightest, but many men are too prejudiced when it comes to women working for them.’

‘It does not concern me. I am merely interested to know that you can do the job to my satisfaction.’

‘And did you have many applicants to consider, Lord Lansdowne?’ she dared to ask.

‘Just the one. You, Miss Lockwood.’

‘Then there really wasn’t very much to consider, was there?’

‘No.’ He went to the desk and picked up a book she had been looking at. ‘The library here is quite extensive and has been neglected for a good many years. There are many first editions and rare volumes, which I am certain you will find interesting—along with a good selection of novels. There is a great deal of work to do, and the pace will become quite stressful. You may find it tedious, but it is necessary if the books are to be preserved. Cataloguing was undertaken in my grandfather’s time and the library needs updating. More books have been added and some of the volumes are in need of repair. There will be much to do.’ He passed a keen eye over her face. ‘Are you up to such an undertaking, Miss Lockwood?’

‘I would not be here if I didn’t think so. As you pointed out yourself, Lord Lansdowne, I am well qualified.’

Dominic glanced down at the title of the book and opened it, the gold signet ring on his left hand flashed as it caught the light. He smiled. ‘You like Greek mythology?’

‘Yes, very much.’

‘Which you have read extensively?’

‘Of course,’ she admitted.

‘And I was under the impression that reading the classics branded a female a blue stocking.’

‘It usually does, in the circles in which you move, but in my case society is not important to me. I am interested in things beyond petit point and fashion. No doubt you consider this unfeminine.’

‘Not at all—but there isn’t a lady of my acquaintance who thinks of anything other than clothes and meaningless gossip, so it makes a refreshing change to meet a woman who does not.’

‘Well, firstly, I am not a lady, and, secondly, I actually find it tedious.’

‘Do you sing—and play a musical instrument?’

‘No, I’m afraid not. I’m tone deaf.’

Her candid confession brought a smile to his lips. ‘No one’s perfect, Miss Lockwood,’ he cheerfully and magnanimously declared. ‘Besides, it makes a refreshing change. I’ve long desired to meet a female who reads Greek mythology, and I shall not be deterred from employing you merely because you can’t sing or play the piano.’

Despite herself, Juliet found herself smiling. ‘That’s a relief. It will make my work a whole lot easier knowing I shall not be required to break into song.’

‘That will not help my project to get the library sorted.’

‘Does it not please you to listen to ladies entertain, Lord Lansdowne?’

‘No, not particularly. Between you and me, Miss Lockwood, some of them would be as well to keep their mouths closed. Permanently.’ He put the book down and perched his hips against the desk, feeling drawn to her and curiously reluctant to leave and to keep the conversation flowing. ‘I am sure we have many points of interest and I see no reason why we should not become good friends.’

‘I see many reasons,’ Juliet stated primly.

‘And what are they?’

‘Your elevated position, for one thing. You are a duke, well descended, a person with breeding, bloodlines and ancestry. I am your employee, and I have no intention of breaching the social code. You have already seen by my behaviour when I arrived—when I so rudely barged into the room where you were entertaining your friends—that my knowledge of protocol is negligible.’

‘It is easily acquired.’

‘I have no doubt it is, by those in a position to do so, but because of who I am, I do not expect noble etiquette to concern me. I am happy with the present arrangement.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘You are a cool customer, Miss Lockwood.’

‘Like I said, that is my way. To make a living I have to sell my services; you as my employer are buying them.’

‘And with the mammoth task ahead of you, it could turn out to be a costly transaction. My secretary James Lewis, will assist you when necessary, but you will have to refer to me on several issues, so it is inevitable that you and I are going to be on closer terms. Have you not thought about that?’

‘Not really. Our respective positions make any kind of acquaintance other than a working one impossible. It would be like a Royal Prince consorting with a commoner.’ He looked slightly taken aback by her outspokenness, and she felt the victory was hers.

Shoving himself away from the desk, Dominic fixed her with a level stare. ‘We shall see, Miss Lockwood. Your room is comfortable, I trust—and the servants have helped you settle in?’

‘Yes, thank you—although I don’t think the staff know quite what to make of me.’

‘Oh? And why is that?’

‘I belong neither upstairs nor downstairs.’

‘Then where do you belong, Miss Lockwood?’

‘Somewhere in between.’

‘Then since my own elevated position sets us apart, and the servants are not in your league either, it would seem you are going to have your work cut out—and I am not talking about your work in the library.’ His eyes on the window, suddenly he frowned.

Juliet followed his gaze and saw a carriage approaching the house. ‘You have a visitor.’

‘Mmm,’ he murmured thoughtfully. ‘My sister, Cordelia. No doubt she’s come to nag me some more about taking a wife.’

There were footsteps across the hall outside. A moment later the door opened and an elegant woman breezed in.

Cordelia, a brisk, businesslike woman, was tall like her brother, in her late thirties, slender and with the upright carriage of a woman who sat a horse superbly. Her light brown hair had lost most of its colour, but her face was still young, her angular cheekbones and well-defined nose had kept their lines and her complexion had a bloom many a younger woman would envy.

‘Good morning, Dominic,’ she said coolly, crossing towards her brother and offering her cheek, which he kissed dutifully.’

‘Cordelia.’

‘You enjoyed the shooting yesterday?’

‘As always, Cordelia,’ he answered drily.

‘And no doubt you spent the night with your friends drinking yourself into oblivion,’ she chided dryly, pulling off her gloves. ‘I called on Maria Howard on my way here. Her darling Thomas looked dreadful—haggard and hollow eyed—clearly under the weather. Geraldine was still in bed—I’d wager she made a total fool of herself and disgraced herself with young Sedgwick as usual. Thomas and Geraldine are both spoiled, promiscuous and irresponsible. They drink far too much—in fact, the pair of them are over-indulged. Neither of them know anything of self-discipline—and you shouldn’t encourage them, Dominic,’ she reproached harshly.

Dominic’s brows shot up in offended surprise. ‘Me?’

‘Yes, you, since this is where they make for whenever they wish to misbehave. Why on earth Geraldine’s father doesn’t take a crop to her backside I’ll never know. Although that said,’ she said wryly, ‘I strongly suspect he’s hoping young Sedgwick will offer for her.’

Interest kindled in her eyes when she turned and saw Juliet standing patiently by the desk. ‘Oh, forgive me. I had no idea you had company. And who is this young lady, pray?’

‘Cordelia, allow me to present to you Miss Lockwood. Miss Lockwood, my sister, Lady Cordelia Pemberton. Cordelia, I told you I was to employ someone to sort out the library,’ he said, somewhat vexed that she had clearly forgotten.

‘You did? I don’t recall you doing so. Still, it does need updating, I suppose—but I am surprised you of all people should employ a woman to do it—and isn’t she a little young?’

‘Miss Lockwood may be young, Cordelia, but she is highly qualified and comes with excellent recommendations.’

‘Well, that’s something I suppose. I am pleased to meet you, Miss Lockwood. I do hope the task of cataloguing these dusty old tomes won’t be too daunting a task for you.’

‘Not at all, Lady Pemberton. In fact, I’m looking forward to it.’

‘You are? Well, I suppose it takes all sorts. You are like Dominic. The library is close to his heart, but I fear I could not bear to devote myself to such a tedious task. My late husband was an avid historian and often came here to peruse, so to speak.’

Juliet wondered how anyone could call such work tedious.

‘Don’t let my brother work you too hard,’ Lady Pemberton remarked, eyeing her brother as though he already had.

‘But I enjoy my work,’ Juliet counted. ‘This is where I like to be.’

‘I suppose you do, otherwise you would not be doing it, but you must not hide yourself away. You must have some kind of recreation. It’s important that you get into the fresh air—take some exercise. Do you ride, Miss Lockwood?’

‘No, I’m afraid not.’

Lady Pemberton waved her hand in a dismissive manner. ‘Oh well, I suppose you can always learn.’

Smiling, Juliet shook her head. ‘Oh, I don’t think so, Lady Pemberton. I prefer to leave horse riding to others.’

As if reading her mind, Dominic said, ‘I must warn you that outside pursuits are close to my sister’s heart, and if you are not careful she will take you under her wing and before you know it you will have become an accomplished rider trotting about all over the place.’

Juliet could not help laughing at that. Lord Lansdowne’s sister had a forthright friendliness she liked.

‘She is the same with everyone,’ Dominic went on, ‘although it causes some of her friends much vexation.’

‘I can’t see why,’ Juliet countered. ‘I would be happy for you to visit me here in the library at any time.’

Lady Pemberton beamed. ‘Good. Be assured I shall do just that and we shall have tea together. Since my dear husband passed on I find I have far too much time on my hands. I shall often come to see how you are progressing with your work, but I must insist that you do not impose a discussion of literature upon me. I prefer to chat about more interesting matters.’

‘You heard what Miss Lockwood said, Cordelia. She is here to work, not socialise,’ her brother firmly stated. ‘Besides, she has already told me she has no interest in frivolous matters.’

‘Well, I’m sure we shall find something in common to talk about.’

‘When she accepted the position she took on an obligation to me through to the completion of this project.’

‘Really, Dominic, you cannot keep the poor girl cooped up here all the time. And might I suggest that in making her feel welcome you do not terrify her with your ducal intimidation. Make use of the charming aspects of your character. Do not drive her too hard. Remember that she is a woman first.’

Dominic scowled and, taking his sister’s arm, marched her to the door. ‘I will keep what you say in mind, Cordelia. Now let us leave Miss Lockwood to do what I am paying her a great deal of money to do and we will go elsewhere to discuss why you are here.’

‘Oh, very well. Goodbye, Miss Lockwood. I shall visit you very soon. You know why I have come to see you, Dominic, so don’t pretend you don’t,’ Lady Pemberton retorted as she was led away, unaware that the library door was ajar and that she was being overheard by Juliet as they crossed the hall to her brother’s study. ‘There is nothing that would delight me more than to know you have found someone to marry, a young woman who possesses the requirements of birth and breeding enough to make her worthy of marrying into the Lansdowne family and producing your heir.’

‘I know, Cordelia, since you never tire of telling me at every opportunity.’

‘You are the Duke of Hawksfield, so you must marry well for duty’s sake. I know you would prefer not to marry at all, but you are not getting any younger and you must secure an heir. You cannot go on postponing the inevitable any longer. Besides, it’s about time you made me an aunt.’

Eight years ago, despite the fact that Dominic was an only son and had not produced an heir to ensure the succession, his father had bought him a commission in the army. He had fought many battles in Spain against Napoleon’s army, his daring and courage in the face of the enemy earning him the reputation as an invincible opponent. Two years ago, after fighting in the battle at Waterloo, which was quickly followed by his father’s demise, he had resigned his commission and returned to Lansdowne House to resume the duties and responsibilities of a dukedom, and it was Cordelia’s opinion that it entailed taking a wife and producing the necessary heir.

‘Cordelia, as usual you are being far too dramatic. You have raised this particular issue many times and it is becoming tiresome. I am quite content as I am, and I want nothing to mar my present contentment—a wife would.’

‘You cannot continue evading the issue as you do, Dominic,’ his sister persisted. ‘Of course, if you do marry, you will have to give up your current mistress. You do realise that, don’t you?’

Frances was no secret, but it was not the done thing for a gentleman to discuss his mistress with his sister. On this occasion, however, Dominic wanted Cordelia to understand his intentions. ‘My choice of bride is not your concern, Cordelia, and neither is my mistress. I am not giving Frances up.’

‘Are you telling me you intend to keep her on after you are married?’ his sister gasped in shocked tones.

Standing by the partly open door, Juliet heard Lord Lansdowne chuckle low in his throat.

‘That’s what gentlemen do all the time, Cordelia. The English nobility, as you will know, marry only for prestige and money, then look elsewhere for sexual fulfilment. When I marry, the lady I choose will be well bred, healthy and gracious. I shall not be expecting to be made happy by it—which is where Frances will come in.’

‘Marriage may surprise you. You might even be made happy by it—as happy as I was with my darling Edward, happy enough that you will not need the companionship of such women as Frances Parker. I beg of you to at least try to find someone you could love.’

‘You always were a romantic, Cordelia,’ Juliet heard Lord Lansdowne reply with irony, their voices getting fainter as they entered his study. ‘You and Edward were blessed to have loved each other so devotedly—’

‘As you once did,’ Cordelia said on a softer note. ‘Amelia had everything—looks, breeding and style—and I know you were dazzled by her looks. It was a wicked tragedy what happened—to you more than anyone else—and then for her to die so suddenly, but it was over eight years ago and life goes on.’

‘What I felt for Amelia only comes once in a lifetime, Cordelia. You should know that. Anything after that is only second best.’

Neither of them heard the click of the library door as Juliet closed it to shut out their conversation.

‘You never did get over that, did you, Dominic?’

‘Oh, I got over it, Cordelia. I also learned my lesson. Never trust a woman.’

‘That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? Not all women are like that.’

‘You are the exception, Cordelia.’

It was not in Juliet’s nature to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, which was why she had closed the door without listening to the rest of what they had to say, but what she had heard told her more about her employer than she cared for. He really was a libertine of the first degree if he insisted on keeping a mistress when he acquired a wife, and she pitied the woman he would eventually choose to marry, but she was also saddened by his loss, a loss that had plainly been so traumatic for him that it had made it difficult for him to marry any other woman.

Over the days that followed Juliet embarked on the task to familiarise herself with her new position and to absorb everything that was required of her with all the determination and intelligence she possessed. It was a demanding task and Lord Lansdowne was a demanding employer. His secretary, James Lewis, a mild-mannered, middle-aged man, was indeed helpful in showing her the ropes, and Lord Lansdowne himself frequently came to the library. He was critical and yet at the same time he gave praise where it was due and was interested in the progress she was making.

Their encounters were beginning to disturb her. She was overwhelmed by the sensations he aroused in her. She could not believe how her heart leapt when she caught unexpected sight of him, the delight when he smiled at her. At the same time she did not like the feeling of weakness, of powerlessness.

Often he would come upon her when she was so engrossed in her work that she was at her most vulnerable, her guard relaxed. Without warning he would appear beside her and look over her shoulder. She would feel his warm breath on her cheek and smell the subtle tang of his cologne, and felt betrayed by the way her body responded to him in stark opposition to her wishes. His great virility alarmed her at such close quarters.

It was her day off, a glorious day, with the sun shining out of a deep blue sky and not a cloud in sight. With a book to read, an apple in her pocket and wearing a green bonnet to shield her face from the sun, she intended finding a quiet spot in the extensive gardens where she would be uninterrupted.

Encountering Dolly in the passage leading from the kitchen to the yard at the back of the house struggling with a large basket covered with a snowy white cloth, she paused. ‘What on earth have you got there, Dolly? I hope you don’t have to carry it very far.’

‘To the field beyond the stables, miss, where they’re cutting the winter wheat.’

Juliet knew the home farm, run by the competent Farmer Shepherd, whose scarecrow his Grace had likened her to, had started the harvest. True to tradition, the Harvest Horn was sounded each morning at five o’clock, summoning the workers to the fields. ‘Here, let me help you. You’ll strain yourself, carrying the basket all that way.’

‘Thank you, miss. I’d be ever so grateful. All the baskets of food have already been taken to the field, but this is full of some late pies just out of the oven. There’s a large workforce to cater for. His Grace is giving them a hand, so Cook wants to create a good impression by making sure everyone’s well fed and watered—so to speak.’ She gave the basket a look of disdain. ‘There are enough pies and pasties in there to feed an army.’

Juliet placed her book on a window sill, and between them they took the handle and went outside. The air was hot and sultry and heavy with the scent of flowers blooming in beds along the path that led to the stables and the fields beyond.

‘You say the Duke is helping with the harvest, Dolly?’

‘Always does. Loves it, he does. He’s always there come hay time and harvest. Seems to like the physical work—suppose it’s got something to do with him being in the army. There’s no keeping him away from it.’

‘But don’t the workers find his presence intimidating?’

‘No—not a bit. They’re used to him and treat him like one of them—which is the way he likes it when he’s in the field. He wouldn’t have it any other way.’

Reaching the field, Juliet thought what a beautiful sight it was. It was full of people, young and old, with men bending low, grasping the corn in handfuls and cutting it with the serrated edge of the sickle, the metal shining in the sun as the heavy heads of wheat fell in a graceful form before being hooked into sheaves. The men cut and the women gathered the sheaves together with their bare hands. Each sheaf was bound with a straw bond, which had been made from the cut corn and tied with a special knot. They worked until the mid-day sun baked the cornfield, making the uncut wheat crackle and the reapers’ hunger and thirst for food and drink.

A cobalt-blue sky smiled over the green crest of hills in the distance, golden sunlight pouring down the slopes. High overhead a hawk hovered, while a couple of noisy magpies perched on a fence. Dogs with wagging tales and tongues lolling from panting mouths watched and waited in a shivering, excited alertness to catch the frightened rabbits that would come darting out from the corn, disturbed by the cutters.

Juliet’s eyes drank in the intoxication of it all. She suddenly felt like a gilded bird freed from its cage for a few precious hours.

Juliet and Dolly carried the basket to the shade of the hedge, where others from the house, who gave them no more than a cursory glance, were already unpacking baskets. Placing the basket on the ground, Juliet took a moment to let her gaze wander to the surrounding fields where the corn had already been cut and stooked and stood like aisles of cathedrals in long rows on the golden stubble.

Kneeling on the ground, she began helping Dolly. Juliet liked the young maid, who was easy to talk to and always went out of her way to make her life easy at Lansdowne House. Dolly looked at her and smiled.

‘This isn’t the kind of work I expected to see you doing, miss. You don’t have to.’

‘I know, but I’d like to. Besides, it’s my day off, and it’s much better than being by myself. Who are all these people, Dolly? Where do they come from?’

‘The village mostly and surrounding hamlets. Casual workers are paid by the day, others by the week. It’s backbreaking work, with not many breaks. Too much time resting in the heat of the day and the target of corn to be cut, tied and stooked will not be reached. If the heavy rains come and lay the corn, it’s difficult to cut so they keep going.’ She looked up at the sun. ‘They’ll soon be breaking off. There’s the Duke over there.’ She pointed him out. ‘He’s handsome, don’t you think so?’

‘Yes, he is.’

‘He’s a lady’s man, too, when he goes to London,’ Dolly said in a matter-of-fact way. ‘Randy as a ram in town, but he never brings any of the ladies back here. He’s never been known to interfere with the female staff, either. He’s sober and fair minded and generous towards those who work for him, and admired by everyone in the district.’

‘You certainly place him in an amiable light, Dolly. It is not consistent with his behaviour when he is in London.’

She shrugged. ‘He can do what he likes in town, it’s how he behaves when he’s here that counts. Take people as you find is what I always say. His friends are a bit lively, though, and he has a habit of setting the whole house in uproar during the shooting and hunting season, when every gentleman here abouts invades the house. Always puts poor old Pearce in a flap and Mrs Reed never knows how many she has to cater for. That Sir Charles Sedgwick has to be watched. Have you met him?’

‘Yes, on my arrival.’

‘He’s an ever-so-charming rogue with the ladies if ever there was, so you watch out for him,’ Dolly warned, pausing in her work to give Juliet a stern look, as if she were instructing a child when in fact she was younger than Juliet. ‘He can be very persuasive.’

‘Well, he is very good looking.’

‘They all are, miss. That’s the danger of it. Let them have their way and the next thing you know you’re in the family way. Miss Geraldine Howard’s got her hooks into him, but he’s not averse to trying it on with any pretty face that comes his way. Always causes quite a stir among the housemaids when he comes a-calling.’

Juliet laughed lightly. ‘Never fear, Dolly. I’ll take heed of what you say, although I like to think I have a cool head in matters of the heart and always keep my feet firmly on the ground.’

Juliet paused to watch the workers toiling in the field, becoming thoughtful about what Dolly had said about her employer. Had she been mistaken about his character, and that except for his dissolute behaviour when he went to town, his actions when he was at Lansdowne Hall put a different construction on his character? To be fair to him, from what she had observed of him as he went about his work, he conducted himself with dignity and was always civil and courteous, and had Dolly not given him an almost flawless character?

In her plain dove-grey dress, a few seasons old but flattering with a modest neckline and short ballooned sleeves, some of the workers began to take notice of Juliet. Unlike the other maids in their white aprons and caps covering their hair, from beneath her bonnet Juliet’s hair hung loose about her shoulders, the sides drawn back and secured with a narrow ribbon. Young men in the field became fascinated by her presence, exciting them and thrusting from their thoughts all the other young maids who were unpacking baskets of food.

When there was nothing to do but wait for mid-day, sitting a little away from the others beneath the shade of a willow tree, spreading her skirts about her, Juliet watched those hard at work. It was a cheerful group of maids who, happy to be relieved from household duties for a short while, eyed the youths in the field with encouraging flirtatious glances, tittering and giggling and hoping they would be singled out when they came to eat.

It wasn’t difficult for Juliet to pick out her employer, who was arranging up the sheaves in stooks of eight. Never had she seen a figure of such masculine appeal. Against her better judgement she allowed her captivated senses to propel her deeper into her own thoughts, and as often happened, she was filled with such longings and yearnings as she had never thought to experience, and she felt that melting sensation in her secret parts.

Like many of the other male workers, he was naked to the waist. His legs were clad in buckskin trousers that fitted him like a second skin, tucked into high black boots and secured around the waist with a leather belt. The hairs on his chest glistened like strands of polished jet as every time he lifted a sheaf caused hard muscle to tense and ripple under his bronzed skin.

In no way did he resemble the refined gentleman who inhabited Lansdowne House. He was more like a gypsy, too swarthy for a nobleman, yet as much at ease in a fancy drawing room dressed like a duke as stripped half-naked in the harvest field, working and sweating like a beast of burden with everyday folk.

At mid-day it was a cheerful yet weary group of workers that drifted to the shade of the hedge. They gathered around the baskets, mothers picking up their babies and unashamedly bearing their breasts to feed them. They sat quaffing ale and cider, the women and children cold tea, before tucking into bread and cheese, fat bacon and Mrs Reed’s succulent pasties and pies.

The air was languid, the warm, sweet smell of the cornfield prevalent, and butterflies and insects fluttered about. For a while silence reigned, as everyone was content to munch away, unfazed by the presence of the Duke among them, content to work side by side with him, their only concern being to get the work done.

Juliet watched him throw himself down on the ground with his fellow workers, and when one of the men spoke to him a slow half-smile curved his sensuous lips, and she saw him give a careless shrug before lifting his a flagon of ale to his mouth. Tilting his head back, he drank deep, the curved arch of his throat strong and muscular. Passing the flagon on to the next man, he wiped his mouth on his arm and bit into a pasty.

It wasn’t until he’d finished that he raised his fine dark eyebrows at some remark and finally looked in Juliet’s direction. He sat watching her in silent fascination, then he smiled as their eyes met and he excused himself and hoisted himself to his feet.




Chapter Three


There was a mild stir of interest as the Duke made his way towards Miss Lockwood, but then everyone went back to filling their bellies. Dropping down beside her Dominic stretched out on his side, looking up at her.

‘So, Miss Lockwood, you have deserted your duties in the library to wait on the workers.’

‘I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Not at all. It’s your day off so you are at liberty to do what you like.’

Uneasy by his semi-nakedness, Juliet tried to keep her eyes averted, but it was virtually impossible when he was so close.

Sensing her unease and amusingly aware of the reason, Dominic got up again and went and dragged his white lawn shirt off the hedge where he’d discarded it earlier. Shrugging himself into it, he resumed his position on the ground beside her.

‘I would not wish my state of undress to offend your maidenly senses, Miss Lockwood,’ he said by way of an apology, ‘so I will spare your blushes.’

She merely smiled, relieved that she no longer had to gaze on that wide expanse of firm flesh. How handsome he is, she thought, with his black hair wildly tousled by his exertions. The dark liquid of her eyes deepened as she became caught up in the excitement of his presence.

She was sitting on the ground in a position that was neither dignified not ladylike. In her wildest imaginings she had never expected to find herself sitting in a wheat field with the Duke stretched out beside her. He took the piece of bread and the lump of cheese she offered. For a moment their hands touched. His hand was tanned, with strong, elegant fingers. She was instantly conscious of the warmth and potential power of that hand and felt an answering spark at his touch that no other man had aroused in her.

She hesitated, unable to look away from his face. His gaze was strangely compelling, though she still couldn’t decipher the expression in his guarded silver-grey eyes. She was torn between a desire to get up and run away, and a fugitive wish to prolong the moment.

‘I—intended finding a quiet place to read my book, until I saw Dolly struggling with the heavy basket.’

‘And so you volunteered to help her. How very considerate of you, Miss Lockwood.’

There was something about the amused tilt of his eyebrows, the sudden mischievousness in his eyes, that made her laugh. ‘I like to oblige when I can.’

He cocked a brow, his silvery eyes glinting with reflected sunlight. ‘You do?’

She flushed softly, hoping he didn’t mean what she thought he did. When his smile curled and his lips lifted slightly at one corner, his eyelids drooping seductively over his eyes, she knew that was exactly what he meant and didn’t deign to reply.

Seeming to be content in her company, he allowed his eyes to remain on her, gauging her, watching for her every shade of thought and emotion, his gaze missing nothing. She looked lovely and arresting and very interesting. Her body was rounded and disturbing in its femininity. The swell of her hips and the firm shapeliness of her breasts as she leaned over the basket were outlined softly beneath her gown.

Hauling himself to a sitting position, he idly took hold of the short handle of a sickle that had been left lying on the ground and set it down by his side before turning his attention back to his charming employee, his leg brushing the naked blade.

‘Have a care, Lord Lansdowne. If you do not treat the sickle with respect, it could do you untold damage should you happen to …’ They stared at each other in silence for several moments, then Juliet grinned impudently.

Dominic glanced sideways at her. There was a gleam in his eyes, and she saw a smile form on his lips. He was clearly amused by her gauche remark. ‘What? Sit on it? I sincerely hope not since I intend to father many children one day. But, my dear Miss Lockwood,’ he uttered with mock horror, ‘you should be flayed to within an inch of your life as a warning to others for your disrespectful boldness.’

She flushed hotly, wondering how she could have been so unsophisticated as to speak her thoughts aloud, but then, seeing the funny side when she realised what he thought she was referring to, laughter bubbled to her lips and it was a moment before she could speak.

‘Or hung from a gibbet at a crossroads somewhere,’ she suggested at last, tears of mirth gathered in her eyes that were gently teasing, ‘as a warning to others not to be rude to a duke—or transportation to the colonies, even. Goodness, the punishments could be endless.’

He grinned, the sunlight emphasising the distinctive contours of his face, his strong white teeth gleaming as he returned her gaze. ‘You’re far too attractive for gallows meat, Miss Lockwood, and were you to be transported to the colonies, then who would I get as efficient as you to finish cataloguing my library?’

‘Who indeed?’ She laughed. ‘But no one is indispensable, your Grace.’

‘I wouldn’t count on that if I were you, Miss Lockwood.’

Looking around and seeing that everyone had eaten their fill and were lolling around before they would start the afternoon work, Juliet began placing the uneaten food and drink carefully back into the basket, studying her employer surreptitiously. He was the most assured man she had ever met, yet she sensed that his self-confidence wasn’t founded on empty arrogance, but on hard-won experience.

He looked so relaxed, sitting there with his arms resting atop his drawn-up knees. And yet, she had the strangest feeling that beneath that relaxed exterior there was a forcefulness, carefully restrained for now, but waiting. If she were to make a wrong move, a mistake of any kind, she felt that he would unleash that force on her. Recollecting herself, she gave herself a hard shake. Now she really was being foolish and fanciful.

As she turned her head away, her attention was caught by a young couple several yards apart eyeing each other with a certain look. Without a word she saw them get up and saunter towards a break in the hedge, come together and disappear through the gap, and a moment later from behind the hedge came a fit of giggling. Juliet glanced at her employer, who had also seen the couple disappear. He was watching and waiting for her reaction with quiet amusement.

‘They are sweethearts, Miss Lockwood,’ he said quietly by way of explanation, smiling broadly at her sudden confusion and the hot flush that sprang to her cheeks.

‘Oh—I see.’

‘You do? Every dinner time, when food and drink have been taken, Mandy Cooper always gives Simon Archer a nod and a wink and he knows what it means. Mandy wants him to take her to the shade and privacy behind the hedge and—’

‘Please don’t go on,’ Juliet gasped quickly, before he could go into detail about what they got up to behind the hedge. He didn’t seem to mind that Simon Archer was only too happy to oblige Mandy Cooper in the harvest field. She lowered her head, grateful for the wide brim of her bonnet hiding her embarrassed confusion. It would never do to let him think he had her at a disadvantage.

Dominic chuckled softly. ‘They are to be married at Christmas,’ he told Juliet, as if this made everything all right.

‘Please don’t go on. It isn’t something I consider funny, even if you do,’ she informed him haughtily.

‘Of course I find it amusing. I’m always entertained by the amorous antics of others.’

‘I expect you would be,’ she retorted sharply before she could stop herself.

Comprehending her meaning, his eyes narrowed. ‘So, Miss Lockwood, my reputation has preceded me.’

‘Yes. Do you deny that you have a certain—reputation, your Grace?’

‘I would do so with alacrity, if I didn’t think the answer would disappoint you,’ he answered, a faint smile playing on his lips. Reaching out he brushed her hair with his fingers. She pulled back in surprise and he laughed, holding a piece of straw that had become entangled. She sighed and met his gaze. ‘At heart I am a true romantic.’

‘Are you suggesting I find anything—remotely interesting about the idea that you are a womaniser, Lord Lansdowne?’ Juliet exclaimed, colouring hotly at the implication that she might find something attractive about the fact that he enjoyed the reputation of a libertine.

He chuckled softly. ‘It’s a talking point, if nothing else. Although it might be difficult for a monumentally respectable young woman like yourself to understand.’

‘I don’t know of any other womanisers, your Grace, so, yes, I do find such behaviour difficult to understand. But I meant no disparagement of your character.’

‘And I would wager that you would not have said that if I were not your employer, Miss Lockwood. I’m sure you would give me a severe dressing down, which some would say I deserve.’

‘Perhaps you do. It’s not for me to say.’

‘How old are you, Miss Lockwood?’

Her eyes locked on his. ‘You know perfectly well how old I am, Lord Lansdowne. It was on my reference when I applied for the position.’

‘Twenty-three, I believe. Not on the shelf yet.’

He grinned and she flushed, uneasy about this inappropriate turn in the conversation.

‘I—I can’t make out the time,’ she said quickly, busying herself with the basket, ‘but I suppose everyone will soon have to begin work. I’ll stay and help Dolly with the basket. We can go back to the house together.’

His gaze shifted from the hedge to her. ‘Not until I’ve heard you laugh again. You should laugh often.’

Juliet shook her head and lowered her eyes, unsure how she felt about the way he was looking at her. She relaxed and managed to smile, finding it hard not to when he spoke to her in that silken voice.

‘I confess I haven’t laughed so much since I was at the Academy—when I was eleven years old.’

When he realised she wasn’t going to elaborate, with his lips twitching with amusement, Dominic said, ‘Since you’re obviously reluctant to share it with me, as a duke and your employer I insist that you do, Miss Lockwood.’

‘Must I?’ she said, laughter not far away. ‘Have you no mercy, your Grace?’

‘None whatsoever—and not when you address me as your Grace.’

‘But it wasn’t that interesting.’

‘I don’t care. Make it up. That’s an order, Miss Lockwood. Pray continue.’

She sighed and sat back on her heels. ‘If you insist.’

‘I do.’

‘Well,’ she murmured, her voice softening as she looked back into her past, ‘at the Academy we had a particularly strict teacher called Miss Murdoch. She was tall and willowy with a pointed face and a pair of extremely penetrating green eyes. Nothing ever escaped her and if any of the girls failed to come up with the correct marks in lessons, she was vicious with a ruler over one’s knuckles.’

‘And what subjects did this monster of a teacher teach?’

‘English, history and music. As you know, my musical talents are sadly lacking, my singing offensive to the ears, but Miss Murdoch would insist that if I tried harder I would get better. She made me play the piano in front of the whole Academy once, which turned out to be a total disaster; instead of blaming herself for making me do it, she blamed me not doing enough practice and gave me such a rattling on my knuckles that I couldn’t have played the piano for a week if I’d wanted to.’

Dominic felt an unexplainable surge of anger at the dreadful Miss Murdoch. ‘What has that to do with laughter, Miss Lockwood? It sounds more like torture to me.’

‘There is a humorous side to the story,’ she said with a breezy smile and waving her hand dismissively, ‘and it wasn’t just me she had it in for. A few of the girls got together and decided to wreak their revenge. We sprinkled itching powder between her sheets one night. The poor woman came out in a dreadful rash and couldn’t stop scratching herself for days,’ she confessed with twinkling eyes.

‘I assume the poor woman never found out the truth?’

‘Oh, no. Never,’ she replied merrily. ‘We would all have been expelled for sure. But I shall never forget the look on her face when she came down to breakfast the next morning. She had the reddest face you ever did see and she had to leave the room because she couldn’t sit still.’

‘And you got your revenge?’

‘Absolutely. But nothing changed. She was still the same sour Miss Murdoch, but we were cheered by it at the time.’

Dominic smiled, but his voice was quiet, seductive, thinking how lovely she was. The light breeze had whipped strands of hair around her face into a frame of soft, feathery curls. ‘After what you have told me, now I know what sadistic cruelties you are capable of, I must remember never to get on the wrong side of you, Miss Lockwood. Next time your revenge may take you beyond itching powder.’

‘Things were different then. I am no longer eleven years old.’

‘So you didn’t make it up?’

‘No. It may surprise you, but I didn’t and at the time it was more hilarious than the telling over ten years later.’

Seeing everyone returning to work, the men picking up their sickles, Dominic hauled himself to his feet and looked down at her. As she tried to get up, her legs stiff because she’d been sitting on them, he reached down and took both of her hands in his, drawing her easily to her feet.

She looked up at him, very conscious of how close together they were standing, and the almost casual intimacy of their actions, which nevertheless was most inappropriate considering her position.

‘When all the harvest has been gathered in,’ he said, ‘you must come to the harvest-home supper. It’s a night not to be missed, when everyone from miles around comes together. It’s held in Farmer Shepherd’s barn.’

‘I’d like that. Thank you.’ While Dolly shoved the remaining leftover food into the basket she watched him turn and walk away to begin work.

One afternoon, when she was sorting through some manuscripts, someone walked in. Raising her head, she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when she recognised the young man, Sir Charles Sedgwick, who she had seen on her arrival at Lansdowne House, the same man who had been insufferably rude.

She caught her breath as he sauntered towards her. The picture of him and the lovely Geraldine flashed in her mind. She saw him leaning over to caress her neck, and how Geraldine had almost purred like a cat with the pleasure it. It was like an erotic engraving come to life. She forced the unwelcome images out of her mind and tried to compose herself. His pale blond hair was thick and as shiny as silk. He was good looking all right, no question about it, but fortunately she knew him for what he was and was completely immune to Charles Sedgwick’s kind of potent sexual allure.

When he reached the table she managed to give him a cool, indifferent glance. Shoving some books aside that she had stacked up to be rebound and perching his hip on the edge, he folded his arms across his chest, looking very pleased with himself.

‘Well, well, Miss Lockwood, we meet again,’ he drawled, quizzing her at close range with open male interest. His seductive, smoky blue eyes appraised her and a lazy smile curved his mouth, for the ravishing young beauty bore no resemblance to the pale, bedraggled little sparrow who had interrupted their dinner.

Juliet raised one eyebrow at him and regarded him coolly. ‘I am surprised you can remember, since I wasn’t looking my best.’

‘I must have been well into my cups not to see how lovely you are—and I shall endeavour to see a good deal more of you while you are here.’

‘Really? I think I am right to be wary of you. You look like a scoundrel to me.’

‘And you would know what a scoundrel looks like, would you, Miss Lockwood?’

She raised her eyes to his. ‘Oh, yes, Sir Charles. I have come across men like you before and always stay well clear. Now, will you please go away? I am trying to work.’

He grinned. ‘I am a very persistent fellow, Miss Lockwood.’ His voice was pleasant, almost playful, but there was nevertheless a steely edge to it. ‘I am a good-natured, gregarious sort of chap, and you are a beautiful young woman, the employee of my best friend—if I can make your life a little more cheerful while you are here then why should I not endeavour to do so?’

‘Why not indeed?’ Juliet uttered drily. ‘It is obvious to me that you have a way with women—with everybody come to that, even the Duke himself—but my instinct tells me that you will do me no good. Do you flirt with every woman you meet, Sir Charles?’

His eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘Only the ones that take my fancy. I find you quite a challenge. Did anyone ever tell you you have wonderful eyes?’

His smile widened and it was such a wonderful, infectious smile. Juliet found herself smiling back. ‘Not lately.’

At that moment Dominic came in, looking most displeased to find Sedgwick perched on the table gazing at Miss Lockwood’s upturned face. Her expression was soft, her generous, full-lipped mouth that raised her beauty to the extraordinary curved in a smile that carried both promise and invitation. A sharp barb of jealously pricked Dominic deeply.

‘I thought I heard your voice, Sedgwick,’ he uttered brusquely. ‘I didn’t invite you to come in here.’

‘I took it upon myself. Always was the impetuous sort.’

‘I see you’ve met Miss Lockwood.’

Sedgwick turned to Dominic with a grin. ‘I most certainly have; had I known she was such a beauty, I would have come to Lansdowne House hot foot. So this is the attraction that keeps you at home, Dominic. I have to say I detect a definite improvement in your taste. My dear Miss Lockwood,’ he said, looking again at Juliet, ‘my hat is off to you. Since your arrival my good friend has not been seen, and I feared he had become a recluse.’ He sent Dominic a twinkling grin.

An embarrassed flush spread over Juliet’s cheeks. ‘Really? If that is so, I assure you it has nothing to do with me.’

‘Miss Lockwood,’ Dominic said, ‘bearing in mind the proprieties, perhaps I should formally present Sir Charles Sedgwick, who purports to be my good friend,’ he growled with some measure of sarcasm.

‘And I’m sure he is,’ Juliet murmured absently, having instantly sensed that Charles Sedgwick was a born womaniser, accustomed to stealing feminine attentions from any other man in the vicinity.




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