Seducing Miss Lockwood. Helen Dickson

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