How to Sin Successfully. Bronwyn Scott

anyone to have tracked her this far. She was counting on her uncle’s limited thinking to keep his search rooted to the area closer to home.

      It was immediately clear this was to be no usual sojourn. Maura had thought they’d go to the park in the square across the street with the other neighbours. She’d walked there yesterday with the children. But the sight of Lord Chatham’s open barouche with two matched greys champing at the bit in front of the town house soon disabused her of the notion.

      ‘William, come sit beside me,’ Lord Chatham instructed, getting them all settled with his ever-present charm. ‘A gentleman always sits with his back to the driver and the ladies always sit facing forwards.’

      Maura experienced some relief over that arrangement. She far preferred sitting next to Cecilia. There would be no accidental jostling of thighs or other contact when the carriage hit a bump in the road. She’d feared for a moment she’d have to sit next to him. Not because he repulsed her—quite the opposite, and the attraction was unseemly for one in her position. He was her employer and a rogue of a fellow, too, if Mrs Pendergast was to be believed. His behaviour at dinner had proved as much. He was not averse to flirting with the hired governess and whatever else he could get away with.

      She took her seat next to Cecilia and realised this was worse. Sitting across from him ensured she had to look at him, at his blue eyes, at his broad shoulders, at his long legs, which were booted and crossed at the ankles and dangerously close to hers when they stretched out across the carriage as they were doing now. So much for avoiding any casual contact.

      ‘Where are we going?’ The carriage pulled out into the traffic and Maura couldn’t deny she wasn’t just a little bit excited. This would be her first trip about London. Yesterday in the hired hackney, her mind had been too occupied to look around and the window had been too small to see much of the view even if she had been inclined.

      ‘Regent’s Park. It’s open to the public today, Miss Caulfield. We couldn’t waste the sunshine and the park, especially when it’s only open two days a week. It’s far too great of a treat to pass up, isn’t it?’ Lord Chatham’s blue eyes were twinkling. He knew, drat him. He knew this was as big of a treat for her as it was for the children.

       Chapter Four

      ‘You’re very good with a kite, Miss Caulfield,’ Riordan called out from the boat pond where he and William were sailing the boy’s new model schooner. Miss Caulfield and Cecilia had opted to take advantage of the breezes and it did his heart good to see the little girl running on the green, hoisting the kite into the air on command. He’d half-expected the kite to break, as much else did that Cecilia touched. Riordan supposed it was the nature of being seven and inquisitive. If it had, he’d have bought her a new one, but to his pleasant surprise, the kite had stayed up, ably piloted by Miss Caulfield.

      Riordan smiled, watching Miss Caulfield manoeuvre the kite away from a grove of trees. She’d been a pleasant surprise herself this morning, romping with the children in the nursery. She’d not assigned the task and then stood idly by, ordering the children about like governess Number Three. From the look of her, she’d joined in the game whole-heartedly. She’d been delightfully mussed with her hair coming down and the faintest of smudges on her cheek. It had made him wonder what she’d look like more thoroughly mussed and by a man who knew how—a most arousing mental exercise, to be sure.

      She was certainly a lot prettier than Number Four, Old Pruneface. She was wearing green again, this time an apple-green walking dress with a wide-brimmed hat to match—a hat, he noted, that had been discarded since their arrival. Ah, Miss Caulfield, Riordan thought with a smile, you are more impetuous than you let on.

      The wind changed and the kite took a dive. Cecilia squealed a warning. Miss Caulfield tugged on the twine, but the kite continued to fall. Riordan gauged its trajectory. It was headed for the boating lake. Riordan sprinted towards Miss Caulfield, who was losing the battle. Beside her, Cecilia jumped up and down, frantic.

      ‘Allow me, Miss Caulfield.’ He took over the string and reeled it in, tugging every so often until the kite stabilised. ‘There, Cecilia,’ he assured the little girl, ‘everything’s fine now.’ But he was reluctant to turn the kite over. It had been ages since he’d flown one. He and Elliott had flown plenty of kites, built plenty of kites in their childhood. Miss Caulfield was eyeing him with barely disguised impatience. Apparently she, too, was something of a secret kite aficionado.

      Riordan couldn’t resist showing off, just a little. He waited until he had the kite in a controlled stall before he let the line go slack, then he tugged, turning the kite on its belly in a flat rotation: a smooth, graceful move that mimicked the gentle glide of a bird.

      Cecilia clapped and William was impressed enough to come up from the pond with his boat. ‘Do it again, Uncle Ree!’ He did it several more times, casually lecturing William and Cecilia on the aerodynamics of lift until their interest was satisfied and they ran back to the pond.

      Riordan continued to fly the kite, aware of Miss Caulfield’s eyes on him, studying, wondering. ‘How do you do that?’ Miss Caulfield asked at last. ‘Will you tell me how?’

      Riordan grinned. ‘Better than that, I’ll show you.’ He passed her the spindle of twine and sat down on the grass. ‘All right, here’s lesson number one. Do exactly as I tell you. The first step to an axel turn is a controlled stall. Let the kite hover in the air. Good.’ He leaned back on his elbows, watching the sun turn her hair the colour of burnished copper. The faintest hints of freckles were making an appearance on the bridge of her nose, a small penance for going without her hat.

      His new governess was pretty, slightly mysterious with a dash of impetuosity thrown in—three traits he appreciated in his women. The question was how far could he pursue this? She was in his employ but did that mean he couldn’t flirt a little, especially if she was amenable? She might be. There’d been times at dinner when she’d forgotten she shouldn’t be interested in him. Coaxing her to forget a little more could be fun.

      ‘Now, pull at the twine to turn the nose away from you. Let the line go slack. Wait until one wing drops a little lower than the other and then tug. No.’ Riordan winced as the kite dipped dangerously low in an out-of-control dive. She tried again with no better results.

      Riordan levered himself up off the ground. It was time to intervene. He came up behind her, sliding his hands over hers on the spindle. ‘It’s more of an intuition. You have to feel the moment when the one wing dips.’ She smelled wonderful, light and fresh like honeysuckle and lilac in the spring, but her body was tense. Such close proximity made her self-conscious, as it had in the barouche. If he had to guess, it was because it excited her. ‘Relax, Miss Caulfield. I can hardly ravish you in a public park,’ he whispered playfully against her ear. It wasn’t entirely true. He and Mrs Lennox had proven that claim decidedly false in Green Park last summer. He and Lady Granville had confirmed those findings just a couple of weeks ago, but Miss Caulfield didn’t need to know that.

      Riordan steadied the kite, feeling Miss Caulfield’s tension ease as the kite trick demanded more of her attention. He kept his voice low. ‘Do you feel the slack? Now, wait for it—no, don’t go too soon.’ His hands tightened over hers. ‘Wait for the last possible moment … and … now!’ They tugged together and the kite flat-turned effortlessly.

      ‘It’s like a bird in flight,’ Miss Caulfield breathed.

      ‘Is that the best you can do?’ Riordan teased her. The description seemed far too tame for such a smooth, elegant move. Surely the woman who recklessly took off her hat in the park and imagined a nursery to be the burning town of Bronte just to get it tidied up could do better than that?

      ‘It’s apt,’ Miss Caulfield replied, taking umbrage. ‘What do you think it’s like?’

      He stepped closer to her, his hands tightening gently over hers as he guided the kite into another graceful flat turn. ‘I think it’s like making love to a woman.’ He put his mouth close to her