The Defiant Debutante. Helen Dickson

to do.’

      ‘I have a formidable temper myself,’ he told her with icy calm.

      ‘I do not come under the category of property, Lord Montgomery, and I am not asking you for anything. In the eyes of the law Uncle Henry is my legal guardian, and if you wish to challenge that then you are free to do so.’

      ‘I have no intention of doing any such thing.’ His words were like a whiplash, his eyes glacial. ‘My uncle has taken you in and does not need to justify his actions to me or anyone else. What matters is that you are in this house under his guardianship and a member of this family, and because I care a great deal for his happiness, I will do nothing about it. But in time I suspect you will show your true colours without any help from me—so I advise you to take care, unless you want to be shipped back to America, lock, stock and barrel.’

      Angelina glared at him, two bright spots of colour burning on her cheeks. She refused to look away, but there was little she could say in her defence. This man had already made up his mind about her, and anything she might say would be futile. He was convinced she was a clever, scheming opportunist out to rid his uncle of his last shilling, and nothing she said was going to change his mind.

      ‘Have you nothing to say for yourself?’

      ‘What’s the point? There is no argument against a closed mind. You made up your mind about me before I set foot on English soil.’

      Alex contemplated her with a half-smile. ‘It may surprise you to learn that before I met you I was prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt.’

      ‘And now?’

      ‘That still applies. You accuse me of making up my mind about you before I met you. I accuse you of doing likewise. You also summed up your opinion of me,’ Alex stated. ‘From the moment you entered this house, no doubt you have listened to gossip from below stairs, but whatever you have heard, forget it. You don’t know me.’

      Angelina could not look away from him—in fact, unconsciously her feet took her slowly back to where he still perched on the edge of the desk, her rebellious eyes holding his. She stood close, her face on a level with his, her skirts brushing his tan boots.

      ‘You’re wrong. I may only have been in your presence a few minutes,’ she countered, ‘but I have made a very accurate assessment of your character.’

      ‘Do you normally form an opinion of a person after so short a time?’ he asked, trying to ignore the delectable attributes that stood just within his easy reach. Instantly, his whole body began to hum an ardent, familiar song that clashed with what he should be feeling.

      ‘In your case it was not difficult,’ she provided. ‘You are rude, overbearing and dictatorial, and you have the manners of a barbarian.’

      Alex arched his brows, faint amusement and a stirring of respect in the icy depths of his eyes. ‘That bad?’

      ‘Worse. You are cold and heartless and I cannot abide your superior male attitude—your insufferable arrogance and conceit.’

      He looked at her with condescending amusement that in time she would come to detest. ‘And you, madam, with a tongue on you that would put a viper to shame, can hardly be called a paragon of perfection.’

      ‘Go to hell,’ she blazed, which was most uncharacteristic of her. But at that moment she was sorely tempted to fling more than abuse at Alex Montgomery and inflict physical damage. No doubt this infuriating man was already telling himself that she was showing her ‘true colours’. She cast a look of pure loathing at him, noting that her words had brought a satisfied smile to his arrogant mouth.

      His dark brows rose and he gave her a lofty, superior look. ‘I shall, but I shall go in my own way and in my own good time.’

      ‘It cannot be too soon for me.’

      Afraid that she was going to crack completely and make a fool of herself, Angelina raised her chin and turned. With all the dignity she could muster she picked up her boots and left the room, her slender hips swaying graciously. She didn’t see the admiring light in Alex’s eyes, or the indefinable smile lurking at the corner of his lips as he observed her less than dignified progress through the hall, for as she stormed towards the stairs she almost knocked over an elderly manservant who was carrying a silver platter.

      The poor man halted in his progress and turned and watched her go halfway up the stairs, wondering what could have happened to wipe away her sweet expression and replace it with one of black thunder. His answer came when he glanced through the open door into the library and saw Lord Montgomery still perched on the edge of the desk. Shaking his head, he chuckled. His lordship was home, which explained everything.

      Alex couldn’t think of anyone, male or female, who would have stood up to him the way Angelina had just done, verbally attack him and walk away as regal as any queen. The girl had spirit, a fiery spirit that challenged him. Her arrogance was tantamount to disrespect, yet in spite of himself he admired her style. Nor was she afraid of him. That was the intriguing part about her.

      He allowed himself to remember her face, an alluring face, captivating and expressive, he decided. Her chin was small and round, with an adorable, tiny little cleft in the centre. But it was her eyes he remembered most—enormous, liquid bright—the kind of eyes a man wanted to see looking up at him when he was about to make love.

      Idly he picked up the books she had selected to read and left behind. On opening them he stared, so taken aback that he almost laughed out loud. Alex had a familiarity with the ways of the female sex, but nothing had prepared him for this.

      Ornithology! Horses!

      When all the women of his acquaintance read romantic poetry and cheap, insipid novelettes that had a deleterious effect on their impressionable minds, Angelina Hamilton preferred reading about birds and horses. He chuckled, shaking his head slowly in disbelief. The girl was a phenomenon.

      Setting his jaw, with purposeful strides he left the library and climbed the stairs to her room, rapping sharply on the door. Angelina opened it herself, glowering when she saw who it was.

      ‘Well? What do you want?’ she snapped, fully prepared for another angry confrontation. ‘Have you come to tell me that the war is over and I’ve won?’

      ‘No. In view of my former rudeness, I’ve come to make amends,’ he told her, standing in the doorway in a misleading, indolent manner.

      Angelina eyed him warily. ‘Have you? You seem unsure.’

      Alex raised his eyebrows quizzically. Without being invited to do so he stepped past her, as bold as may be, his eyes settling like a winter chill on her terrified maid. ‘Leave us.’

      Pauline looked nervously at Angelina, who nodded. ‘It’s all right, Pauline. I don’t think Lord Montgomery intends to ravish me,’ she said, her voice dripping sarcasm, ‘since the only emotion I seem to rouse in him is a desire to strangle me. Not wishing to be hanged for my murder, I think we can safely assume he will keep his hands to himself.’

      Alex’s face was set in an almost smiling challenge. ‘Don’t be so certain. I am sorely tempted. I could break you in half like a twig if I so wished and to hell with the consequences.’

      ‘Lord Montgomery,’ Angelina retorted sharply, dark eyes locking on grey ones, ‘if you plan another battle, you can leave right this minute.’

      ‘Nothing so dramatic—merely a mild skirmish.’

      Pauline gaped, amazed at her mistress’s courage. No one ever spoke to Lord Montgomery in that tone. Bobbing a hurried curtsy she scuttled out.

      ‘Well?’ said Angelina, feeling strangely threatened now the closed door separated her from Pauline.

      ‘You left your books,’ he said, holding them out to her.

      Disarmed, she was completely taken aback. ‘Oh! Thank you,’ Taking them from him, she placed them on a chair. ‘Why did you dismiss Pauline?’

      ‘I