Seducing Miss Lockwood. Helen Dickson
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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