Seducing Miss Lockwood

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.