The grandfather clock in the hall outside chimed twelve o’clock with an annoying succession of loud bongs.
“I might get rid of that clock,” he said with a husky laugh.
She gathered up her gloves. “I must go. It has grown late, and I have a great deal to do in the morning.”
She sounded as unsettled as he was. The air seemed charged with unspoken emotion.
“Of course.” He rose with her and took her slender, soft hand in his, tempted to raise it to his lips. He restrained himself.
She withdrew her hand.
He walked with her to the door and opened it, startling his drowsy footman. “Sleep well, Miss Jenner.”
“And you, sir.” She slipped out, leaving a trace of her perfume.
Dominic retreated into the room, stunned at what had just happened. He was hardly a green youth. And yet, he’d come within a hair’s breadth of losing control. He was both relieved not to act in the rakish manner he’d just denounced, and conversely, regretful that he hadn’t.
Miss Jenner hailed from the gentry. Her ancestors might well have been wealthy and important men, her grandfather undoubtedly was, but she did not live by the standards of theton. And she gave him little reason to believe she’d behave as freely as some of the ladies of his acquaintance. With a heavy sigh, he poured himself a brandy. He hadn’t been so unsure of himself since university. But thinking back to the first time they met, he’d somehow perceived that Miss Jenner, Olivia, would shake him to the core. He should have listened to the warning voice in his head. Several large swallows of brandy, and he accepted how glad he was she was here at the hall and part of his life, if only as his housekeeper.
*
Olivia snuffed outher candle and lay staring into the dark. She would never sleep. Her mind was filled with him. With little experience of men of Lord Redcliffe’s ilk, she should never have placed herself in that position. But she’d so enjoyed their conversation. Being with him. Had he wished to kiss her, she wasn’t sure she would have stopped him. And then, she could hardly accuse him of rakish behavior when she’d invited the kiss. He’d been adamant that accusing a man of such behavior was unfair to many. It made her wonder what might have happened to him to earn that title. She frowned. She mustn’t make excuses for him. Or trust him when she barely knew him. And never put herself in that position again.
Perhaps he was motivated by sympathy for her straightened circumstances. She turned over in bed with a huff of annoyance. That was not something she wished. It weakened her and threatened her independence, to which she clung, drawing her fragile confidence around her like a warm shawl.
Olivia rolled over onto her back. Her father used to say there was no smoke without fire. Rakes would coerce a woman to get what they wanted. But this evening, his lordship’s behavior was gentlemanly. She puffed out a breath. Just as well! What would she have done if he’d attempted to seduce her? Call for Jack’s help? Push him away with old-maidish indignation? Pack her luggage and leave here? Or kiss him back? What nonsense. She must be a little drunk.
Growing increasingly annoyed with herself, she steered her thoughts to their card game. She beat Lord Redcliffe at cards! Admittedly, he seemed distracted through most of their play, but still…
Pulling the blanket up around her shoulders, she closed her eyes, but sleep seemed far away. She feared she would droop like a wilting lily in the morning.
Finally, she gave up on sleep, indulging in the memory of that moment, when alone in the drawing room with him, cocooned by the sound of the rain, their polite conversation had faltered. Always, in his presence, she was aware of this powerful, attractive man. But tonight, desire had sparked in his eyes, and she knew he wanted her. Her breath had caught.
Reliving it, Olivia curled her toes. To stir such a man’s desire. Of course, she had no competition, she told herself sternly, fighting to bring herself back to earth. And anything more between them could never be. She must be careful. Her future depended on her remaining aloof from his charm. As Lady Lowry had been eager to tell her, such a man would only want her for a brief affair. And she wanted his respect and approval for what she could achieve here, not just to spark desire in him.
She wrestled her pillow into a more comfortable shape. To be alone with him after two glasses of Madeira and champagne was not only reckless, it could have been a grave mistake. She should have excused herself and left when Williams did. Why hadn’t she?
She simply must never place herself in that position again.
The next morning, the arc of azure sky viewed from her office window held the promise of a sunny day. As Olivia worked on the menus and supplies for the following week, Jack knocked on her door.
“His lordship is at the Graves’ farm, Miss Jenner. They are cutting and bailing hay. He wants you to bring him his luncheon.”
Olivia stared at the youth. “Are you sure it wasn’t you he wished to bring it?”
“No, said I’m to drive you in the trap. And you were to tell Cook his lordship wants a loaf of bread and butter, cold chicken, cheese, and pickles, two bottles of ale, and two pieces of the rhubarb pie served at dinner last evening.”
Mystified as to why Lord Redcliffe should send for her, she left her desk. “I will see to it, Jack. Fetch the trap.”
With a hamper loaded with plates, cutlery, glasses, napkins, and the requested food in the back of the trap, Jack drove Olivia along a lane for several miles to the small farm run by Ruben Graves. He took the rundown property over from his father after his death and struggled to keep the farm afloat.
The midday sun burned through her straw bonnet as Jack pulled the horse up at the pasture gate where his lordship’s coat hung. Some distance away across the field, several men slashed at the hay with scythes, then loaded it onto a wagon. It was easy to pick out the earl; Graves and the other workers were shorter. Redcliffe stood and shaded his eyes with a hand, looking her way. Sighting the trap, he strode across through the row of hay bales, naked to the waist, a shirt trailing in his hands.
She gasped. He was magnificent. When he hailed them, he looked completely unabashed. A sheen of sweat burnished his lightly sunburned skin, and a trail of springy dark hair arrowed down from his molded chest to his narrow waist, disappearing into tight breeches. Olivia didn’t know where to look as he pulled the white linen shirt over his head.
She busied herself placing a cloth on the grass and arranging the food.
He stood smiling down at her. “Good of you to come, Miss Jenner.”
