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“Has someone suggested something untoward goes on between us?” By God, he’d not harbor gossips beneath his roof. They’d be given their congé at once.

“No, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.” More than a little starch weighted her words. In her prim uniform and cap, she reminded him of a young novitiate. Only his thoughts regarding her were far from holy.

He crossed to the sideboard and, after pouring himself a generous splash of cognac, glanced her way, the decanter still in hand. “Would you care for any?”

Her winged eyebrows shot upward, and her glorious green eyes rounded in astonishment.

“That’s what I’m speaking of, my lord. You almost treat me as an equal, and that cannot continue. I am not your equal. I would not have your name sullied by any sort of inappropriate association with mine. Furthermore, while I value my position here, I cannot,” she drew her chin up and squared her shoulders, “I cannot risk any further tarnishing of my reputation.”

Not so pixyish today. More Amazonian warrior.

He replaced the decanter, considering her concerns.

It was good, then, that she didn’t travel in the social circles he did, for her name was on many a beau monde denizen’s lips—mainly gentlemen’s. Lauded as the unspoiled country maiden who’d captivated the Earl of Sarcasm with her rare beauty and unsullied innocence.

She needn’t ever know that unsavory tattle, however.

Head angled slightly, Ansley took a sip of cognac. The slow warmth trailing to his stomach was a welcome distraction from the heat simmering in his blood for the delectable minx before him. How many women of his acquaintance would try to entrap him, and here she stood, concerned about his good name and reputation?

“Honestly, Willow, I don’t give a damn what anybody thinks.” He held up his palm to stop her immediate protest. “But I understand why you do. You have much more to lose than I.”

He was rich, titled, an aristocrat with many powerful connections, and was already known for his eccentricities. And for whatever reason, le beau monde had determined the latter made him mysterious. Enigmatic. All the more enticing.

Mysterious, enigmatic, and enticing, indeed. What fulsome rot.

There was no accounting for the peculiarities of the upper ten thousand.

“That is true,” came her soft reply.

Appreciating she didn’t attempt false deference, he strode to the door while flashing her his most engaging smile. A smile he rarely employed. The muscles in his cheeks felt stiff from the unfamiliar usage.

Look at him. Resorting to roguish tactics to impress his housekeeper. He was pathetic. He pressed the latch, then swung the heavy oak wide open. “There. Perfectly respectable.”

“Thank you.” Gratitude relaxed her features. She’d been truly apprehensive.

With a sweep of his free hand, he indicated the square mahogany table situated before the beveled bay window. He preferred to work there rather than at the ancient desk dominating the room. The table’s location provided more light and somehow felt less intimidating.

“I really do wish to discuss the details of the upcoming holiday gathering. My mother is well-meaning,” he said. “But with her flair for the flamboyant, I fear she’ll turn the simple event into a gala beyond compare. Fanfare, feathers, fripperies, and God knows what else.”

With a slight bend of her lovely neck, Willow acquiesced. “Very well, my lord.”

“Could you not address me as Ansley when we are alone?” Such a small, silly thing, but he yearned to hear his name on her tongue. To cover his discomfit, he turned and set his glass upon the stately desk.

Her gaze snapped to his. “You must know I cannot. If I were to be overheard—” She swallowed and averted her eyes. “People would speculate there’s something between us.”

There is. We just don’t know precisely what yet.

At her husky tone, a foreign excitement thrummed through him. If her voice turned him into a rutting stag, how was he to withstand her scintillating presence for weeks? Months? Years?

Blast and damn him for a fool. This was utter madness. How could he ever have thought this arrangement would work?

Nevertheless, he couldn’t end it. She truly had nowhere else to go. He also didn’t doubt for an instant that Willow would refuse to let him establish her own household. She’d be labeled his mistress, for certain. She’d never permit such disgrace to come upon her.

For the present, at least, they were good and stuck with each other.

There were far worse ways to be entrapped, and this debacle was his own making, after all.

Ansley caught her hand as he passed, holding it gently within his and brushing his thumb over the soft back. Her hands hadn’t become work-worn or chaffed. Yet. He didn’t want them ever to do so. Boldly, he traced his forefinger along her jaw with his other hand.