That Despicable Rogue (9 page)

‘I see,’ he said in amusement. ‘You feel that it is improper for me to offer you my arm?’

Hannah nodded, more than a little relieved when he shrugged and dropped the offending limb back to his side. ‘I am your employee, sir. Employees do not, as a rule, take their employer’s arms under any circumstances.’

‘Or kiss them?’

Hannah felt a hot blush stain her cheeks. ‘Indeed. You most definitely overstepped the boundary last night. But you were drunk, so I will forgive you.’

‘I could not help noticing that you were
not
drunk, Prim, and yet you kissed me back.’ He winked at her and smiled smugly.

‘I most definitely did not! You caught me by surprise with your outrageous behaviour! You cannot go around manhandling the staff,’ she declared, sounding a great deal like a schoolmistress reprimanding an errant pupil.

Once again she was telling him off—not that he did not deserve it—but she really had to make an effort. Her whole future depended on it.

Hannah decided to change the subject tactically. ‘I spoke to Reggie this afternoon. He confirmed that you did indeed inherit him with a building—although he tells the tale a little differently from you.’

‘Does he? What did he say?’

He had stuffed his hands into his pockets—something a gentleman would never do—and she could not fail to notice his casual attire. The light breeze moulded the soft linen of his shirt to the hard planes of his chest and shoulders, emphasising his lean and muscular body. She now knew a little of what that body felt like, and it was not at all unpleasant.

Despite her disapproval, she could see what other women found appealing about him. He was irritatingly handsome. His dark, almost black hair was ever so slightly ruffled, and it curled a little at the nape of his neck and around his forehead. His sea-green eyes always seemed to be twinkling with amusement, as if he found the whole world and everyone in it one big joke that only he understood.

‘Reggie told me that you rescued him from a life of mindless violence—like a hero.’

He stopped and stared at her astounded. ‘He did? That sounds positively gushing.’ Then he grinned. ‘But I suppose there is no point denying the truth. I am, in actual fact, a saint.’

Hannah could not help smiling at the self-deprecating way he dismissed the praise, as if it was of no matter. ‘He also said that you moved him out of the warehouse during a particularly harsh winter.’

‘He most definitely did not say that, Prim. For a start I have never heard him use the word “particularly”. It has far too many syllables in it. And, secondly, he firmly believes that I needed him to look after me.’

‘But you do not deny that the cold winter had a bearing on your decision?’ she teased. ‘Therefore I have to believe that you have a charitable streak buried under all that charm and bravado.’

He turned towards her and did his best impression of a man affronted. ‘Hardly. The cold winter notwithstanding, I could not keep him in the warehouse. It was filled with Chinese porcelain at the time and I feared that he would break it all. You must have noticed how clumsy he is. I was simply protecting my investment.’ Then he grinned boyishly. ‘And now I am stuck with him.’

‘Of course you are. That is why you have moved him into one of the family bedrooms here at Barchester Hall.’ Hannah was intrigued to see how he was going to get around that particular fact.

He stopped momentarily and glared at her with his hands on his hips. ‘Have you not seen the
size
of the oaf? He is built like an oak tree! The beds in the servants’ quarters would shatter into matchsticks if he rested his enormous bulk on one of them. I put him in that room because it has the sturdiest bed.’

His amused eyes locked with hers, and for a moment she basked in their warmth, then he shrugged, stuffed his hands back in his pockets and started to walk again—as if he knew that she could read the truth in his eyes but admitting the truth about himself made him feel uncomfortable.

‘Now that I know that you are not a widowed hag I am a little intrigued about your background. Tell me a little bit about
you
, Prim.’

Chapter Nine

H
annah felt a jolt of nerves and tried to brush him off with banality as she quickened her pace. ‘There is nothing interesting to tell. The decorators will start work on the morning room tomorrow. We should probably discuss how you would like the hallway to be done, so that I can order the materials. I was thinking green would look good—not so dark as to be oppressive—perhaps a sage-green would be appropriate?’

‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ he said, wagging his finger in admonishment and purposefully slowing his gait. ‘I will not allow you to change the subject. If you will not volunteer information about yourself I shall have to ask you questions—and as your employer I will demand that you answer them honestly. For example, you are such a pretty girl—why are you not married?’

Hannah felt her smile instantly slip and struggled to retain it. She was not entirely sure of the answer herself. A version of the truth would be easier for her to remember, she realised, feeling a little sick as memory assaulted her.

‘I think those years passed me by, sir,’ she admitted, hoping that it sounded convincing. ‘When my parents died I went to live with my aunts for a while. After that I had to seek employment.’ She kept the small lie to a minimum and hoped he would not probe her story further.

He digested this for a moment or two. ‘Then why not become a governess? Surely your age and marital status would not be an issue with such a position? And at least you would have more free time and less responsibility.’

Another innocent question that reopened old wounds. Children were one more thing that would not be in her future now. ‘I lack the patience required to look after other people’s children, sir. Also, I lack some of the finer skills that many good families insist upon in a governess. My piano-playing is abysmal, at best, and I have no talent for languages.’

He appeared a little confused, and then shook his head. ‘How peculiar,’ he said finally. ‘I would have thought that the most important thing to do for a child is to love it.’ He stopped walking and turned to her. ‘I am not sure I will ever fully understand the gentry, Prim. I am trying—but half of what they do truly baffles me.’

‘I think you must give specific examples, sir. What baffles you?’

‘Too many things to list now. But there are quite a few that you might be able to shed some light on, seeing as you have worked for them. Why, for instance, is it considered poor form to introduce yourself to somebody? Why must I wait an age for somebody
else
to introduce me when I am perfectly capable of doing that for myself?’

‘I am not sure that I know,’ she replied with a smile, ‘except that it is the proper order of things.’

He pulled a face. ‘And why is it improper to dance with the same lady more than once at a ball?’

‘I can answer
that
! To dance with a woman more than once declares to everybody that you have a particular interest in her.’

‘Surely that is the whole point of dancing with her in the first place?’ He looked outraged. ‘Why else would a man prance around the floor like an idiot unless he wants to let the woman know he has a particular interest in her?’

Hannah sighed dramatically. ‘But you would be announcing your interest in
public
. People would get ideas.’

‘Where I come from we
want
people to get ideas. It lets them know that they should back off. I wouldn’t want some other fella going after my girl.’

It was the first time his diction had slipped in her presence, alluding to his coarse roots, but she found it strangely charming instead of repulsive.

‘And why on
earth
is a man judged by his ability to ride a horse?’

‘Good horsemanship is a skill that all gentlemen are taught almost from the moment they can walk,’ she said in response. ‘Ladies embroider and gentlemen ride.’

‘Then I shall
never
be a gentleman,’ he declared resolutely. ‘I do not care for horses.’

‘Why ever not? Most horses are gentle beasts who like people.’

He glared at her for a second, and then shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Horses do not like me. They have a tendency to evacuate their bowels whenever I go near them.’

Hannah laughed derisively at this ridiculous statement. ‘I think you are being a tad over-dramatic, sir.’

‘I am not. I speak from experience. My first job was as an ostler at a coaching inn. I only lasted two days! Every single horse I came into contact with soiled my boots. And I tried riding once. It frankly terrified me.’

He looked so aggrieved that she could not help sniggering. ‘What was it that frightened you?’

He thought for a moment, and then gave her a rare glimpse of the man beneath all the bravado.

‘In hindsight...nothing. I suppose it was being at the mercy of the animal. I need to be in control of things. If I am not I feel uncomfortable.’ He was starting to look a little uncomfortable at this admission too, but he quickly covered it with another boyish grin. ‘We are talking about me again. You are very good at distracting me. Where were we? Ah, yes—you and marriage. You are still young, Prim. Perhaps...’

‘There is no “perhaps”. I have no intention of getting married now.’

He appeared genuinely bemused. ‘Why ever not?’

‘The older I get, the more I appreciate my independence, sir. If I was married I would have to live my life at the mercy of my husband’s whims and edicts. I prefer to be in control of my own destiny—much like you do, apparently, so you of all people should understand.’

His dark eyebrows drew together and he frowned. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, that is a very cynical attitude, Prim. I like to be in control of my business and my life, but I have no intention of behaving like a tyrant towards my future wife. I should imagine that marriage is a very pleasant state to find oneself in—so long as it is with the right person.’

‘Why, then, are you not married, sir?’ she responded sarcastically.

‘I am not averse to the idea. I just do not have the time to go hunting for the right woman yet. Once my sister is happily settled with a decent man then I will. I believe I shall settle down to marital bliss quite happily. Until then I prefer to keep my options open.’

‘I thought your sister was much younger than you? Why would you put off your own wedding until after hers?’

‘I should like to know that she is well taken care of before I divert my attention from her welfare. She is young and impressionable, and therefore ripe for fortune-hunters or scoundrels to take advantage of her.’

Hannah regarded him sceptically. ‘I see. And your current lady-friend—does she know that you do not consider her an “option”, as you put it, for being the future Mrs Jameson?’

He threw back his dark head and laughed. ‘You really are quite forthright, aren’t you, Miss Prim? Francesca was never an “option”—and, to be fair, she was well aware of that fact. Francesca was merely a...dalliance...a convenient outlet for a little while.’ At her bemused expression he clarified. ‘Lust. I know that you are quite familiar with the concept, Prim.’

He climbed over a stile briskly, and then took her hand as she stepped up, artfully grabbing her around the waist and slowly lowering her down, his hot gaze raking over her and making her far too aware of him. He paused for a moment before releasing her, and then tugged her closer instead, his eyes darkening as they fixed on her lips, his face inches from her own.

Hannah held her breath at this unexpected physical contact, and blinked back at him in confusion as her body began to hum with need even as she desperately willed it not to. Slowly she brought her hands up to rest on his chest, ready to push him away. She could not let him overwhelm her senses again.

‘So now am I a convenient “dalliance”, sir? How demeaning.’

Instantly he took a step back and released her. Then he sighed. ‘You make me feel ashamed, Prim, but I am only human. Lust is nothing more than a basic animal instinct—much like needing food or air. But you are right. It is unfair of me to direct it at you.’

They walked on a little further in silence.

‘Why do you want to get married one day?’ Hannah could not help being curious. The idea of him settled with one woman when he was such an outrageous flirt was difficult to imagine.

‘I have every intention of filling this house with a large and noisy family.’ He shot her a look that suggested he was looking forward to
making
the children. ‘And I happen to think I will make a good father.’

His self-confidence was quite astounding, and Hannah snorted. ‘Really. And what has led you to make that conclusion?’

‘I had a good role model,’ he countered quickly.

She snorted again. ‘You told me your father was a forger!’

‘Exactly! That made him a perfect role model. I firmly believe that you can learn just as much—sometimes more—from other people’s mistakes as from their successes. My father taught me how
not
to do things. So long as I never do anything he did then I know I am on the right path. Aside from that, I do not want to be lonely when I am an old man. Surely you don’t want that either?’

Once again he had turned the tables on her and put her on the spot.

Hannah shrugged. ‘I am used to being on my own.’

The house in Yorkshire was very remote but she had managed well enough—even if the days had dragged and the nights had felt interminable and at times she had wanted to weep from loneliness.

‘I think that is a shame,’ he said after a pause. ‘But I suppose it is your choice. If you do not want to get married, what
are
your hopes for the future?’

‘To own my own home,’ she said without hesitation, and gave him a reluctant smile. ‘I want a place where I can live out my days according to my own whims. Like you, I want to be in control. Not being makes me feel uncomfortable too.’

‘It will still be a lonely place with nobody to share it. You will end up like poor old Runcorn in his untended grave. Who will put flowers down for
you
?’

His words hurt her—not because he was being deliberately cruel, but because they were a hard dose of reality. If everything went the way she wanted it she might well be buried in that same plot, next to a mother she did not know, an indifferent father and a reckless and neglectful brother. That was a very dire prospect indeed. Was that
really
all her future held?

There was something about this man that had her questioning her own strongly held beliefs and making her doubt them.

‘Are you aware of the fact that the dog is still following you?’ she asked in desperation.

He stared straight ahead. ‘Ignore him. He will go away.’

She turned back to the filthy, panting animal trotting along happily in their wake. ‘I doubt it,’ she said. ‘He has been following us for ten minutes now. Did you do anything to encourage him?’

‘Of course I didn’t. Do I
look
like a soft touch? The blasted animal has just latched on to me. As soon as he realises he is not welcome he will go away.’

But the animal did not. It trotted behind them all the way back to Barchester Hall, his long tongue lolling happily out of his mouth and his eyes fixed stoically on Jameson’s legs.

Hannah entered the kitchen first, and left him to deal with the mongrel alone.

‘Right, Dog,’ he said decisively. ‘This is where we part company.’

The fact that he was trying to reason with the mutt using conversation made her smile.

Reggie wandered into the kitchen and watched Ross quizzically. ‘What’s he doing?’ he asked Hannah as he munched on an apple, unaware of the fact that he was spraying juice all over the place.

‘He is trying to tell a stray dog to go away,’ she replied laughingly. ‘Although he is not doing a particularly good job of it.’

‘Huh! He won’t get rid of it,’ muttered Reggie with resignation as he took a look at the animal for himself. ‘Ross is too kind-hearted.’ Then he shouted to the man in question. ‘Shall I give it a bath and a bit of dinner, Ross?’

Hannah watched Jameson roll his eyes in a manner that she recognised as his
I am so put upon
expression, and then he sighed.

‘Yes, Reggie. Do that.’

As he turned and stalked into the kitchen he paused briefly in front of her with a playful look in his eyes.

‘And I will thank you not to say anything, madam.’

‘I would not dream of it, sir,’ she said to his retreating back, and felt her lips twitching with amusement. He really was kind-hearted. And nice to talk to. And to kiss.

Immediately she checked herself. Good grief, at this rate he was going to charm her thoroughly too. At some point during their walk back to the house she had forgotten that she hated him. And perhaps she did not any more. But she still certainly disliked him. Quite a bit.