The Housemaid's Scandalous Secret by Helen Dickson Page B

lending a charming softness to the hairstyle. In contrast to her dark tresses, her golden skin seemed more fetching by far than other ladies. A faint rosy hue adorned her cheeks and her soft, winsomely curved lips. As for her large, silkily lashed warm amber eyes, their appeal was so strong that he had to mentally shake himself free of their spell.
    ‘I’m trying to read your expression,’ he remarked, giving no indication of where his thoughts had wandered. ‘And as for studying you as if you were an artefact, do not be offended. Artefacts are rare and mysterious things, intriguing and often difficult to interpret. It is not unusual that incorrect conclusions are made about them.’
    Lisette’s hands tightened on the ribbons in her lap. What was he saying? she thought wildly. That he did not see her as a servant? ‘Are you saying that I am a mystery, Colonel? Because if so I assure you I have never thought of myself as either secretive or mysterious. I am no great mystery at all.’
    Ross leaned forward in his chair, and looked at her as if she were of the utmost importance. ‘I know very well what you are—but I also know you are a good person. I’ve never thought otherwise, not for one single moment.’ He paused. ‘I hope my sister is not driving you too hard. Accustomed to socialising with only the best in society, she tends to treat other humans as subjects. She is only happy if she is the centre of attention, being unreasonably demanding and imperious, and she takes violently against anyone who criticises or disagrees with her.’
    Lisette smiled. ‘You judge her too harshly. I have no complaints.’
    He grinned. ‘And you wouldn’t tell me if you had. Your loyalty does you credit. However, I am hoping your calming influence will help keep her in line.’
    ‘It’s not my place to do that.’
    ‘Nevertheless I live in hope.’
    Suddenly remembering her mistress when she heard her call from the bathing chamber, putting her work down Lisette stood up and smoothed her apron. ‘Excuse me. I must get on. I’ll tell Miss Araminta you are waiting.’
    * * *
    Lady Mannering’s two well-sprung travelling chaises travelled north to the splendid Castonbury Park that was the principal Montague residence. The first was occupied by Araminta and Lisette, the second filled to capacity with Ross’s baggage and all of the trunks of clothes and accessories Araminta had deemed absolutely essential for any extended visit.
    Lisette enjoyed the journey through the English countryside. Watching Colonel Montague riding on ahead with Will Blackstock, she longed to be able to join him on horseback. There were times when he tethered his horse to the back of the coach and joined them inside, his long legs stretched out in the luxurious conveyance. She was conscious and more than a little uncomfortable beneath his watchful gaze.
    The weather had turned pleasantly warm and he often discarded his coat. His pristine white shirt and neck cloth contrasted sharply with his black hair and dark countenance. His body, a perfect harmony of form and strength, was like a work of Grecian art and most unsettling to Lisette’s virgin heart. Each time their eyes met her heart tripped in her chest. Araminta’s artless chatter filled any silence that could have been constrained.
    It was the second day of their journey. Strolling away from the inn where, after consuming her dinner, Araminta was making use of the facilities in the ladies’ room, observing Lisette stroll towards a stream that bubbled over its rocky bed to the rear of the inn, Ross smiled slowly and with a wicked glint in his eyes sauntered after her.
    Ross was beginning to discover the whole tenor of his life was changing with Miss Lisette Napier in it. Constant awareness of her presence kept him in a perpetual state of delighted confusion. The stream ran through a sunlit glade. Having removed her shoes and stockings, Lisette was dangling her feet in the cool stream. Gazing at her,