"What a lovely view," she murmured.

Seemingly content to linger, Lady Hartshore regarded her in a quizzical manner.

"Is this your first visit to Kent?"

"Yes."

"Oh, my dear, we must see the sights," the older woman declared in firm tones.

Emma turned toward her with a rise of her brows. "Sights?"

"Yes, indeed." Lady Hartshore gave a firm nod of her head. "There is Heaver Castle, which you know was once the home of poor Anne Boleyn. Such lovely gardens. And Penhurst Place, which belongs to the Sidneys. It has a chestnut-beamed roof, which is quite worth the trip. And, of course, there is Leeds Castle. It is set in the middle of a lake. Quite breathtaking. Elizabeth was imprisoned there, or at least she was until her coronation."

Emma felt a small thrill of anticipation at the thought of viewing the historical structures that she had only read of in books before she was sternly suppressing the renegade emotion.

She was not there to sightsee.

"You mustn't treat me as a guest," she insisted in firm tones. "I am here to help you."

Lady Hartshore gave a click of her tongue. "Nonsense. You are my guest. A most welcome guest."

Emma bit back her words of denial. What was the point? She could clearly not alter Lady Hartshore's refusal to see her as a servant.

The important thing was that she never forget her position at Mayford, she told herself sternly.

It would be far too easy to be seduced into taking advantage of Lady Hartshore's kindness. After the Falwells' disparaging dislike, the sense of warm welcome was a refreshing balm to her heart. But she would be a fool to become accustomed to such friendliness. And an even bigger fool to allow herself to become in any way attached to Lady Hartshore.

In one month she would be leaving. She did not want any complications.

"You are too kind," she at last murmured.

"Not really," Lady Hartshore denied with a twinkle in her eye. "To be truthful, I am being very selfish. I always wished to have a daughter, and now I shall indulge myself."

Emma bit her lip as she turned her blurred gaze back to the window. She would not be swayed, she told herself. She already possessed one unconventional, unpredictable, utterly scandalous family. She did not seek to become a part of another.

"You have no children?"

Lady Hartshore heaved a sigh. "No, Lord Hartshore and I were never blessed. Although Cedric is as much a son as if he were my own. His parents died when he was quite young, poor dear."

Parents who had chosen a life among society rather than with their own son, Emma recalled Lord Hartshore's dark words.

"Yes, he mentioned that you raised him."

"Such a wonderful boy. It was difficult for him to step into Fredrick's position after his death. They were so very close. But he has managed remarkably well. The tenants adore him and he is very shrewd in business matters. More shrewd than Fredrick, who, I must admit, was forever in the stables rather than his study."

"Yes, I am certain he is very competent," she forced herself to agree.

Despite her best effort, a hint of her annoyance must have been obvious in her tone, and Lady Hartshore gave a small chuckle.

"You mustn't mind his teasing, my dear. Cedric has always found the world a very amusing place and presumes that others share his sense of humor."

Emma sternly refused to allow the image of devilish golden eyes and an annoyingly charming smile to rise to mind.

"Yes," she said stiffly.

As if sensing Emma's reluctance to discuss the roguish Lord Hartshore, the older woman once again linked arms with Emma and began leading her down the hall.

"Now, tell me of your family," she chattered, unaware that her delicate shift of conversation did little to ease Emma's discomfort. "I suppose your parents were very sad to have you travel so far away."

Retreating behind her well-trained defenses, Emma gave a faint shrug.

"Actually my mother died when I was quite young, and I am not close to my father."

"Oh ... I am so sorry, my dear," Lady Hartshore exclaimed with genuine sympathy. "How dreadful for you."

"Oh, no, I've always had my sisters, Sarah and Rachel. They are a comfort to me."

Lady Hartshore patted her hand. "You must feel free to invite them to stay at Mayford. It would be a delight to have them here."

"Perhaps," Emma temporized, knowing she would not be in Kent long enough for any visits, even should she be inclined to extend the offer.

In a companionable silence they continued their way back toward the front parlor, the faint swish of their skirts the only sound to disturb the hushed silence. Emma discovered her tension fading as her gaze skimmed over the exquisite tapestries and gilt gesso chairs that lined the hall. For all the sprawling grandeur of Mayford, Lady Hartshore had managed to create a warmth that was a welcome surprise in such a vast establishment.

Emma halted as Lady Hartshore pushed open the door, then, stepping into the parlor, she halted again, her heart giving a startled jolt at the sight of the tall gentleman standing beside the fire.

Throughout the long night Emma had deliberately kept her thoughts far away from Lord Hartshore. She had known that to dwell upon his disturbing presence would certainly send her fleeing from Mayford. Now she encountered that glittering golden gaze with considerable trepidation.

"Cedric," Lady Hartshore cried at her side. "I did not realize you were here."

"I asked Mallory not to disturb you. I know how busy your mornings can be."

"Oh, yes, it was quite hectic. Thankfully Miss Cresswell proved to be a valuable ally."

"I am not at all surprised." Lord Hartshore turned his attention to the silent Emma. "I do hope your ankle is improved?"

"Very much, thank you."

"What brings you to Mayford, my dear?" Lady Hartshore demanded.

"Actually I wished to speak with Miss Cresswell," he admitted in blunt tones.

Emma stiffened, but Lady Hartshore seemed to find nothing peculiar in his request to speak with her companion. Indeed, a most worrisome smile suddenly curved her lips.

"Oh, I see. Well, I shall ensure that Bart is not disturbing the gardeners. He does not comprehend how difficult it is to keep dependable servants."

Emma waited in rigid silence as Lady Hartshore swept from the room and even went so far as to shut the door behind her.

Traitor, she thought as Lord Hartshore slowly strolled toward her.

Against her will she was once again struck by just how astonishingly handsome this man was. Although his buckskins and deep green coat were more casual than she was accustomed to in the city, they were fitted with spectacular precision to reveal every lean muscle.

Far too many lean muscles, she acknowledged before jerking her gaze to the dark, exquisitely carved features.

As if sensing her embarrassing awareness of his decidedly male body, Lord Hartshore deliberately did not halt until he was standing far too close.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked softly, no doubt well aware she had lain awake all night.

His warm, sweet breath brushed her cheek, and it was only stubborn pride that kept her from backing from his looming form.

"Well enough."

"You at least have some color in your cheeks."

Dratted man. He must know that it was his presence putting color in her cheeks.

"Why did you wish to speak with me?"

"Can we have a seat?"

She paused, then gave a small shrug. "If you wish."

He stood aside to allow her to precede him to the sofa, then, waiting for her to perch stiffly on the edge, he lowered himself next to her. Unlike her, however, he lounged back in perfect ease.

"You needn't perch on the edge of the cushion, Miss Cresswell. I am not about to pounce."

She regarded him sourly. "After our last encounter, I can hardly be expected to know what you intend."

"I must protest, my dear." The golden eyes sparkled. "I did not pounce. I merely took advantage of a fortunate situation."

"Fortunate for you perhaps."

"Oh, yes, very fortunate." He carefully watched the fine shiver that she could not prevent before giving a small laugh. "However, today I desire nothing more scandalous than a polite conversation. Surely not even you can find fault with such an innocent request?"

Five.

Cedric had faithfully promised himself that he would not attempt to provoke Miss Cresswell.

After all, he had half expected to arrive at Mayford to discover she had vanished into the mist. When he was assured that she was still in residence, he had silently warned himself not to give her cause to bolt.

Unfortunately his good intentions had disappeared as swiftly as lobster patties upon Prinny's plate.

And who could blame him?

What gentleman could resist bringing a sparkle to those magnificent eyes and a blush to her cheeks? That brittle composure she shrouded around herself was an insult to the warm woman beneath.

She should be filled with laughter and the simple delight of being alive. Not so tightly clenched that she appeared she might crack beneath the burdens she carried deep inside.

Carefully studying the stiff lines of her features, he watched her sternly smother her shiver of awareness behind a pretense of indifference.

"A conversation with you is rarely innocent, my lord."

His lips twitched. "I assure you that I can be the very model of a proper gentleman when I choose."

"Why do you suppose I find that difficult to believe?" she said dryly.

"I haven't the least notion. You have only to ask my aunt. She will assure you that I am above reproach."

A hint of exasperated amusement could be detected deep in her eyes. "She could hardly say otherwise."

"Perhaps," Cedric agreed, then he gave a faint tilt of his head. "What do you think of her?"

There was a moment's pause, as if she considered lying, then apparently realizing that no one with a breath of sense would believe Lady Hartshore was anything but adorable, she gave a shrug.

"She is very kind."

"Yes, she is." Cedric slowly leaned forward to peer deep into her eyes. "She is also patient, loyal, and very generous. I cannot imagine a finer woman."

Unable to deny the truth of his words, she abruptly lowered her gaze.

"Is that what you wished to discuss with me?"

With her gaze averted, Cedric was allowed to openly study the pale, nearly translucent skin that was stretched over the delicate bones of her face. It was a skin that begged for a man's touch.

His touch.

It took a surprising effort to keep his hands from rising to trace the line of her cheek and press the lush fullness of her lips.

Provoking a glitter to her eyes was one thing, pulling her in his arms and ravishing her on the settee was quite another.

"In a manner of speaking." He forced himself to concentrate on the reason for his visit. Although ravishing her on the sofa was a far more tantalizing reason for visiting, he acknowledged ruefully. "Have you given any thought to my proposition?"

Her hands clenched on her lap. "Of course."

"You will stay?" he asked softly.

She sucked in a deep breath before reluctantly lifting her gaze. "I agree to remain one month."

Cedric smiled as he released the breath he did not even realize he had been holding.

"I hoped you would say that."

Her own expression remained guarded. "You will still have to find a new companion."