Hannah watched covertly as Lillian introduced Rafe Bowman to Natalie. She could not see Natalie’s expression, but she had an excellent view of Bowman. His strapping form was clad in a perfectly fitted dark coat, and gray trousers, and a crisp white shirt with a neatly knotted black cravat. He bowed to Natalie and murmured something that elicited a breathless laugh. There was no denying itwith his unvarnished masculinity and bold dark eyes, Rafe Bowman was, to put it in a popular slang term, a stunner.

Hannah wondered what he thought of her cousin. Bowman’s face was unreadable, but she was certain that he could find no fault with Natalie.

As everyone in the room made small talk, Hannah inched toward the door. If at all possible, she was going to slip from the room unnoticed. The open threshold beckoned invitingly, promising freedom. Oh, it would be lovely to escape to her room, and change into clean clothes and brush out her hair in privacy. But just as she reached the doorway, she heard Rafe Bowman’s deep voice.

“Miss Appleton. Surely you won’t deprive us of your charming company.”

Hannah stopped abruptly and turned to find the collective gaze on her, just at the moment she least wanted attention. She longed to glare at Bowman. No, she longed to kill him. Instead, she adopted a neutral expression and murmured, “Good afternoon, Mr. Bowman.”

Lillian called to her immediately. “Miss Appleton, do come forward. I want to introduce you to my husband.”

Repressing a heavy sigh, Hannah pushed back the locks that dangled over her face and came forward.

“Westcliff,” Lillian said to her husband. “This is Lady Natalie’s companion, Miss Hannah Appleton.”

Hannah bowed and glanced apprehensively at the earl. His features were dark and austere, perhaps a bit forbidding. But as his gaze rested on her face, she saw that his eyes were kind. He spoke in a gravel-in-velvet voice that fell pleasantly on her ears. “Welcome, Miss Appleton.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she said. “And many thanks for allowing me to spend the holiday here.”

“The countess enjoyed your company at tea last week,” Westcliff replied, smiling briefly at Lillian. “Anyone who pleases her also pleases me.” The smile transformed him, warming his face.

Lillian spoke to her husband with breezy casualness, as if he were a mere mortal man instead of England’s most distinguished peer. “Westcliff, I think you will want to talk to Miss Appleton about her work with Mr. Samuel Clark.” She glanced at Hannah as she added, “The earl has read some of his writings, and quite enjoyed them.”

“Oh, I do not work with Mr. Clark,” Hannah said hastily, “but rather for him, in a secretarial capacity.” She gave the earl a cautious smile. “I am a bit surprised that you would have read anything by Mr. Clark, my lord.”

“I am acquainted with many progressive theorists of London,” Westcliff said. “What is Mr. Clark working on now?”

“Currently he is writing a speculative book on what natural laws might govern the development of the human mind.”

“I would like to hear more about that during supper.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Lillian proceeded to introduce Hannah to her parents, who responded with pleasant nods. It was clear, however, that they had already dismissed Hannah as a person of no consequence.

“Rafe,” the countess suggested to her brother, “perhaps you might take Lady Blandford and Lady Natalie on a walk round the house before supper.”

“Oh, yes,” Natalie said at once. “May we, Mama?”

“That sounds lovely,” Lady Blandford said.

Bowman smiled at them both. “It would be my pleasure.” He turned to Hannah. “Will you come also, Miss Appleton?”

“No,” she said quickly, and then realized her refusal had been a shade too forceful. She softened her tone. “I will tour the manor later, thank you.”

His gaze swept over her and returned to her face. “My services may not be available then.”

She stiffened at the feather-soft jeer in his voice, but she couldn’t seem to break their shared gaze. In the warm parlor light, his eyes held glints of gold and cinnamon-brown. “Then somehow I will have to make do without you, Mr. Bowman,” she replied tartly, and he grinned.

“YOU DIDN’T TELL ME THAT MR. BOWMAN WAS SO HANDSOME,” Natalie said after supper. The hour was late, and the long journey from London, followed by a lengthy repast, had left both girls exhausted. They had retired to their room while the company downstairs lingered over tea and port.

Although the menu had been exquisite, featuring dishes such as roasted capon stuffed with truffles, and herb-crusted standing ribs of beef, supper had been an uncomfortable affair for Hannah. She was well aware of her own disheveled appearance, having found barely enough time to wash and change into a fresh gown before she’d had to dash to the dining hall. To her dismay, Lord Westcliff had persisted in asking her questions about Samuel Clark’s work, which had drawn more unwanted attention to her. And all the while Rafe Bowman had kept glancing at her with a kind of audacious, unsettling interest that she could only interpret as mockery.

Forcing her thoughts back to the present, Hannah watched as Natalie sat before the vanity and pulled the combs and pins from her hair. “I suppose Mr. Bowman could be considered attractive,” Hannah said reluctantly. “If one likes that sort of man.”

“You mean the tall, dark-haired, dazzling sort?”