Read Online Dangerous to Love by Rexanne Becnel - Free Book Online Page B

first laid herself down. For now she would simply observe her employer and her young charge. Perhaps she’d be better able to deduce the countess’s true purpose.
    She would also keep a watch on Ivan, Lord Westcott. In the space of less than twelve hours she’d already had two dismaying confrontations with the man. She’d slapped him last night for his impertinence, and should have slapped him again this morning for so boldly rapping at her door.
    But it was not those two incidents which most unsettled her. The sad fact was, the man had too much appeal by half. What’s more, he’d practiced these many years just how to frustrate and stymie his grandmother. At the least Lucy owed herself time to observe him and figure out how best to deal with him.
    But as she poured water from an exquisite porcelain pitcher into its matching bowl to begin her morning ablutions, she knew dealing with him would not be easy. He was smart and clearly bent on making his grandmother’s life miserable. And because of her association with the old woman, he seemed set on making her own life miserable too.
    Just think of him as an overgrown version of Derek or Stanley, she told herself. Or Derek and Stanley, all rolled into one. Don’t try to thwart him; merely steer him in a slightly different direction. Funnel all that ferocious energy someplace else.
    But what was she to do about her completely inappropriate attraction to him?
    Ignore it, was the only answer she could find. Ignore it. Bury it. Think about Sir James Mawbey instead.
    Yes, Sir James. She seized on the thought of her idol with relief. Ivan Thornton might exude the powerful animal magnetism that any normal, healthy woman would respond to. But he was no Sir James Mawbey, possessed of such deep insights and intellectual gifts. She would ignore Ivan Thornton and think only of Sir James. His first lecture was less than a week away. Surely between now and then she could put a damper on her silly, girlish emotions.
    Or so she prayed.
     
    She did not see the earl again that day . . Nor the next. Nor the next.
    Lady Valerie arrived on Wednesday and they all spent that evening at home, getting the easily startled Valerie settled in. She’d traveled with her maid, a young girl so awed by London and Westcott House and the presence of a real countess that Lucy wanted to groan. Two complete babies, they were. She would have no help whatsoever from the maid Tilly.
    A day and a half later the maid’s attitude was not much improved. “You will not be required to attend tomorrow’s dance, Tilly,” Lucy told her. “Lady Westcott and I shall accompany Lady Valerie.”
    Relief flooded the girl’s mousy face. Valerie’s exquisite features, however, clouded over. “But … but I need her. Tilly has been with me since first I was given a maid of my own. Oh, please. Do not make me go there without her—”
    “Don’t behave so ridiculously,” Lady Westcott interrupted, giving Valerie a sharp look. “A maid in the ballroom? Would you have her hold your hand and prop you up?”
    Lucy had determined from the first that Valerie was petrified of the dowager countess. As it turned out, it was a blessing, for the girl clung instinctively to Lucy for comfort. Now Lucy put a reassuring arm around the petite young woman.
    “You will have me, Valerie. I will be at your side every minute save when you are dancing.” She could feel the girl tremble, and she knew what her next words would be.
    “Must I dance?”
    Lady Westcott snorted, but Lucy cut her off before she could make another ascerbic remark and frighten Valerie further. “This is an ordinary dance, not actually a ball. There will be dancing, and if you’re asked to dance you must accept. It would be considered a great insult to the hapless fellow if you turned him down. You will do fine,” she added, giving her a little squeeze.
    “Come, let’s practice,” she continued. “I’ll dance the man’s part. Just call me Lord Fumblefoot.