Free A Countess by Christmas by Annie Burrows

of decision never to marry. ‘I repeat: I am quite capable of looking after myself. And even if I were in need of help, why should I apply to you ? I have no claim on you. We are not related.’
    ‘That would not stop most women…’
    ‘It would stop any woman with an ounce of pride!’ she retorted.
    ‘Of which I observe you have more than your fair share.’
    Without her conscious decision, her hands curled into fists at her sides. At this very moment she wished she were a man, with the freedom to come to fisticuffs with him! Her only recourse as a female was to tell him exactly what she thought of his horrid opinions of women. But she could not do even that! She had come here to mend fences, to smooth the way for her aunt—not to start a completely new family feud.
    He could see her battling with her temper. For one moment he had the impression she was about to fling herself at him bodily. He braced himself for the onslaught, imagining himself capturing her wrists as she tried to strike at him. Subduing her by twisting her arms behind her back. Showing her exactly who wasin charge here by stopping that saucy mouth with a hard kiss.
    He caught his breath. Took a step towards her.
    ‘Miss Forrest…’ His voice, he realised to his surprise, was hoarse.
    She put up one hand, as though to ward him off.
    ‘Enough!’
    ‘But—’
    ‘No,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘I think I had better leave before one of us says something they will regret.’
    It was not what he had been about to say she was saving herself from, he reflected grimly as she strode away to the door. But what he had been so sorely tempted to do .
    ‘I think for once—’ He flinched as she slammed the door shut behind her, sank into his chair, and finished softly, ‘I completely agree with you.’
    He felt stunned. Yet strangely energised. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be struck by lightning. There had definitely been something elemental about that encounter.
    Miss Forrest, he acknowledged with a hollow laugh, could truly be described as a force of nature.
     
    After breakfast Mrs Dent herself came to the drum room, gushing apologies, and a veritable army of staff moved all their possessions to a new suite of rooms, down on the main floor where the other guests were staying.
    ‘Since we have discovered you are a guest, and not aservant, your things will be moved down here, too,’ the housekeeper said to Helen.
    Adjoining her aunt’s bedchamber was a small but beautifully decorated room, which would afford Helen privacy whilst keeping her close enough to her aunt for peace of mind.
    It took most of the rest of the day to organise things to their satisfaction, but as dusk began to fall her aunt remarked, ‘I think we had better go down for dinner a little earlier this evening. I do not want anyone to think I am hiding away, as though you or I have anything to be ashamed of.’
    An image of the Earl circulating amongst his guests flashed into her mind. The prospect of perhaps speaking to him filled her with mixed feelings. So far their exchanges had been pithy, and strangely stimulating. But tonight, with other people present, they would both be obliged to limit themselves to polite commonplaces. Which would be most unsatisfactory.
    Though in all honesty it was unlikely he would deign to speak to her in public. Why should he? He was the head of a large and wealthy family, with immense responsibilities. Whereas she, in another week or so, was to become a governess. What was more, their encounter this morning had hardly ended on…friendly terms.
    ‘Do not look so downcast,’ her aunt remarked. ‘You will be more than a match for any of them. You are far more clever, as well as having more spirit than any other woman present.’
    Helen was loth to admit that it was the prospect of having to interact with one person in particular that had resulted in her looking a little wistful, so she answered,‘Thank you for saying that.