A Countess by Christmas by Annie Burrows Page A

rude to you, but I thought…’
    ‘That I was merely a servant, and so could be spoken to as though I were of no account. Yes.’ He pursed his lips. ‘It was a most edifying experience.’
    Now she knew he was an earl she would modify her views, no doubt, as well as her manners!
    ‘It was not like that!’ Helen objected. ‘If you do not wish to be taken for a servant you should tell people who you are! And not loiter around the backstairs the way you do!’
    She could have kicked herself. She had sworn she would not antagonise him, and what was she doing? Answering him in a manner that was exceptionally impertinent.
    And yet now his scowl had vanished. He leaned back in his chair, eyeing her with frank surprise.
    ‘Do you have no control over your temper, Miss Forrest?’
    It was intriguing. She knew who he was. He was certain she had some hidden agenda where he was concerned. And yet she could only play at being obsequious so long before something inside her rebelled.
    ‘Very little,’ she admitted guiltily. ‘I always mean to say what is proper. But usually I just end up telling the truth instead.’
    She clapped her hands over her mouth, appalled at having just given him such a clear demonstration of her lack of restraint.
    But, far from looking offended, he began to smile. Until now she had only seen a hint of amusement putting a glint into those eyes which were normally so stony, so cold. It was a surprise to see how very different that smile made him look.
    Oh, if he were just a footman, and he turned that smile on any of the maids, they would swoon at his feet!
    ‘Let me assure you, Miss Forrest, that when the host of a gathering such as this appears on the doorstep to welcome his guests he generally assumes that they know exactly who he is.’
    ‘Oh, well, y…yes,’ she conceded. ‘I suppose they would…’
    ‘And as for loitering , as you put it, on the backstairs, I do no such thing. I never use the main staircase because—’ He pulled himself up short, astounded by the fact that she had almost made him speak of a matter he never talked about with anyone. Not that most people needed to ask why he avoided setting foot on that staircase.
    ‘I was simply taking the quickest route down to this room when I chanced upon you and ran foul of your temper,’ he said irritably.
    ‘Oh!’ She sat up straight, feeling as though he had slapped her. All the melting feelings his smile had engendered vanished at once. ‘Well, I think I had a right to be angry! My aunt had been treated abominably! And then, to add insult to injury, you accused me of setting the servants’ hall in a bustle…’
    He held up his hand. ‘Unjust of me under the circumstances, I suppose.’ Unjust to tease her, too. Had he not realised last night that this kind of behaviour was not that of a gentleman?
    It was time to stop this—whatever it was that afflicted him whenever he came into Miss Forrest’s orbit—and remember why he had wanted to speak with her privately.
    ‘I had not all the facts at my disposal. I did not know that you were not a servant—’
    ‘You see?’ she could not refrain from pointing out triumphantly. ‘It is an easy enough mistake to make…’
    His lips twitched. Was it so surprising he could not remember who he was when she was around, when she clearly could not either? She was still talking to him asthough she had the right to take him to task. As though they were equals. ‘ Touché . Let us cry quits over that issue. Agreed?’
    ‘Oh, absolutely!’ She beamed at him. Really, thought Helen, he was being far less difficult to deal with than she had imagined he would be. He could be fair. She only hoped he would be as fair in his eventual treatment of her aunt.
    Lord, but that smile packed quite a punch. Miss Forrest was not merely pretty, as he had first thought. She was dazzling.
    And women who could dazzle a man, make him forget who he was, the very principles by which he lived his life, were