Page 2 of Ravished

Her face made Gideon think of a clever little cat and he had a sudden impulse to pet the lady, but he restrained himself. He knew from painful experience that parson's daughters were frequently more dangerous than they appeared. He had been badly bitten once, and once was enough.

Gideon guessed his hostess was in her early twenties. He wondered if it was the lack of an inheritance that had kept her unwed or if her evident enthusiasm for old bones had put off potential suitors. Few gentlemen would be inspired to propose to a female who displayed more interest in fossils than in flirting.

Gideon's gaze swept briefly over the rest of the woman, noting the high-waisted muslin gown that had probably once been bronze in tone but had long since faded to a vague shade of brown. A pleated chemisette filled in the modest neckline.

Between the chemisette and the enveloping apron, a great deal was left to the imagination. Nevertheless, Gideon got the impression of soft, rounded breasts and a slender waist. He watched closely as the lady hurried back around behind the desk to resume her seat. As she swung around the edge of the desk, the light muslin shaped itself briefly to what appeared to be a lushly curved bottom.

"You have taken me by surprise, as you can see, my lord." The woman shoved a few more sketches out of sight beneath a copy ofTransactions of the Fossils and Antiquities Society. She frowned reproachfully at Gideon. "I apologize for my appearance, but as I was not expecting you this morning, I can hardly be blamed for failing to be dressed for the occasion."

"Do not concern yourself about your appearance, Miss Pomeroy. I assure you, it does not offend." Gideon allowed a brow to rise in polite inquiry. "You are Miss Harriet Pomeroy, are you not?"

She had the grace to blush. "Yes, of course, my lord. Who else would I be? You must think me an ill-mannered baggage. Indeed, my aunt is always telling me I have no social polish. The thing is, a woman in my position can never be too careful."

"I understand," Gideon said coolly. "A lady's reputation is a fragile commodity and a rector's daughter is especially at risk, is she not?"

Harriet gave him a blank look. "I beg your pardon?"

"Perhaps you should summon a relative or your housekeeper to join us here. For the sake of your reputation."

Harriet blinked, blue-green eyes widening in astonishment. "Reputation? Heavens, I was not talking about my reputation, my lord. I have never been in danger of being ravished in my entire life and, as I am already nearly five and twenty, the prospect is not liable to become a major concern in the future."

"Your mother did not trouble to warn you about strangers?"

"Heavens, no." Harriet smiled reminiscently. "My father called my mother a living saint. She was gracious and hospitable to everyone. She was killed in a carriage accident two years before we moved to Upper Biddleton. It was the middle of winter and she was taking warm clothing to the poor. We all missed her dreadfully for a long time. Especially Papa."

"I see."

"If you are concerned about the proprieties, my lord, I fear I cannot help you," Harriet continued in a chatty tone. "My aunt and sister have walked into the village to shop. My housekeeper is around here somewhere, but I doubt she would be of much help in the event you did threaten to ravish me. She tends to succumb to the vapors at the least hint of a crisis."

"You are correct in that," Gideon said. "She was certainly not of much assistance to the last young lady who lived in this house."

Harriet looked briefly interested in that topic. "Oh, you have met Mrs. Stone?"

"We were acquainted some years back when I lived in the neighborhood."

"Of course. She was the housekeeper for the previous rector, was she not? We inherited her along with the rectory. Aunt Effie says she is extremely depressing to have around and I quite agree, but Papa always said we must be charitable. He said we could not turn her out because she was unlikely to find work elsewhere in the district."

"A very praiseworthy attitude. Nevertheless, it does leave you saddled with a rather grim housekeeper, unless Mrs. Stone has changed considerably over the years."

"Apparently not. She is very much the Voice of Doom. But Papa was a kind man, even if he lacked a sense of practicality. I do try to continue on as he would have wished, although at times it is exceedingly difficult." Harriet leaned forward and folded her hands. "But that is neither here nor there at the moment. Now, then, if I may return to the subject at hand."

"By all means." Gideon realized he was actually beginning to enjoy himself.

"When I said I could not be too careful, I was referring to the necessity of protecting something infinitely more important than my reputation, sir."

"You amaze me. What could be more important than that, Miss Pomeroy?"

"My work, of course." She sat back in her chair and fixed him with a knowing look. "You are a man of the world, sir. You have no doubt traveled a great deal. Seen life as it is, so to speak. You must be well aware that there are unscrupulous rogues lurking everywhere."

"Are there, indeed?"

"Absolutely. I can tell you, sir, that there are those who would steal my fossils and claim them as their own discoveries without so much as a flicker of remorse. I know it must be difficult for a well-bred, honorable gentleman such as yourself to acknowledge that there are men who would stoop so low, but there it is. Facts are facts. I must be constantly on the alert."

"I see."

"Now, then. I do not like to appear unduly suspicious, my lord, but have you some proof of your identity?"

Gideon was dumbfounded. The scar on his face was all the identification most people needed, especially here in Upper Biddleton. "I have told you I am St. Justin."

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