When her parents die, Sarah Davenport is forced by poverty to take up a position as a governess. The children in her charge are soon having fun under Sarah's unconventional rule. But when their guardian, Lord Randall, returns, Sarah finds herself drawn into a battle of wills with this proud and arrogant man. Can Sarah convince him that her unusual methods are working? And can she fight the irresistible attraction she feels towards him? For Lord Randall has made it clear he desires a quiet, biddable girl for a wife . . .

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"Believable dialogue and lively characters. There are nice touches of humour, too." - Historical Novel Society

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Extract

CHAPTER ONE

'Out with it, Constance!'

Lady Constance Templeton, startled out of her reverie, almost dropped her porcelain teacup in surprise. 'Really, Isabelle!' she retorted, once she had recovered herself. 'I don't know what you mean.'

The two ladies, both vigorous despite being over seventy years of age, were taking tea in the splendid drawing-room of Templeton House. It was a hot afternoon in the summer of 1814, and the tall windows were open to let in the cooling breeze.

'How long have we known each other?' demanded Isabelle, fixing her friend with a shrewd eye.

'I don't see what that has to do with anything,' returned Lady Constance evasively.

'Oh, don't you?' snorted Isabelle. She put down her cup with a determined clatter. 'We have been friends for the best part of fifty years, Constance, and I know instinctively when something is wrong. And something is wrong now. No, don't bother denying it,' she said, with a firm shake of her head. 'I won't be put off. And I won't rest until I know what it is. Although, from the way your eyes keep drifting to the portrait of your nephew, I can guess. It is my belief it has something to do with James.'

As she spoke, her own eyes turned to the large portrait that hung above the magnificent Adam fireplace. It was of a strikingly handsome young man, with black hair and coal black eyes. High cheekbones and a determined chin defined his face, in the same way that long, firm limbs and a broad chest defined his body. Strong hands held the reins of the stallion he was riding, and although the animal was rearing he controlled it with an air of arrogant ease.

'Arrogance,' said Isabelle, as she continued to look at the portrait, not realising she had spoken out loud.

Lady Constance gave a heavy sigh. 'Arrogance,' she agreed. 'Pride, pigheadedness and downright stubbornness! Why he doesn't see what he is doing to the children is beyond me.'

'Aha!' said Isabelle triumphantly. 'I knew there was something.' She picked up her chicken-skin fan and wafted it in front of her bony chest. 'What has James been doing to make you so distracted this time?'

Lady Constance shook her grey head with vexation. 'It is too bad, Isabelle, it really is. Especially after the last time. He has scared yet another governess away.'