Son of a rogue and a gypsy, Hero Fiennes Tiffin was a notorious rake until a shattering betrayal left him alone and embittered in the Welsh countryside. Desperation drives quiet schoolteacher Josephine Langford to ask Hero Fiennes Tiffin to help sav...
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Josephine peered out the window of the traveling coach, wide-eyed at the sight of London in the dusk. "I never imagined that there were so many people in the world," she breathed.
Hero chuckled. He was seated beside her, lounging casually against the upholstery with his arms folded across his chest. "Country mouse comes to city."
She scowled with mock irritation. "The first time you came to London, I'm sure you were utterly nonchalant."
"Not in the least," he said cheerfully. "I was seventeen and so enthralled that I nearly fell out the carriage window. One may love London or hate it, but one is never indifferent. I intend to see that you experience some of the city's variety while you're here."
The carriage swerved and the driver of a passing cart hurled a stream of filthy abuse at their own coachman. Josephine listened, her brow furrowed. "Is that carter speaking a foreign language? I can't understand what he's saying."
"He's speaking a particularly dreadful form of cockney, the South London dialect, as well as using words that a wellbred young lady should not recognize," Hero said repressively.
She gave him a mischievous glance. "Can you explain his remarks to me?"
His brows arched. "Though I have every desire to corrupt you, foul language is not the way in which I wish to do it."
She smiled and looked out the window again. The long journey from Wales to London had been fast-paced and tiring, but she had enjoyed it. Since the painful scene at the castle had forced her to come to terms with her situation, she had become more relaxed with Hero, and their relationship was now marked by considerable teasing.
Better yet, she had learned that it was possible to enjoy his caresses without being overwhelmed. The single daily kiss had developed into a delightful session that lasted until Hero's hands started wandering dangerously. When that happened, Josephine would call a halt. He always obeyed promptly. She sensed that, like her, he was holding back a little, enjoying the kisses without allowing himself to be swept away by desire.
The situation couldn't last; sooner or later Hero would unleash the full power of his sensuality in a really determined effort to seduce her. When that day came, she thought she would have the strength to resist, for every day she felt stronger, more his equal, at least within the narrow confines of their odd relationship. Meanwhile, she would enjoy London.
The streets gradually became cleaner and quieter, and eventually the carriage lurched to a halt. The coachman opened the door and lowered the steps and Hero helped Josephine down. It was almost dark, and all she could see of Westgate House was the broad classical facade. "Is this place also in dire need of a housekeeper?" she asked.
"Several days ago I informed my London agent that I would be coming, so the house should be clean and have a temporary staff." He offered his arm. "Of course, as mistress of the household, you may make changes as you see fit."
