Were it not for Mr. Bowman’s disturbing presence, Hannah would have been sorry for teatime to end. But it was with relief that she received the news that Lord Blandford’s carriage had arrived to convey her back home. She didn’t think she could abide much more of Bowman’s unsettling stare.

“Thank you for the lovely tea,” Hannah said to Lillian, standing and smoothing her skirts. “It has been a delight to make your acquaintance.”

Lillian grinned with the same flash of mischief that Bowman had displayed before. With their spicy brown eyes and gleaming sable hair, there was no doubting their family resemblance. Except that Lillian was far nicer. “You are very kind to tolerate us, Miss Appleton. I do hope we haven’t behaved too badly.”

“Not at all,” Hannah replied. “I look forward to seeing you in Hampshire soon.”

In a matter of days, Hannah would be leaving for Lillian and Lord Westcliff’s country estate with Natalie and the Blandfords for an extended visit over Christmas. It would last more than a fortnight, during which time Mr. Bowman and Natalie would have ample opportunity to discover whether they suited. Or not.

“Yes, it will be a grand, glorious Christmas,” Lillian exclaimed, her eyes glowing. “Music, feasting, dancing, and all kinds of fun. And Lord Westcliff has promised that we will have an absolutely towering Christmas tree.”

Hannah smiled, caught up in her enthusiasm. “I’ve never seen one before.”

“Haven’t you? Oh, it’s magical when all the candles are lit. Christmas trees are quite the fashion in New York, where I was brought up. It started as a German tradition, and it’s catching on rapidly in America, though it’s not common in England. Yet.”

“The royal family has had Christmas trees for some time,” Annabelle said. “Queen Charlotte always put one up at Windsor. And I’ve heard that Prince Albert has continued the tradition after the manner of his German heritage.”

“I look forward to viewing the Christmas tree,” Hannah said, “and spending the holiday with all of you.” She bowed to the women, and paused uncertainly as she glanced up at Bowman. He was very tall, his presence so forceful and vital that she felt a shock of awareness as he moved closer to her. As she glanced up at Bowman’s handsome, arrogant face, all she could think of was how much she disliked him. And yet dislike had never made her mouth go dry like this. Dislike had never sent her pulse into a swift, tripping beat, nor had it knotted in the pit of her stomach.

Hannah nodded to him in the approximation of a bow.

Bowman smiled, his teeth very white in his sun-browned face. “You shook my hand before,” he reminded her, and extended his palm.

Such audacity. She didn’t want to touch him again, and he knew it. Her chest felt very tight, compressing until she was forced to take an extra breath. But at the same time she felt a wry, irrepressible smile curve her lips. He was a scoundrel indeed. Natalie would discover that soon enough.

“So I did,” Hannah said, and reached out for his hand. A quiver went through her frame as she felt his fingers close around hers. It was a powerful hand, capable of crushing her delicate bones with ease, but his hold was gentle. And hot. Hannah sent him a bewildered glance and tugged free, while her heart pounded heavily. She wished he would stop staring at hershe could actually feel his gaze on her downbent head. “The carriage is waiting,” she said unsteadily.

“I’ll take you to the entrance hall,” she heard Lillian say, “and we’ll ring for your cloak and” She broke off as she heard the sound of a crying baby. “Oh, dear.”

A nurserymaid came into the parlor, holding a dark-haired infant bundled in a pink blanket. “Beg pardon, milady, but she won’t stop crying.”

“My daughter Merritt,” Lillian explained to Hannah. Reaching out for the infant, she cuddled and soothed her. “Poor darling, you’ve been fretful today. Miss Appleton, if you’ll wait a moment”

“I’ll see myself out,” Hannah said, smiling. “Stay here with your daughter, my lady.”

“I’ll go with you,” Bowman offered easily.

“Thank you, Rafe,” came Lillian’s grateful reply, before Hannah could object.

Feeling a pang of nerves in her stomach, Hannah left the parlor with Rafe Bowman. Before he reached for the bell pull, she murmured, “If you have no objection, I would like to speak with you privately for a moment.”

“Of course.” His gaze swept over her, his eyes containing the devilish glint of a man who was well accustomed to having private moments with women he barely knew. His fingers slid around her elbow as he drew her with him to the shadow beneath the stairs.

“Mr. Bowman,” Hannah whispered with desperate earnestness, “I have neither the right nor the desire to correct your manners, but…this matter of the handshake …”

His head bent over hers. “Yes?”

“Please, you must not extend your hand to an older person, or to a man of greater prestige, or most of all to a lady, unless any of these people offer their hands to you first. It’s simply not done here. And as vexing and annoying as you are, I still don’t wish you to be slighted.”

To her surprise, Bowman appeared to listen closely. When he replied, his tone was infused with quiet gravity. “That is kind of you, Miss Appleton.”

She looked away from him, her gaze chasing round the floor, the walls, the underside of the stairs. Her breath came in anxious little gusts. “I’m not being kind. I just said you were vexing and annoying. You’ve made no effort to be polite.”