"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 of Transactions 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."

"I fear I must insist on proof, sir. As I said, I cannot be too careful."

Gideon considered the situation and did not know whether to laugh or curse. Unable to come to a decision, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a letter. "You sent this to me, I believe, Miss Pomeroy. Surely the fact that it is in my possession is sufficient proof I am St. Justin."

"Oh, yes. My letter." She smiled in relief. "So you did get it. And you came at once. I knew you would. Everyone says you do not care about anything that goes on here in Upper Biddleton, but I knew that could not be true. After all, you were born here, were you not?"

"I have that distinction, yes," Gideon said dryly.

"Then you must have firm ties to the soil. Your roots are forever grounded in this place, even though you have chosen to settle on one of your other estates. You are bound to feel a sense of duty and responsibility to this region."

"Miss Pomeroy—"

"You could not turn your back on the village that nurtured you. You are a viscount, heir to an earldom. You know the meaning of obligation and—"

"Miss Pomeroy." Gideon held up a hand to silence her. He was somewhat surprised when the tactic worked. "Let us be clear about something here, Miss Pomeroy. I am not overly concerned with the fate of Upper Biddleton, only that my family's lands here continue to be productive. Should they cease to provide a suitable income, I assure you I will sell them out of hand."

"But most of the people in this area are dependent on you in one way or another for their livelihood. As the largest landholder in the neighborhood you provide the economic stability for the entire region. Surely you realize that."

"My interests in Upper Biddleton are financial, not emotional."

Harriet looked briefly disconcerted at that pronouncement, but she rallied instantly. "You are teasing me, my lord. Of course you care about the fate of this village. You have come in response to my letter, have you not? That is proof that you care."

"I am here out of sheer, undiluted curiosity, Miss Pomeroy. Your letter was nothing less than a royal command. I am not accustomed to being summoned by young chits whom I have never even met, much less being lectured by them on the subject of my duties and responsibilities. I must admit I was extremely interested to meet the female who felt she had the right to do so."

"Oh." Harriet's expression grew cautious. For the first time since he had arrived, she appeared to comprehend the fact that Gideon was not altogether pleased by the meeting she had arranged. She tried a tentative smile. "Forgive me, my lord. Was my letter perhaps a shade peremptory in tone?"

"That is putting it mildly, Miss Pomeroy."

She nibbled briefly on her lower lip, studying him intently. "I will admit that I have a slight tendency to be a bit, shall we say, blunt?"

"Forceful might be a better word. Or perhaps demanding. Even tyrannical."

Harriet sighed. "It comes of having to make decisions all the time, I suppose. Papa was a wonderful man in many respects, but he preferred to concern himself with the religious concerns of his flock rather than the practical matters of daily life. Aunt Effie is a dear, but she was not raised to take charge of things, if you know what I mean. And my sister is just leaving the schoolroom. She has not had much experience of the world."