Tied With a Bow

function.
    If she went with him, Howard would be furious.
    But if she refused his escort, she would be leaving the two men behind to fight.
    Slipping a hand from the shelter of his coat, she gripped Lucien’s arm.
    He did not speak as they climbed the hill. She was aware of Howard staring after them, his face an ugly red, as she squelched and slipped up the icy slope. She shuddered with cold and reaction, hard, deep tremors that shook her chest and radiated outward through all her limbs.
    “Thank you,” she said as they reached the shallow stone steps of the walk. “I don’t know what I would have done if you had not come along when you did.”
    “You must tell me if he bothers you again.”
    He thought she was talking about Howard , Aimée realized with a jolt. “I refer to Harriet. It was very brave, the way you ran out on the ice. You saved her.”
    He looked at her sideways, his face inscrutable. “She is not the only one I have saved.”
    Another spark, another contact, another flutter in her heart or memory. She swallowed. “Naturally, I am grateful. But I can look out for myself.”
    “You were quite fierce. Formidable, in fact.” He lifted her hand where it rested on his arm and unexpectedly kissed her knuckles. Shock held her still. The pressure of his lips, the warmth of his breath, seared through the wet fabric of her glove. “But you are a woman.”
    Aimée reclaimed her hand, conscious of the staring windows of the house. Of Howard, somewhere behind them. “And because I am a woman, I must be weak.”
    “Not weak. But smaller than a man. In any physical encounter, you are outmatched.”
    She licked her upper lip, made suddenly aware of his size, his strength, his overwhelming masculinity. In any physical encounter . . .
    She slid her gaze from his. “I hope your interference will not spoil your chances with Julia.”
    Lucien frowned. “Your cousin cannot excuse her brother’s behavior.”
    “Oh no,” Aimée assured him. “But if Howard were to complain to Lady Basing . . .”
    “She would defend his abuse?”
    “It is not as bad as you are thinking,” Aimée said, leading him around the side of the house, out of Howard’s sight. “It is only that she does not wish to think poorly of her son.”
    “You give them too much credit.”
    “They are my family.”
    “They do not deserve your loyalty.”
    His concern was seductive, more seductive even than his austerely handsome face or the warmth of his hand or the strength of his arm. She had never had a champion before. Or a confidant. There was no one at Moulton who understood, no one she could talk to.
    “It was better when I first came here,” she said. “Howard was away at school then. Even now, he spends most of his time in Town.”
    “He is Sir Walter’s heir. He must visit.”
    “Not as often as his parents would wish. There is little here to hold his attention.”
    Another assessing, sideways look. “Except you.”
    She shrugged, uncomfortable with his admiration. If that’s what it was. “I can keep out of the way. Until he leaves again.”
    “Or you could leave,” Lucien suggested.
    Ah. He did not truly understand. He was a man, after all.
    “And go where?” she asked. “I have no money, no family, no other acquaintance in England.”
    “You have skills. You speak French. You play the piano—even if you will not play in company,” he added with a glint of humor. “You could seek employment.”
    “As a governess.”
    He nodded.
    “I have no references.”
    “You have experience.”
    “Not enough to impress an employer.” She winced. “Particularly after today. You heard the Netherbys.”
    “The Netherbys are fools.”
    His support warmed her. But she said, “Susan was upset. Any mother would be.”
    “Any other mother would not blame you for her own neglect. I know a woman in London who could find you a position if you wish it.”
    Aimée snorted inelegantly. She could not let his interest blind her to reality. “I have heard of such women. They meet the stagecoaches, looking for poor dumb girls from the country. Me, I am not so stupid.”
    “Not stupid at all. But Miss Grinton is completely legitimate, I assure you.”
    “Maybe.” He meant well, she told herself. “Even if your Miss Grinton could help me—and I do not believe it is as easy as you think to find a position without references—I would only be exchanging one situation for another. I might find it harder to escape the