Rules of Surrender (Governess Brides, Book 1)
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She fancies herself above reproach, and the Mordens are rich and high-placed enough that she may think whatever she likes. He reflected. A viperous woman who flirted with me in front of her man. Adorna tilted her head as she considered the intricacies of English society and how to explain them to her son. If it's not proper, it's improper. Charlotte thought any man who went barefoot, wore his hair like a woman and couldn't manage to button his shirt all the way to the top should not be passing judgment on others, but her ingrained manners would not allow her to say so.
What matters is the hospitable treatment of guests. In the desert, if a guest is not treated hospitably, the sand and the sun bleaches his bones. Then Wynter's attention snapped back to the present. He moved away from the top step of the portico to allow Charlotte to ascend. She stepped foot on the veranda, and as smoothly as some great-maned predator, Wynter closed in behind her and proceeded to circle, examining her with the open curiosity he might show a zoo animal. She did not lower herself to do the same, but neither did she turn her eyes away in a pretense of cowardice.
Nothing intimidated Charlotte; the sooner he learned that fact, the less conflict they would endure. He had grown tall in his sojourn away from England; he topped her by more than a foot. His bulk filled her gaze, but she kept her vision properly affixed to his countenance. He might have been a geometry proof, for angles of every kind made up his face.
His forehead was a handsome rectangle, his cheeks jutted out from the point of his chin, his nose was a sharp, beaked triangle. A long scar tugged at the edge of one eye and bisected his right cheek.
Return of the Rogue
His brown eyes, she noted, no longer contrasted with his fair complexion. The sun in El Bahar had tanned him to the color of toast, and lightened his hair in streaks. He still sported those unusually dark eyelashes and brows, but he no longer allowed them to droop in Byronesque brooding. He looked at the world with such direct and avid interest some lesser beings might find themselves discomfited.
Rules of Surrender (Governess Brides Series #1)
Nobles did behave so to their servants, of course, but governesses lurked in that ill-defined domain of neither servant nor aristocrat. Charlotte, especially, as a doyen of deportment, tended to be treated with respect. But Wynter was obviously oblivious to the niceties. Charlotte would be offended — was offended — except she wanted to hear the answer.
His children, Charlotte thought, were not the only barbarians. Her fingers tightened around the handle of her bag and she put a crisp edge to her voice. His insolence brought a rush of blood to Charlotte's cheeks. And for no reason, she assured herself. In every new employment, she had been initially disdained by someone. But to have this man, this brute, so openly doubt her … ah, that put her teeth on edge. Wynter, this is Lady Charlotte Dalrumple, the governess for … or rather, an expert in manners.
Determined to behave as if the personal comments, the cross-conversation, the insolent inspection were quite normal, Charlotte curtsied. Lord Wynter just gazed at her rather stupidly. Acting on reflex, she placed the bag on the floor beside her.
And I should say" — he took her hand and bent over it, then looked into her eyes — "I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Dalrumple. At that moment, she realized he made a game of her. He knew exactly what he should do, but with obnoxiously feigned ignorance he had been testing her.