Ignoring her rapidly beating heart and strangled breath, she lowered her hand from her mouth, turned to face him fully, squared her shoulders and tilted up her chin. She would not be cowered by him or anyone else ever again. Why should she care what Mr Dominic Lockhart thought of her? He meant nothing to her. Why should she care how much of her performance he had heard? Why should she care if he was angry with her? He was not her employer. He had no power over her. She was a free woman. She would not let this commanding man frighten her. Let him do his worst. No matter what he said to her she would give him back as good as she got and let him know that neither his wealth nor his position meant a thing to her.
Dominic looked down at the feisty young woman glaring up at him. Her eyes were narrowed, her chin lifted high and her hands placed firmly on her hips. The scullery maid had called this impertinent miss Nellie. With a sinking heart Dominic realised this must be Nellie Regan, the lady’s maid he was expected to charm so she’d agree to style his sister’s hair.
She was staring him straight in the eye, something servants never did. In fact, no woman of any class had ever looked at him with such defiance and few men had the tenacity to adopt such a confrontational stance as this little vixen. The firebrand was glaring at him as if she was getting ready to launch into a round of fisticuffs.
Despite his irritation at her lack of respect for her betters, he suppressed a smile. If that was her intention, she was certainly the prettiest pugilist he had ever seen. As she barely came up to his shoulder, he doubted she could do much damage to anyone. Certainly not in the boxing ring anyway. But with those sparkling green eyes, luxurious wavy red hair, and skin so smooth it looked as if it was made of silk, he suspected she did a lot of damage to men in other ways.
His own reaction was testament to that. No woman had ever affected him as powerfully as this lady’s maid had. Despite his outrage at her disrespectful behaviour, when she had turned to look at him, for a moment he had forgotten everything else. Forgotten why he was here, what he wanted to say, and forgotten how he had just been insulted. All he could see was those stunning green eyes, sparkling like cut emeralds, or crisp green grass on a dewy spring morning. All he could think of was those full, soft, decidedly kissable red lips. All he could imagine was running his tongue along the seam where red lips met soft white skin, of pushing his tongue between her lips, forcing them apart, entering her mouth.
Dominic coughed to clear away such inappropriate thoughts and forced himself to stand up straighter.
Where on earth had that thought come from? Wherever it had, it had better go back there, immediately. It was highly inappropriate and certainly not the sort of thing he usually thought about when he first met a woman, even one as beautiful as the one standing in front of him. And there was no denying that she was a beauty. There was also no denying she was quite the comic actress.
While her performance had been rude, disrespectful and insulting, it did have its funny side and, dare he admit it, an element of truth when it came to the formality that still existed between him and Lady Cecily. He could see why she had been able to make the servants laugh with such gusto.
But it was still inexcusable, as was her present behaviour. Her impertinence seemed to know no bounds. She had insulted him, mocked him for the sport of the other servants and, instead of looking suitably shamefaced, she was glaring back at him as if he had done something wrong. Well, he had done nothing wrong. All he had done was interrupt her somewhat coarse performance. He was well within his rights to reprimand her. It was he who should be angry with her. He should be the one standing with his hands on his hips, ready to severely reprimand her for disrespecting him in front of the servants of his future in-laws.
But from that defiant look on her face he suspected harsh words would serve no purpose. He doubted if the strictest reprimand would have any effect on this ill-mannered young lady. Plus, he had made a promise to his sister and was unlikely to secure this upstart’s services as a hair stylist if he gave vent to his fury.
Dominic dragged in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, remembering the real reason why he was standing in the servants’ hall. He was not here to reprimand an impertinent servant. He was here at the behest of his sister. This was going to require some diplomacy, a level of juggling between letting her know her behaviour was unacceptable, while at the same time securing her hairdressing services.
‘You’re Nellie, I presume,’ he asked, fighting to keep his voice as neutral as possible.
‘No, my name is Miss Regan and I’ll thank you to address me as such.’
Dominic’s jaw tightened and he exhaled loudly. ‘Miss Regan, then, I presume,’ he said through clenched teeth.
‘That’s right. I am. Who wants to know?’ He caught a hint of a lilting Irish accent in her stern reply and the tension in his jaw released. It was such a lovely, soft voice. One that matched her beauty, with a sing-song quality that was quite enchanting. She’d hidden her accent when she’d been making fun of him and adopted
