The next morning, a number of the ladies and gentlemen were seen riding about the country side. The weather was fine and the day bright.

Fiona was lurking outside, unsure of what to do. The duchess had ordered her out and commanded that she enjoy herself. Whatever did that mean?

From the corner of her eye, she spotted the Duke and Lady Sophia, riding side by side. They did indeed make a fine sight, the pair of them. The Lady was a beautiful woman and when Fiona had seen her yesterday for the first time, she'd felt like a tiny, inconsequential bug—not worthy of breathing the same air as her. In daylight, she was even more dazzling. Her green riding attire was immaculate, showcasing her perfect figure and her glorious hair cascaded down her back in soft waves. Not to mention, the two of them together looked like they'd jumped straight out of a painting. And in their presence, Fiona couldn't help but feel small.

She cringed at the direction of her thoughts.

You are just as worthy as them, she told herself sternly. And if someone could make her feel small, it was herself.

"Miss Butterworth!" someone bellowed. Fiona groaned before turning to see who it was.

Lord Winston.

"Good morning, my lord. How can I help you this morn?" she fixed a smile upon her lips.

"By slowing down?" he replied as he jogged to her side. "I've been calling out your name."

Fiona chuckled. "I'm afraid I didn't hear you."

"Is there something you need?" Fiona questioned once he'd reached her side.

"Good God, woman! Has no one ever approached you to simply for the pleasure of your company?"

"No," she said with a small shrug.

"Well, there's always a first time," he huffed, looking affronted on her behalf.

Fiona couldn't help but smile. Her smile more genuine this time. Yes, Lord Winston unnerved her a little—almost every guest here did. But he wasn't so bad. Maybe she could do without all the attention he was showering on her, but she didn't mind his company. He seemed amiable enough—not bothered by her lack of a rank.

"Shall we ride?" he asked politely.

"I can't ride. I never had the chance to learn."

"Very well. Shall I walk with you then?"

"Yes," Fiona replied. Lord Winston smiled and took the hand lying limply by her side and put it on his arm.

He was quite talkative but also knowledgable. He asked for her opinion on various matters and Fiona found herself enjoying their light but witty banter.

More than once, Fiona had noticed the Duke staring at them from a distance. He had looked angry and his face looked like it was set in stone. Fiona decided that it was best if she ignored him.

"I like you, Miss Butterworth," Lord Winston smiled down at her.

"A lot of people do, Lord Winston," Fiona grinned cheekily at him.

He threw his head back and laughed, the sound loud and jolly. It also drew the attention of many people, including that of the Duke and Fiona was just a little embarrassed at all the attention directed towards her.

"Call me Robert, please. And give me the permission to call you by your given name," he said, his eyes intent, all traces of amusement gone.

Fiona wondered if it was proper. But he was an Earl and surely she wasn't so prudish as to deny him this. And she knew that he had only friendship in mind.

"Alright, Robert," she smiled and the Earl smiled back at her.

**********************

Nate was seething as he tried to find his mother's companion. He'd scoured the entire house and there was no trace of her. Now he was on the balcony, hoping his mother would know where she was.

Trouble.

That's what she was. She wasn't just troublesome. She was trouble personified.

"Mother, where's Miss Butterworth?" Nate barked.

"She's gone to fetch me my shawl," his mother replied, her brows raised at his tone.

"Send her to my study the minute she gets here."

With that he turned and left, not even waiting for his mother's response. Then he went down to his study and waited.

After half an hour, a knock sounded.

"Enter," he said, trying his best to control his temper. Fiona entered, her eyes wide with confusion.

"What took you so long?"

"Forgive me if I'm unable to be present at your ever beck and call. I have to attend to your mother, you see," she snapped, shutting the door behind her.

"Now what did you wish to speak of?" she asked, looking impatient. As if she had somewhere to be. Or someone to see...

Nate felt his anger return with a vengeance.

"You shall cease talking to Winston," he barked.

If he'd expected her to heed his words and assure him that she would do so immediately, he'd been sorely mistaken.

"Why?" she shot back.

"Because I am your employer and I demand it from you!" he bellowed.

She flinched at his volume but stood ramrod straight, her hands folded in front of her. Nate tried to ignore how they pushed her bosom upwards—the swells rising above her bodice but in vain.

"And I demand a reasonable explanation."

He was riveted by her. She was angry, her eyes shooting daggers at him and her stance resembling that of a woman poised to attack.

And all he could think of was how she'd react if he pressed his lips to hers. Would she kiss him back, refusing to back down as she had that night in his chamber or would she scratch his eye balls out?

Something told him the latter was the most probable outcome.

And so he remained where he was, finding that he wasn't angry anymore—just incredibly annoyed. And a little uncomfortable. What was he to say to her?

"His intentions aren't right," he said finally.

Fiona merely raised her brow, signalling for him to continue.

"He aims at taking advantage of you, Fiona. Winston is a charming man and I'm sure you find yourself drawn towards him. But this will lead to nothing. He only wishes to dally with you."

"Then he's not very different from you, I see," she replied coldly.

Nate stiffened.

"You worry needlessly, your grace. I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself. Also, I find I am immune to the Earl's charms, abundant as they are," she added before he could say anything.

"As relieved as I am to hear it, I would like to warn you again. The men are already wagering on him, he's confident that you will accept his proposal of marriage before this house party ends."

Fiona began to laugh. At first Nate was annoyed, but then he found himself being drawn to her laughter—to her.

"What is so amusing?" he asked huskily, coming to a halt only one feet away from her.

"That the Earl would consider marriage to me," she laughed again. "Surely you jest."

"I don't."

She stopped laughing immediately at his serious tone, although her lips were still stretched into a wide smile.

Before he could stop himself, he bent forward and caught her lips with his. The air around the fairly crackled and Nate had to fight for breath, the feel of her too intoxicating.

But it was over in a few moments because Fiona pushed him back, her eyes accusing.

"I think you've been advising me to stay away from the wrong man," she whispered.

And then she turned, threw open the door and fled.

Leaving Nate there feeling strangely bereft and like a thousand kinds of ass.