"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."