Harcourt smiled to himself. He’d know those wild black curls anywhere, even when tucked under a bonnet that was trying to escape in the breeze that whipped through the village today. Being on the coast of England was pleasant most of the time but it did mean being exposed to the wrath of the weather sometimes. He imagined Merry did not much appreciate it at present.

“That’s the one with the dower house, is it not?” asked Griff.

“It is indeed.”

“Too pretty to turn into a spinster already.”

Harcourt clenched his jaw. “Stay away from her, Griff, she’s far too good for you.”

His friend lifted a brow. “I shouldn’t worry. Your mother shall have me married and siring an heir within the month.”

Chuckling, Harcourt paused by the old fountain. “That would make both of us.”

“But you’re not interested in being attached to just any woman, are you, Easton?” Harcourt swung a look at his friend who laughed. “I am not blind. Your preference for the spinster girl is obvious.”

Harcourt watched Merry turn to speak to someone in the shop—the carpenter he assumed, given she had stepped out of his workshop—then made her way down the slope of the road in his direction. The wind lifted her bonnet and she was too late to grab it. He heard a soft curse come from her that made his grin expand. The errant headwear flew from her head, straight toward him. Harcourt made a grab for it and snatched it by its flailing ribbons.

She hastened over, and he handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly, crushing it on top of those crazed curls. She tied the ribbon beneath her chin. “I wish this wind would leave us be. It has been like this for days.”

He rather liked the wind—or at least the effect it had on Merry. It put color in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes, not to mention it sent strands of hair shimmering down her neck, touching it softly like a lover would. His fingers tingled at the very idea. Instead, he reached out and tightened the ribbon beneath her chin. Her pupils dilated. A tiny flourish of triumph lit inside him. He was a patient man and was willing to be endlessly patient when it came to Merry, but these tiny moments served to seal his determination. Whatever it was preventing Merry from seeing how amazing they could be together, he’d defeat it.

“Are you enjoying your stay here, my lord?” she asked Griff.

“I am indeed. It is quite refreshing to be away from London, and there is a lot more to entertain than I realized.” Griff’s gaze lit upon something behind Merry and he tipped his hat. “If you will excuse me, I see someone I must speak with.”

Merry’s gaze tracked Griff as he went over to speak to a group of ladies. Her expression soured. “He shall end up scandalizing one of them.”

“Griff is a handful, but my mother is doing a marvelous job of keeping him occupied. Seems she thinks a bride from Lulworth would be perfect for him.”

“I doubt a man like that has any desire to marry.”

“You would be surprised. We men have been known to change our minds when the right woman comes along.”

“I haven’t seen you for a few days,” she said, the color in her cheeks deepening.

“Did you miss me?”

“No!” Her eyes widened. “I mean...” She frowned and twirled a finger in the bonnet ribbon.

He chuckled. “So you did?”

“I was just wondering what you had been doing, that is all.”

“My mother has kept my occupied.”

“I’m surprised she has returned at the height of summer.”

“She seems to think I need her.”

“It must be nice to have her home, but I am certain she knows you can look after yourself.”

“One would think so, yes, but I think she has another purpose for coming home. It is not just Griff she is determined to see wed.”

“Oh.”

There. He’d seen it even as she’d tried to disguise it. That little flash of hurt.

“Do you not think I should wed, Merry? After all, I am getting on.”

“You are hardly ancient.” Her throat bobbed. “But I suppose it is your duty, after all.”

Though tempted to tease her further, Harcourt could not bring himself to. “What were you doing at the carpenters?”

“The rear door of the house is broken. I cannot fathom how. It seemed quite secure yesterday.”

He scowled and straightened. The footprints he’d seen the other day and how it looked as though one of the windows had been tampered with combined with a broken door had him on alert. Something strange was afoot.

“Are you going back to the house now?” he asked.

Merry nodded. “I’m trying to clear the kitchen now.”

“And you’ll be there alone? Your friends are not helping?”

“They have done quite enough already. I only intend to do some light work for now.”

“I shall come with you,” he insisted.

“Really, there is no need. If I need your assistance, I will ask, I promise.”

He lifted a brow. “Really?”

“I will,” she vowed.

He rather doubted it. The stubborn woman had let him help once but he was certain she’d keep on trying to do it alone until she broke another piece of furniture and did some harm to herself. He could not let that happen and an uneasy sensation had settled into his gut about her being at the house alone. It was probably one of the few moments in her life she was alone. At Whitely she was surrounded by servants and if she was not accompanied by her friends, she was usually with her lady’s maid.

“I’ll come and help anyway. I have little else to do.”

She narrowed her gaze at him. “I do not believe that. You must have estate business to see to.”

He did, but it could wait a few more hours. If he had to work into the evening, so be it. More time with Merry and ensuring she was protected made a late night completely worth it.

“You underestimate me, Merry. I am supremely efficient.”

She rolled her eyes. “And supremely arrogant.”

He grinned. “Naturally.”

“What of Lord Thornford?”

Harcourt peered in the direction of his friend who was surrounded by a gaggle of women and enjoying himself far too much. “I think he is otherwise occupied. I doubt he shall even notice I am gone.”

They made their way back to the house, following the road up out of the village and onto her brother’s land. Sunlight flecked between the leaves while the wind rustled the trees.

“I am glad I caught you, Merry. I thought we might be able to continue our conversation that was interrupted the other day.” He paused. “I hope Arabella is well.”

Merry’s smile was slightly forced. “She is well.”

“Good. In that case, I thought I might reiterate—”

“See?” she interrupted hastily. “The door is in dire need of replacement.”

Harcourt inspected the door that had splintered on one edge. To him, it looked as though someone had kicked it in.

“Is anything missing?”

Merry shrugged. “I would say no but there is so much in the house, it is hard to say. Most of it is not valuable though, not even the paintings. I’m certain it must have been the wind.”

He considered the exposed rear of the house. There were trees at the front, hiding it from the main house but the back of it was exposed to the weather. The recent wind could have blown it open, but he doubted it. He had no wish to scare Merry so he made a non-committal noise.

She was here alone. While he did not mind the opportunity to be with her, he didn’t like the thought of it if it meant someone could have easy access to her. Whoever this someone was and whatever it was they wanted with her. Harcourt was going to have to spend even more time with her whether she wanted him around or not.

“Where shall we start?” he asked, already loosening his cravat.

Merry folded her arms across her chest. “I suppose I have no choice but to let you help.”

“You could try to dissuade me, but you’d fail.”

“I do not know why you call me stubborn all the time when it is clearly you who is the stubborn one.”

“Perhaps, Merry, we simply match in stubbornness.” He grinned.

She huffed. “A recipe for disaster.”

“I disagree.”

Her throat bobbed a little and she turned away to clear her throat. “Come on then. If I cannot get rid of you, I might as well put you to good use.”

“I can think of nothing better.” He drawled the words, ensuring she heard the hidden meaning behind them.

She ignored him and marched to the kitchen stairs. He chuckled to himself as her stomping footsteps echoed through the empty house. Merry put up a good fight but he could read her too well. She was struggling to fight this.

He joined her down in the kitchen. Several lamps and candles were lit, suffusing the gloomy space with a warm glow. The jelly molds and bowls on the table had already been washed and set aside to dry, and some of the side tables looked clearer. Harcourt drew off his jacket and pulled the cufflinks from his sleeves and tucked them in his pocket. Rolling up his sleeves, he clapped his hands.

“What would you have me do?”

She glanced at his bare forearms. Many men would not have noticed but Harcourt did. He saw her tongue dart briefly over her lips and her gaze linger before she lifted her eyes.

“Um, what if I wash and you put away?”

“Sounds good.”

Merry set to work scrubbing the dust and grime off the various cooking implements while he stacked them away on the shelves and in cupboards. It took a good hour to get most it done and while he was no stranger to hard labor when needs be, he was glad he did not have to do such a laborious task every day.

“Now I know why cook complains when the kitchen is messy.”

Merry laughed. “Me too. I shall never dismiss his words again.” She lifted a jelly mold. “Who knew one needed so many molds?”

“I suspect one does not.” He took it from her and their fingers brushed. The instant shock of sensation should have been something he was getting used to by now, but he wasn’t. And nor was she. She tugged her hand away quickly and immersed it back in the water. “It looks as though your family liked to collect kitchen implements too.”

“I have yet to find anything that is just a collection of one. There was even a drawer of soaps upstairs. All new and unused so I shall have to donate them somewhere.”

“No doubt the church can find somewhere useful to send them.”

“I can see why this house was all but abandoned now. No one wanted to tackle such a mess.”

Harcourt leaned against the counter and eyed her. “Are you regretting starting this now?”

She shook her head vigorously, sending curls bouncing against her cheeks. “I know this is best for Daniel. And for me.”

“I know you think balls and at homes are a waste of time, Merry, but surely you do not want to become a spinster before your time?”

“I do not see why everyone thinks a woman alone is so strange. Why can one not be content with one’s own company?”

“One can be utterly content with one’s own company, but not at the expense of life.”

“I know how to live.” Creases appeared between her brows. “Life is not just about balls and at homes, you know?”

“Believe it or not, I do.”

She gave an unladylike snort. “Harcourt Easton giving up balls and parties...now that is stranger than me wishing to gain some peace and quiet to study.”

“Is it really that hard to believe that I have tired of it all?”

A pot in hand, she paused and met his gaze head on. “Truthfully. Yes. Do not forget that by the time I was fifteen, you were already well-established in Society. Stories of you and your...time in Town were infamous. I cannot see you giving up such an...adventurous life.” She lifted her chin a little. “And nor do I care if you do.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” she protested. “You are my friend, Harry, and I would no more wish a stale, staid life on you than I would wish a life of balls and celebrations on me.”

“Perhaps, though, your friend wants other things in life. We are all capable of change. Surely even your books tell you that?”

Merry lifted a shoulder. “I—”

A sudden bang from upstairs sent Harcourt’s pulse racing. He grabbed Merry and shoved her up against an alcove, flattening her to the wall with his body. She made a strangled sound.

“Shh.” He pressed a finger to his lips and listened.

“It was probably something falling. Or the wind,” she hissed.

He turned, aware of her heart beating a tattoo against his chest.

Her breasts were crushed to his chest, her hips aligned almost with his. Underneath his fingertips, her arms trembled. He very much doubted it was with fear.

She drew in a ragged breath. “Harry?” she whispered.

He let his gaze linger on her lips, then along the pale freckles dancing across her nose. Inwardly, he chided himself. If there was an intruder upstairs, lusting over Merry was not his best move.

“Harry, you are crushing me.” She tried to wriggle out from underneath him which only made things worse. Heat stirred in his body.

There was another thud, and Merry froze. He held his breath and listened again. Nothing more. Only the thump of his heart and the drip of a tap. Perhaps it was the wind again. But all his instincts said otherwise. And they were rarely wrong.

Spending time in London, even the more refined parts of Town, had left him with a keen instinct for danger. There were always plenty of thieves and criminals hoping to take advantage of the busy streets and lack of enforcement. Perhaps the strange man, and the footsteps and the broken door were nothing, but his instincts screamed otherwise.

Merry flattened her hands against his chest and pushed.

“Damn it, keep still, Merry.”

“Harry, I do not know what you think you are doing but it was just the wind. Or something. Certainly no reason for you to...to...” She drew in an audible breath. “To be so close to me,” she finished with a hiss.

He drew back, albeit reluctantly. If anyone caught them like this, Merry would be utterly ruined and as much as that might work in his favor, he had little intention of forcing her hand.

“Stay here,” he ordered. “I am going to find out what that was.” She opened her mouth and he pointed a finger at her. “Stay here. I mean it.”

Merry pressed her head back against the wall and rolled her eyes. “Fine. I shall stay here and hide from the wind. Goodness, Harry, I never expected you of all people to be so jittery.”

“Can you blame me, when I have so fine a woman to protect?”

Her brows furrowed, and lips pouted. “I do not need protection from the wind.”

“So you do not deny you are fine?”

“Well, no...I mean...” She sagged. “Just go and find out what that was. I shall stay here.” She made a motion of crossing her chest. “I promise.”

“Good.”

Harcourt made his way gingerly upstairs. Nothing save from the slight rattle of wind and a clock ticking somewhere could be heard. He checked out each room, one-by-one until he spotted an open window. The one that he had seen footprints by the other day. His palms grew clammy. That could not be a coincidence. For some reason, someone was trying to get access to the house. Or to Merry.

He finished searching the house but could find no more sign of an intruder or anything untoward. As much as he wanted to protect Merry from being fearful, her safety was more important. He’d have to tell her what he’d seen.

When he returned to the kitchen, he found her still pressed against the wall. She jolted slightly then straightened as he stepped off the final stair. He caught her quick look of relief that was masked hastily. Folding her arms, she gave him a smug smile. “I take it there was no great danger?”

“No.” He eyed her. “But you were worried for me, were you not?”

“Do not be ridiculous. Why should I worry about what mere wind might do to you?”

“Is it so hard to admit you care for me?”

“Not at all.” She swept a hand down her skirt, straightening out a non-existent crease. “You are my brother’s friend. Of course I care for you.”

“And your friend, Merry. Do not forget that.”

“Of course not.”

“You will need to get the carpenter to fix the window in the rear dining room. The latch is broken.”

She sighed. “Another thing to add to my lengthy list.”

He grabbed his jacket and shoved his arms into it. “In the meantime, I do not want you in this house alone.”

“It will be days before the carpenter can fix it,” she protested. “I have too much to do. Who knows when Daniel will return.”

“With these winds, a good while longer I suspect.” He took her hand and led her upstairs, ignoring her little tugs on his arm. “I will not have you alone in an unsecure house.”

“Harry, this protective, overbearing attitude is getting a little tiring.” She wrenched her hand from his once they reached the hallway. “I know you feel an obligation to look after me, but I am a grown woman, and am completely capable.”

“Do you not think I know that?” If he was in a less concerned mood, he’d probably be thinking exactly how grown up she now was. “But something is amiss. Someone is trying to gain access to the house.”

She made a dismissive noise.

“Or to you,” he added.

Merry opened her mouth, then shut it. Then opened it again. “Why would someone wish to get to me?”

He shrugged. “I cannot say, but it is not a risk I am willing to take.”

Tilting her head, she eyed him. “Have you had an accident and not told anyone about it? A hit to the head perhaps?”

“Of course not.”

“That would explain...” She waved a hand up and down. “All this.”

“All this?”

“Why you think a spot of wind is an intruder and why you believe someone might wish to harm me. And, of course, why you...Well...” Her cheeks colored.

“Well?”

“Why you are talking of...why you keep...” She bit down on her lip and readjusted her glasses despite them being perfectly in position.

“Why I am talking of you and me, you mean? Of love?”

She swung her gaze to the clock in the hallway. “Oh, look at the time. I should be heading back to the house.”

Harcourt chuckled. The clock didn’t work and still read seven o’clock. “I shall walk you.”

“There is really no need.”

“I insist. I shall see you to the tree then you can walk alone from there. No need to be seen with a rake like me then.” He grinned.

“I was not fearing for my reputation,” she insisted. “I just do not need an escort. It is only a quick walk down the road and I am on my brother’s land.”

“I know that. But I am still accompanying you.”

Merry gave a great huff. “See? Far more stubborn than I ever am.”

“More determined too, Merry,” he warned. “Far more determined.”