Harcourt took the early ejection from the house as an opportunity to look around the perimeter of Merry’s soon-to-be house. He could not get that man’s suspicious behavior from his mind. Perhaps his time in busy London had made him paranoid—after all rarely anything of interest happened in Lulworth. It was too small, and everyone knew everyone. It would not hurt to make sure things were well, however.

He paced around the back of the building and paused at some marks in the ground. On a wetter day, someone had been standing by the window and footprints were now cast into the dried mud. The overgrown grass and foliage showed signs of being pushed down.

Harcourt strode over to the window that the path led to and frowned at the window frame. There were patches of paint missing on the bottom of the frame, as though someone had been using a tool to pry it open. He rubbed a hand across his face. It was obvious there were no riches in the house—even with the clutter that was in there, little of it had value. No thief in their right mind would want to rob such a rundown house, and it had stood empty for years. Why would someone decide to steal from it now? His gut itched, much like before he was about to lose a card game. Something was not right.

He’d always intended to come back the next day. And the next after that. And many more. If he had not been interrupted by Bella, he’d have laid things out straight for Merry. He was not here to seduce...though he did wish to sway her a little. He was here because he loved her. But there were other things to worry about now too. He needed to keep a close eye on her if there was some danger to her person. How would he live with himself if something happened to her? He’d have to remain even closer than he’d originally intended.

By the time he’d finished his lap of the house, Merry and Bella were long gone. He began the journey home toward Lulworth Castle. The name of his ancestral seat was deceptive—it had not been a castle for over one hundred years when the original building had been knocked down to make way for its current incarnation. He made good time, walking from the Whitely estate, along the road and onto his estate. The large park surrounding the castle was always filled with deer and he could see them scattered over the hills that reached past Lulworth Cove and beyond.

The two towers of the building dominated the landscape, capping off a squared mock castle. Harcourt picked up his pace once he neared the building, entering via the servant’s entrance.

“Is Lord Thornford still abed?” he asked one of the maids.

“Yes, my lord. I think May just took him a morning meal.”

Harcourt nodded with satisfaction. As much as he liked his friend’s company, it was easier to deal with Merry alone.

Making his way upstairs, he headed to the study. Lined with books on every wall, the room reminded him of Merry. When she had been younger and visited with her brother, she’d enjoyed the study almost as much as the library. She claimed its smaller proportions made a perfect reading space. He could almost picture her curled up on the chair in the corner whilst he dealt with estate business at his desk.

But it was no estate business that he needed to be concerned with now. He sat and dabbed the quill into ink as he drew out a fresh sheet of paper. No, his primary concern was Merry. Or to be more exact, what someone wanted with Merry. With her father recently dead, it seemed no coincidence that someone was spying on her.

There could be debts attached to the estate, he supposed. Perhaps her father had done business with some nefarious people. Whatever it was, he would not let Merry get tangled up in it. He penned a quick letter to his lawyer in London, requesting information on Merry’s father and his dealings, as well as expressing the need for some investigating. If someone out there was looking to harm or threaten Merry in some way, he wanted to know about it.

As he sealed the letter, the door to the study opened. He swung a glance at it, expecting it to be the butler or his valet, but a bonneted head popped around the doorway.

“There you are!” His mother eased open the door fully and stepped in. She still wore travelling clothes but looked as glamorous as ever. “Goodness, you do look a mess.”

Harcourt arched a brow. “It’s nice to see you too, Mother. I thought you were still in Bath. I had no notice of your return.”

She waved a hand and came to perch on the edge of the desk. With chestnut hair only marginally streaked with gray and a persistent smile, it was hard to remember his mother was ageing. She prided herself on being the center of all things social and could be counted on to liven up even the dullest of balls.

He suspected her attitude to socializing had rubbed off on him years ago and could be to blame for decadent years in London. Or he was simply making an excuse for himself. But he felt no shame over that time. That had been one segment of his life—the period where he figured out what he wanted—and this next one was another. With any luck, it would see him married and settled—with one woman specifically.

“I probably beat my letter home. The roads were so dry that we made perfect timing. So rare for this country.”

“If I’d have known, I would have made sure I was home.”

She leaned forward and adjusted his cravat then scowled. “What have you been doing? There’s dust in your hair. Goodness, actually, there’s dust everywhere.”

“I’ve been helping a friend,” he said simply.

“By getting dusty? My dear, I am certain you forget your position at times. One does not need to get dirty to help one’s friends.”

“A little dust never killed anyone, Mother.”

She slid off the desk and smoothed down her skirt. “I am certain that is not true. I’m willing to bet that dust has killed at least one person.” She grinned, her eyes twinkling. “Now, go and get cleaned and changed. I am hosting an ‘at home’ this afternoon.”

He eyed her. “You cannot have been home long.”

“And I am itching to see everyone.”

“How will they even know you’ve returned?”

“Oh, they shall know.” His mother’s smile turned mischievous. “I ensured that I took the carriage directly through the village. Everyone saw my return. All my friends shall know I am home before long. Besides, we have a guest do we not? Lord Langley. I have not seen him in some time.”

“You always did like to make an entrance.” Harcourt stood, letter in hand, and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. “Though Lord Thornford is likely still abed. He cannot get used to country hours.”

“Well, he had better. He was devilishly handsome if I recall. I am certain many shall want to invite him to their homes.”

Harcourt masked a smile. If his mother started meddling in Griff’s love life, he would definitely want to return to London sooner rather than later. “It is good to have you home.”

“Yes, yes.” She brushed dust from his shoulders. “Now go and change. There shall be many eligible ladies visiting, no doubt.”

He frowned. “I’ve changed my mind. You should go back to Bath.”

She laughed. “Do not be like that. You are past thirty, my dear.”

“Only just,” he grumbled.

“It is high time you married, and would it not be nice to marry a local girl? There are many lovely ones who are just ripe for marriage.”

Harcourt considered this. He could only think of one, and Merry was probably not what his mother considered ‘ripe for marriage’, particularly considering Merry seemed to be committing herself to some sort of spinster lifestyle by moving into the dower house. There were a few young ladies in the village who were of good breeding and had all the manners and refinements that his mother would like but none of them had ever interested him. He preferred his women with a little more courage.

“I have too much to do, I’m afraid, Mother. You shall have to entertain these ripe girls alone.”

“Oh, you are wicked. Do you not see that I am ageing? I need grandchildren, Harry, and quickly. Not to mention, it’s your bloody duty.”

He chuckled at his mother’s foul language. As much as she was the epitome of a grand lady in Society, there was no covering her bold personality at home.

“I shall do my duty, I promise.” And hopefully sooner than his mother expected. “But I will not attend any ‘at homes’.”

She gave a dramatic sigh. “Well, you cannot say I do not try.”

“That I cannot. Enjoy your tea and cakes.”

He chuckled to himself when his mother swept out of the room. She’d been in Bath for several months and although he’d rather hoped she’d stay there while he dealt with the...Merry situation...he did not dislike having her home.

Though, he had no plans to tell her about Merry yet. She would approve, even if she did not think Merry was exactly countess material. Of course, his mother had been wanting him married for years, ever since the early death of his father really. He suspected her preoccupation with his marriage was not just her doing her motherly duty. It gave her something to focus on instead of grieving for his father. He’d be quite glad when he no longer had to deal with his mother’s rather unsubtle matchmaking skills.

Perhaps, if he was clever, he could turn her attention to Griff. His friend might not thank him, but it would leave him time to worry about the Merry situation alone. He grinned to himself. Poor Griff had little idea what he had let himself in for when he’d decided to accompany him here.