A little rain broke the summer heat they’d been experiencing, bringing with it a beautiful rainbow that arched across the village, reaching down to the sands of Lulworth Cove. The scent of salt from the sea was strong today as a fresh breeze brought it across the cliffs. Harcourt did not take the time to admire any of it, however. He had more important things to do.

Griff was keeping himself busy, having already been invited to visit with several of the prominent families. Harcourt grinned to himself. He should have known the man would land on his feet with ease no matter where he went. At least it meant Harcourt could get time alone with Merry.

He strode up toward the Whitely estate. Hopefully Merry had not begun work without him. If yesterday was anything to go by, the woman would get herself into a pile of mischief and it would be up to him to dig her out. As much as he did not mind coming to her rescue, he was not certain Merry’s pride could take another fall. She had the ability to grow even more defensive when hurt, like a creature striking out after injury to ensure its survival. Her cold father had never helped matters, he suspected.

He paused on the road to the dower house when he spotted a figure. And it was certainly not Merry nor her friends. He scowled. A man scampered around the building and stopped by one of the windows. Harcourt eased himself out of the man’s view but was able to see him as he pressed his nose to the window. He could hardly be a thief, not with his elegant if slightly unfashionable dress.

Waiting, Harcourt watched as the man seemed to startle and scamper away. Though tempted to follow the stranger as he headed off down an ill-trodden path that would take him out onto the fields then to the main road, he did not much like the idea of leaving Merry unaccompanied.

What if the man was not alone? And what the devil was he spying on her for? It was no secret now that Merry intended to take over the dower house, particularly now that she was in conversation with the blacksmith and carpenter to help fix the building. Many were gossiping at how strange it was that a young woman should wish to lock herself away like that. Whoever that person was, he must have been looking for Merry.

The front door of the house was ajar. He shook his head. Anyone could walk in and accost her. Yes, they lived in a small, safe village, but that did not mean she should be blasé about her safety. There were no servants present today nor her friends by the sounds of it. He was certain if they were here, he’d know about it. He sighed. If that man had meant her harm, it would not have been difficult to get to her.

Pushing open the door, he paused abruptly. Glass shards were scattered across the hard-tiled floor of the hallway so that any visitor would tread almost immediately on them. Was this the work of that man? Had he been hoping to hurt Merry...or a visitor perhaps? And why? He jerked his head up at the sound of footfalls on the stairs.

“Stop!” he ordered.

Merry froze halfway down the stairs. Except for her startled expression, she was perfection. He was looking forward to her coming out of mourning wear but even in black, she made his heart race. There was something so damned enchanting about that forever befuddled expression and the way her crazed curls refused to be confined by pins.

He clamped his hands to his sides while he considered plucking those pins from her hair and thrusting his fingers into those soft locks.

“What is it?” she hissed. “Rolly?”

Frowning, Harcourt shook his head. “Rolly?”

“Yes, Rolly. The rat. Is he back?”

He chuckled. “No, Rolly is not back. Really, Merry, who names a rat?”

“Bella.” She took another step down and he strode forward, glass crunching under his boots.

“There’s broken glass everywhere,” he explained, holding a hand out to her. “Your shoes shall never survive it.”

“My shoes are quite sturdy.”

He glanced down at the boots that peeked out from under her hem. They were no dancing slippers but nor were they as strong as his boots. “I am not taking the chance. Take my hand.”

She scowled but put her hand in his and stepped down onto the bottom stair. Harcourt swiftly slipped a hand under her legs and swept her up into his arms.

“Oh!” Merry instinctively wrapped her arms about his neck.

Her gentle weight was expected. The need twisting about his insides not quite so much. Yes, he’d desired Merry for quite some time, but he’d always managed to keep it under control—except after the funeral. He could not help but recall how soft her lips had been and how perfectly she’d fitted against him. Just like she did now.

Carrying her into one of the drawing rooms, he set her down on a sheet-covered chair. “Stay here,” he commanded.

Her eyes were still wide and her lips slightly parted when he left her to clean up the glass but at least he knew she’d stay in one place.

He made swift work of sweeping up the glass with a broom he found in one of the rooms then disposing of it. Satisfied with a job well done, he headed back into the drawing room to find Merry where he’d left her.

“Well, this is a miracle. Merry Bradford actually did what I told her.”

The slight air of confusion snapped away and she stood. “There was no need for you to...to lift me. I could have stepped across it.”

“And have glass embedded in your foot, I don’t think so. Did you see what happened?”

She shook her head. “I have been upstairs in the bedroom for most of the morning.” A smile curved her lips and lit her eyes. “I’ve made quite a lot of progress. It should look quite pleasant once I am finished.”

“So you don’t know how that glass came to be there?”

She waved a hand. “I probably knocked something over earlier. There’s so much clutter and, well, you know what I’m like when I have my mind set to something. I was quite determined to get this bedroom clean.”

He glanced over her dusty appearance. “I can see that.”

And he knew well how Merry could be once she was occupied. The chances were she could have knocked over a glass of some kind and not noticed, but he doubted it. The presence of that strange man and the glass was too much of a coincidence, but why would someone want to harm Merry? He could not fathom a reason.

Harcourt shrugged off his jacket and laid it over the back of a chair before starting on waistcoat buttons. Merry eyed him, her lashes fluttering rapidly. He grinned. “Well, now that the glass is gone, why do you not show me what is to be done?”

“To be done?” Her gaze lingered on his arms as he rolled up his shirt sleeves.

“Upstairs?”

“Oh. Yes. Um...” She blinked and finally lifted her gaze to his. “There are some furnishings I need to rearrange, and I discovered more boxes of shells. I must find a home for them elsewhere. You could, um, make yourself useful doing that.”

“Excellent. Feel free to put me to use anyway you see fit.”

The rosy stain in her cheeks darkened.

“Are we alone today?” he asked.

“Yes.” The word came out husky. “Yes.” She straightened. “And if my brother were here, you know he would not allow it.”

“Well, what Dan does not know will not hurt him.”

At least he hoped not. Given Harcourt’s past, he could not guarantee Dan would be thrilled about his feelings for Merry but once he proved he had good intentions, he could not see how her brother could complain. After all, he and Dan had been the best of friends since their Oxford days. Dan had to know Harcourt would never hurt Merry.

“Let us make a start then, before we are discovered.” He winked, and she looked away from him.

The bedroom did not look much better than the rest of the house, but the windows gleamed, as did the armoire. Open boxes of shells and various stones were stacked up in one corner.

“I found them once we moved the dresser,” she explained. “I’m not sure which of my ancestors loved shells so much but I suspect these are not the only boxes of them.” She put her hands on her hips. “Goodness knows what I will do with them. It seems a shame to just discard them.”

“I wonder if you might be able to donate some.”

She picked up a small one and showed him. “They’re hardly unusual. I could likely find another hundred on the beach if I tried hard enough.”

“Perhaps we should have a sort through and find the best ones,” he suggested. “But for now, I shall get these moved out of here. Where are you putting everything?”

“At the moment, I’m squeezing them into that bedroom.” She pointed down the hallway to the room that had been cluttered with furniture and all sorts when he’d first visited.

Merry did not seem to comprehend how big a task she had ahead of her. Far be it for him to tell her, though. As far as he was concerned, she deserved better than being tucked away in a dower house, but at least it afforded him the opportunity to get her alone, away from the gossips and prying eyes.

Harcourt set to work clearing the boxes and stacking them in the other room while Merry stripped down the bed and swept the floors, sending clouds of dust everywhere. She eased open a window to let fresh air circulate.

Once she’d finished sweeping, she began lifting the paintings from the wall. Harcourt shifted the final box and helped her remove a particularly large painting and set it on the floor. Light had stained the ugly yellowed wallpaper, leaving dark marks where the pictures had once been.

“I shall have to find new wallpaper—and different paintings too.” She nodded toward the one they had just removed which depicted a gruesome medieval battle.

“Charming. Just what one wishes to see before drifting off to sleep.”

“Precisely. Whoever slept in here had strange taste. Though I am wondering if my great-grandmother or grandfather were quite strange in general. So many belongings and collections...” She shook her head. “I cannot fathom wanting to own so much.”

“Well, perhaps a few years alone here and you shall follow in their footsteps,” he teased.

Merry shook her head defiantly. “I like things tidy, as you well know. I cannot stand clutter.”

“Yes, I know.” His throat felt tight from all the dust so tugged at his cravat, drawing it lose and stuffing it into his breeches pocket. “Sometimes, I think I know you better than I know myself, Merry.”

“Do not be silly.” The words were a whisper. Her gaze was glued to the opening of his shirt.

A silent thrill of triumph ran through him. He was done skirting around this. Today would be the day he confronted Merry about her feelings for him and settled things once and for all.