sat on the edge of my chair and watched Mrs. Nutley sip her tea. She seemed calmer now that we had her settled in the comfortable drawing room at Edenbrooke. But I felt sorry that she had spent the entire walk here worrying about James and whether it was her fault he had disappeared. Lady Caroline joined us in the drawing room and gently posed questions to Mrs. Nutley.

“He was returning to good health?”

“Yes, I was taking excellent care of him. In fact, the doctor had visited early yesterday and said James looked healed enough to go home in the next few days.”

“Has anything unusual happened that may explain his disappearance?” Lady Caroline asked.

“No, not today.” She set down her teacup. “But now that I think of it, something unusual did happen yesterday. I came downstairs while James was resting and saw a gentleman speaking with the innkeeper. The gentleman asked if a young lady had recently stayed the night. The innkeeper told him that, yes, there had been. Then the gentleman asked if she had had a companion with her. The innkeeper told him, yes, her maid. I thought, of course, of you, Miss Daventry.”

“What did this gentleman look like?” I asked.

“Rather dashing, I thought. I noticed he carried a walking cane.”

Mrs. Nutley could have been describing any number of young gentlemen in the area. And a walking cane was certainly not an unusual accessory.

“What else did the innkeeper tell him?” Lady Caroline asked.

“Why, he told him that you had left the inn and were on your way to Edenbrooke.” She turned worried brown eyes to me.

I chewed on my lip as I wondered who might be looking for me, and why. A run-of-the-mill highwayman wouldn’t come looking for his latest victim. But who else would guess that I had stayed at that inn? And who would care?

That afternoon I met Philip in the library with the intention of finally playing that game of chess. But it was a beautiful day, and when he suggested an excursion instead, I could not resist the temptation. He had the horses saddled while I fetched my sketchbook, and then we rode to the top of the knoll. It was the same spot he had led me to the first morning we rode together.

The same groom accompanied us, and when we reached the top of the knoll, he led the horses to graze nearby while Philip and I chose a shady spot beneath the large tree. From where I sat, I could look around and see almost all of Edenbrooke below me. We talked while I sketched, and sometimes Philip just watched me in silence. It was a comfortable stretch of moments together.

We had been silent for some time when Philip suddenly asked, “Where is your father?”

“A little village in France.” I felt sad saying the words.

“Have you any idea if he is coming home soon?”

I studied him before answering, surprised by his question. But he didn’t look at me, and I could read nothing from his profile. “No, I have no idea what his plans are.”

And then Philip did turn to me, in time to see the flare of sadness I felt at the thought of my father’s absence. His eyebrows contracted in an expression of concern. “Do you want him to come home?”

I sighed and plucked a blade of grass. “Of course I do.”

I hoped that would be the end of his line of questioning, but Philip said, “Does he know how you feel?”

I shrugged. “I’ve never told him, in so many words. I haven’t wanted to. If he is happier there, then that is where he should be.”

“You spend so much time thinking about other people’s feelings,” he said quietly. “I wonder how much thought you give to your own. Is your father more deserving of happiness than you are?”

I took a deep breath, struggling to push my emotions back down to their normal level. Philip, somehow, in the hours I had spent with him, had developed a special ability to unravel my defenses and access secrets that I didn’t share with anyone. Today his words plucked at the sore parts of my heart, tearing off raw bits of sadness.

Philip was waiting for a response, his serious blue eyes on me.

“Perhaps,” I said, striving to sound light, when inside I felt like weeping.

He shook his head. “I disagree.”

I didn’t want to discuss this anymore. “Let’s not talk about that. Not when the day has been so pleasant.” I forced a smile and waved the piece of grass at the view before us. “Look at all of this beauty before you. Wouldn’t you rather just enjoy it?”

“I am looking at it,” he said, never taking his eyes off of me. “And I am enjoying it,” he added with a smile and a wink.

My face grew hot even as his smile grew. He had only said that about my supposed beauty to make me blush. I hated that he could affect me with just a look or some pretty words. And I hated that he wanted to affect me, as if I were a plaything to him.

I frowned and threw the piece of grass at him. “Can you never be serious for more than two minutes?”

“What makes you think I’m not serious?” he asked, looking up at me through his lashes.

I shook my head, utterly exasperated. I had done everything in my power to discourage Philip from flirting with me, from scowling at him to ignoring him to scolding him. But nothing worked. He still insisted on trying to flirt with me every time we were together.

Didn’t he know that if I ever attempted to flirt back with him, it would change everything? Ruin everything? Because then we would not simply be friends. We would be friends who flirted, and I would be a dismal failure at it.

I felt he should not treat our friendship with so little care. But perhaps it didn’t mean to him what it meant to me. Perhaps he could afford to lose me as a friend. I stood up, suddenly very upset, and took a step away from him.

Philip grabbed the hem of my gown. “Wait,” he said, laughing.

I looked down at him, my hands clenched into fists.

“Please don’t leave,” he said, a cajoling smile turning his lips up charmingly. “I won’t do it again.”

Well, at least he knew why I was upset. But the idea of him not doing it again? Hah! I raised an eyebrow in deep skepticism.

“In the next five minutes,” he added with a chuckle.

I tried to stay angry with him, but he looked so endearing, smiling up at me, holding onto the hem of my gown as a child might cling to his mother. Right then I could imagine him as a little boy, with his soulful blue eyes and chestnut curls. He must have been adorable. My heart thawed. It would have to be made out of stone not to.

I felt a smile twitch at my lips, and at that instant I knew that Philip would always be able to charm me out of a bad mood.

I sat down again and looked at the view, fighting against a smile. I finally said, “You’re very good at that, you know.”

“At what?” I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Charming me into a good humor.”

“Just like you’re good at making me laugh?”

“Am I?” I turned to him in real curiosity. I hadn’t realized that I had sat down closer to him than I had been before, so when I turned to him, suddenly, leaning toward him in my curiosity, I discovered Philip’s face just inches from my own. He grew absolutely still—I could have sworn he was holding his breath—and I was reminded of that day in the library. How still he had been then, too, as if he was waiting for me to discover something within him.

Philip drew in his breath as if he were going to say something. But he paused, and for the first time since I had met him, I saw uncertainty in his expression, like a wash over a painting, clouding his clear, confident look. It surprised me. I thought Philip was unfailingly confident.

He looked away and said quietly, “Yes, you are.”

I sat back, feeling something new and intense buzzing inside of me. I didn’t have a name to put to it. I just knew that it was unsettling.

The silence between us stretched longer and longer, until it lost its tension and became a part of the scene we were enjoying together. I felt no desire to break it. I set my sketchbook aside and leaned back on my hands. The afternoon heat settled over me like a blanket, and I felt drowsy and content sitting in the shade of the tree.

Philip stretched out on the ground, his arm folded under his head. I felt jealous. I wished I wasn’t a lady in a gown, or I could have done the same. Instead I had to sit modestly, trying to make sure my ankles were covered. The heat was making me sleepier than I realized, and my eyelids became heavy.

Philip glanced at me. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

“I am,” I yawned.

He stood up and shrugged out of his jacket, then folded it into a square and set it on the grass. “If you’re going to have a nap outside you may as well lie down and enjoy it.”

“I shouldn’t,” I said, looking at the tempting pillow he had made out of his jacket. “I’m sure it’s breaking one of the rules of being ladylike.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he said with a perfectly polite smile, not teasing or mischievous.

I glanced over my shoulder. The groom was resting in the shade of another tree, on the other side of the knoll, with his back to us.

It was too tempting to resist. I managed to keep my skirt tucked modestly in place while lying down. Philip’s jacket smelled like the woods on a summer day mixed with some other pleasant masculine scent and made a very nice pillow. I curled onto my side and Philip stretched out next to me, at what I thought was a proper distance, his arm under his head, looking out at the view. The warm silence settled into me, soothing me to my bones. I think I was smiling when I fell asleep.

I couldn’t have slept very long. I awoke to a soft breeze across my skin and the tickle of grass along my arm. I opened my eyes and looked straight into Philip’s. He was facing me, reclined on his elbow, and watching me with a thoughtful expression. I wondered how long he had been watching me like that. A drowsy thought flitted through my mind that I liked seeing him in his shirt and waistcoat. He seemed more casual, more familiar, more like how I thought of him—comfortable.

“How was your nap?” he asked.

“Very nice, thank you.” I smiled contentedly.

A breeze blew under the tree, teasing a lock of my hair loose so that it escaped its twist and flew across my face. Before I could move, Philip caught the lock of hair and tucked it behind my ear, his fingers brushing my cheek and neck in a surprisingly intimate gesture. My heart skittered at his touch, a blush rising to my cheeks. His gaze grew into something I had never seen before. More than warm, different than serious—it was intimate, gentle, and significant. Nobody had ever looked at me like that before.

I felt completely unnerved and deeply confused, both by Philip’s actions and by my reaction to him. I was also keenly aware of the very inappropriate position I was in, lying down less than an arm’s length away from a man. What had seemed harmless and innocent a moment before now felt almost scandalous.

I sat up and frowned at the grass, growing more self-conscious by the second. I could feel Philip’s gaze on my face as he sat up next to me, and I blushed hotter with the awkwardness of the moment. I didn’t know what to say or do. I was beyond inept. This was excruciating.

Suddenly Philip said in a light tone, “You snore, you know.”

I looked up sharply and gasped. “I do not!”

“You do.” He had that familiar teasing glint in his eyes.

“I have never been told that I snore. I am sure you’re mistaken.”

He grinned. “You snore like a big, fat man.”

A laugh burst from me. I was sure he was lying. “Stop it,” I said, swatting at his shoulder. “You are so inappropriate. What gentleman tells a lady that she snores?”

“What lady falls asleep in a gentleman’s presence?” He lifted an eyebrow and looked at me as if I had done something scandalous.

I felt my blush flare up again. “You said it was alright,” I said defensively.

He chuckled. “No, I didn’t. I said I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

I pressed my lips together to keep myself from smiling and shot him a dark look. He grinned wickedly. To my astonishment, I suddenly had the strongest urge to kiss those grinning lips, wicked or not.

I looked down, flustered, and so surprised with myself that I couldn’t gather my wits. I had never wanted to kiss a man before—at least, not a specific man. I picked up Philip’s jacket, stood, and brushed the grass off of it.

“Thank you for the pillow,” I said politely, handing it to him as he stood.

“You are welcome to borrow my pillow any time,” he said with such a rakish glint in his eyes that I thought I should slap him for it.

Instead I glared at him, hands on hips. “Philip Wyndham! That is the most inappropriate thing I have ever heard, and if your mother were here she would give you the scolding of your life! In fact, I have half a mind to go tell her what an atrocious, incorrigible, scandalous tease she has raised.”

He didn’t look the least bit chagrined. He just smiled and said, “If my mother were here I wouldn’t have said it. That was for your ears only.” And then he winked.

I stared at him in disbelief. There was no stopping him. He had no limits to how far he would go with his outrageous flirting.

“Ugh!” I clenched my fists and stomped my foot in frustration.

His head tilted to one side; his lips twitched. “Did you just stomp your foot?”

I pressed my lips together tightly, but the amusement in his eyes was too much. A little laugh escaped me, and then his shoulders were shaking, and suddenly we were both laughing like we had that first night at the inn. I laughed until my throat ached.

“Well, I’m glad to see you took my advice about the stomping.” He chuckled. “Although it really didn’t help.”

“You are the most infuriating man I have ever known,” I told him, and I meant it.

But he just smiled. Of course. Nothing penetrated him when he was in this mood. “You are so enchanting when you insult me,” he said.

I abruptly turned and walked to the horses.

What a scandalous, inappropriate, odious flirt! He would never leave me alone. He would never just be my friend. He always had to make me feel childish and awkward with his outrageous flirting! I felt churned up inside and embarrassed for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was the fact that I had thought about kissing that scandalous, inappropriate, odious flirt.

Well, I would just ride off and show him what a good seat I had and that I didn’t need his company or his flirting or his horrid teasing. I waved off the groom as he hurried toward me. I did not need any man’s assistance. I untied Meg and then looked at the stirrups. I had never mounted her without a mounting block, and I could see immediately that I wouldn’t be able to. The lowest stirrup hung level with my shoulders.

I heard Philip approach and turned reluctantly to him, although I didn’t look at his face. His cravat was closer to my eye level and was a good substitute when I didn’t want to meet his eyes.

“It looks like I’ll need a leg up,” I muttered, mad that I couldn’t ride off dramatically on my own like I had planned.

He stepped right up to me, but instead of cupping his hands into a step for me, he wrapped his hands around my waist. I caught my breath and looked up at him, surprised by how my heart thumped around in my chest and how my skin tingled under his strong hands. His eyes were such a deep blue—almost navy. He looked at me as softly as a caress.

“I’ll help you up if you’ll forgive me for my horrid teasing.” He spoke in a soft voice, a regretful twist to his smile. “It’s no excuse, but I have always found it extremely difficult to behave as I ought to when I’m with you, Marianne.”

I felt oddly breathless, and suddenly all of my anger drained from me, leaving me lightheaded. “Are you saying I bring out the worst in you?” I asked, smiling, ready to be charmed.

He took a breath, held it, and I could almost see the words hanging off the edge of his lips. But then, for the second time today, I saw a flash of uncertainty in his eyes. When he released his breath, it sounded like a sigh.

“Something like that,” he murmured. I wondered what he had really wanted to say.

Then he lifted me as easily as if I were a small child and set me gently on my saddle. I was so unnerved by the interaction that I sat in a daze for a minute before realizing that he had mounted his horse and was waiting for me.

When I caught up with him, he said, “Don’t worry—I won’t tell anyone that you snore.” Then he grinned at me and I couldn’t help myself. I laughed. I knew I shouldn’t. I knew it would just encourage him to behave in his atrocious way in the future, but the laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop myself. He looked very satisfied and challenged me to a race.

He won, of course. He always won.