her newspaper to the current when she spotted James Devereux in the shade of the willow hanging over the far bank.
‘Want some help?’ he asked, grinning broadly.
‘No,’ she said through her teeth.
To her annoyance he kicked off his shoes and strolled across the stones towards her, sure-footed as a panther. ‘Give me your hand,’ he ordered.
Harriet hesitated, almost lost her balance, and James grabbed her hand and hauled her across the stream straight up the bank into Edenhurst territory.
‘Now I’ve saved you from a ducking I claim a reward,’ he said, collecting his shoes. ‘Have lunch with me, Harriet. No wedding or conference this weekend. It’s fairly peaceful here for once.’
Harriet eyed him in astonishment as she thrust damp feet into her sandals. ‘If this is a ploy to win me over about End House it won’t work.’
‘Certainly not. I just think it’s time you and I tried to get along better, for Tim’s sake.’ His lips twitched. ‘Besides, when I’m bent on persuasion—of any kind—I tend towards champagne and caviare.’
‘I detest caviare.’
‘I’ll make a note of that.’ He smiled persuasively. ‘But right now a humble sandwich is the only thing involved. So what do you say?’
She looked at him for a moment, then gave a reluctant nod. ‘All right.’
His lips twitching at her lack of enthusiasm, James rang the house to order a picnic lunch in the folly. ‘I remember the days when you ran wild round here, Harriet,’ he commented as they began climbing the steep, winding path. He glanced at her fleetingly. ‘You’ve changed out of all recognition since then. The clothes are not much different, I suppose, but the resemblance ends there, full stop. At one time it was hard to tell you from Tim, whereas now—’
‘Whereas now,’ she cut back at him, ‘my hair’s long and you can tell exactly what sex I am. But I’m stuck with the voice.’
He stopped dead at a stile blocking the path, comprehension dawning in his eyes. ‘Is this something I said?’
‘I once overheard you trying to persuade Tim to spend less time with me and more with the village boys.’ Harriet smiled sweetly. ‘If you were trying to turn him off me it didn’t work.’
‘Quite the reverse! Tim’s been crazy about you since he was fourteen years old.’
‘Thirteen,’ corrected Harriet.
‘Unlucky for some,’ James said lightly, and startled her considerably by picking her up to deposit her on the other side of the stile.
By the time they reached the mock-Grecian temple where she’d once played endless games with Tim, their lunch was waiting on the stone bench girdling the interior. The tray held fresh fruit, a covered silver dish of sandwiches and an opened bottle of red wine.
James poured a glass for Harriet, and sat down beside her on the bench to remove the cover from the platter. ‘Definitely no caviare,’ he assured her.
‘Quite a choice just the same,’ she said, impressed. ‘Is that how things work for you all the time, James? You just wave a wand and—what have I said?’
‘You actually allowed my given name to pass your lips!’ He raised his glass in mocking toast. ‘To truce, Harriet, long may it last. Now, what would madam like? Ham, smoked salmon, and, yes, I do believe there’s good old cheese as well.’
‘Very good old cheese,’ she said, tasting it.
Harriet took a long, affectionate look at the house while they ate in surprisingly comfortable silence for a minute or two. Edenhurst’s limestone architecture was typical of the area, with dips built into the steeply pitched roof to keep the tiles in place, and small-paned casement windows protected by stone mullions and drip-courses. But Harriet felt a sudden, sharp stab of nostalgia. Now it was restored and renovated as a luxury hotel, with park-perfect gardens, Edenhurst wore an air of affluence very different from the shabby charm of the past.
‘What are you thinking?’ said James.
‘That in some ways I preferred the house the way it was when I first came here.’
He smiled wryly. ‘A romantic viewpoint! To me it was an endless juggle of resources in those days, to decide which repair to do next.’
‘Tim told me that.’ Harriet cast a glance at him as she took another sandwich. ‘My grandmother was deeply impressed by the way you tackled the problem.’
‘So she told me. She was a very special lady.’ His mouth turned down. ‘It went against the grain to part with any family possessions, but I had no choice. Then I had a stroke of luck when a college friend put some capital in with mine to found the company.’ He shook his head reminiscently. ‘God, how we worked—twenty hours a day in the beginning.’
‘It certainly paid off. The rest is history.’ Harriet smiled crookedly. ‘You know, it amazes me that this is happening.’
‘You and me, alone, breaking bread together?’
‘Exactly.’
His eyes glinted as he refilled her glass. ‘Even though I’m the wicked squire trying to evict you from your home?’
‘Trying to tempt me out of it with an inflated offer!’
‘Not inflated at all. End House possesses a larger garden than its neighbours, remember, plus a conservatory.’
Harriet sighed. ‘My friend thinks I’m mad to refuse such a good offer, but it’s hard to part with the house. It’s been my home for a long time. Besides, selling it is too much like a final break from my grandmother—who was a practical soul, and would laugh me out of court for being so sentimental.’
‘I see your point.’ James looked at her searchingly. ‘But if selling is out of the question are you thinking of letting it instead?’
‘I did consider that, but a solicitor friend of mine pointed out some of the drawbacks of being a landlord.’ She sighed. ‘If I thought I could get work in the area I’d live at End House myself.’
‘You might find life in Upcote a little quiet after London, so think it over very carefully before you make a decision,’ he advised.
‘I came down here to do just that. But it means a week less for my holiday in Italy with Tim later on,’ added Harriet with regret.
‘Tim told me he’s persuaded you to go to La Fattoria at last.’ James frowned. ‘Doesn’t he mind that you’re cutting the holiday short?’
‘Only my part of it.’ Harriet shrugged. ‘Tim’s going on ahead for the first week. He doesn’t mind.’
‘Because where Tim’s concerned you can do no wrong.’
She put her glass down on the tray with a click. ‘You just don’t understand my relationship with Tim. We don’t live in each other’s pockets. If he wants to do something independently I’m perfectly happy with that, and the reverse also applies.’
James shook his head. ‘I’d be anything but happy in the same circumstances.’
‘Really?’ said Harriet sweetly. ‘If that was your attitude with Madeleine no wonder she took off.’
He got up, his handsome face suddenly blank as he stacked the remains of their lunch on the tray. ‘You know nothing about my marriage, young lady.’
‘No, indeed—I beg your pardon.’ Harriet jumped to her feet, her face hot. ‘I’d better go.’
‘Why? What’s so pressing at End House that you can’t stay for coffee?’ He smiled a little, his eyes warming again. ‘You know how easy it is to get service round here. I just wave my wand.’
Harriet