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strict.”
    Meredith bit her lip. Would she ever have the last word? “If you will take the next gap in the hedge to your left, we may follow the bridle path.”
    â€œAs you command, ma’am.” Rutherford, for his part, was no stranger to the contours of the female frame, but he was finding the proximity of Lady Blake both disconcerting and distracting. There was a lithe suppleness to her, a vibrant tension in her body where it touched his, a muscular vibrancy rarely found in the fair sex, and his hands still carried the memory of her breasts, small and shapely beneath that hideous bodice.
    Such thoughts did not allow for conversation. Once they had attained the bridle path, complete silence reigned until they broke through a small copse of young birch trees onto a gravel driveway leading to a long, low building, dark and silent under the moon.
    Damian drew in Saracen, and into the silence came the unmistakable roar and crash of breakers. The salt tang of the sea filled the air, the night breeze was fresher, tipped with moisture. “Where is the sea?” he asked, frowning into the gloom.
    â€œBeyond the house,” Meredith replied. “Pendennis stands atop the cliff, its back to the sea. We have approached it from inland.” It had been a civil enough question, deserving of a civil response, but now her voice sharpened. “If you will allow me to dismount here, Lord Rutherford, I may make my own way to the house in complete safety as you can see.”
    â€œIndeed,” he agreed, swinging promptly to the ground. “I should be sorry to think I was the only one to enjoy our ride.” Reaching up, he took her by the waist again.
    Meredith, to her annoyance, felt herself blush as he lifted her down, felt her body tense in anticipation as he held onto her after her feet touched ground. Then he was bowing to her with impeccable formality, and, thoroughly flustered, she returned a curtsy.
    Knowing laughter gleamed in the gray eyes. “Would you perhaps have preferred another kiss, my lady?”
    Merrie’s jaw dropped. “You are insufferable, Lord Rutherford.” Swinging on her heel, she walked away toward the house.
    Damian stood, watching until she had disappeared around the side of the building. What an intriguing kettle of fish he had stumbled upon. A lively, attractive, unconventional young woman who, for reasons known only to herself, pretended to be a reclusive dowd. But, unless he was much mistaken, beneath that prim exterior ran a well of passion as yet barely touched. He had scratched the surface just a little tonight. What would be revealed if he persevered? Of one thing Lord Rutherford was convinced, there would be much pleasure in the persevering.
    Yes, the cultivation of Lady Blake was going to provide considerable entertainment, he decided as he remounted and turned his horse back to the copse. His lordship was in sore need of diversion these days to keep the bleak sense of futility at bay, the sense that his usefulness was over, that life held only the prospect of the annual society round, the Season, marriage, succession to his father’s title, producing his own heirs, overseeing his estates, engaging in combat with nothing more dangerous than hand-reared pheasants. His lips curled. No, for a while he would remain in Cornwall amusing himself with the widow. He had ended this night the victor, well revenged for her earlier insults. Tomorrow, he would approach from another quarter. He could afford a little placation, a little softness, and, if conscience reared its ugly head, it could be quietened with the reminder that the widow had begun the game. She would receive only what she had invited. Whistling cheerfully, Lord Rutherford went home to his bed.

Chapter Five
    Meredith was rarely troubled by sleeplessness, but her dreams that night were confused, and she slept later into the morning than was her custom.
    Nan woke her eventually with the reminder