He watched her disappearing up the path, and his loins stirred at the memory of her breasts against his hands and the eagerness of her mouth beneath his. Come hell or high water, he intended to have the schooling of his recalcitrant cousin.

He rode back along the beach to where their coats still lay over the rock. It occurred to him that her feelings were as confused as his own. Her responses were always passionate – even when she was damning him up hill and down dale. Indifference would be much harder to overcome, so perhaps the key to victory lay in keeping up the pressure and confusion.

He dismounted and collected their coats. Theo's had something in the pocket – a packet of succulent apple tartlets. Well, she'd abandoned them, he reflected, consuming them with leisurely pleasure before remounting.

As he rode up the manor's driveway, Elinor appeared from the rose garden, a pair of pruning shears in her hand, a basket of yellow and white roses over her arm.

"Lord Stoneridge." She greeted him pleasantly. "How good of you to call."

He doffed his hat and dismounted to walk beside her. "I have Lady Theo's coat and hat to return, ma'am."

Elinor's eyebrows disappeared into her scalp. "I think you'd better explain, sir."

He gave her a disarming smile. "I'm afraid we had a slight… a slight altercation on the beach. My cousin rode off in some haste."

"And what was she doing without her coat and hat in the first place?" Lady Belmont's eyes were sharp, although her tone seemed only mildly curious.

"My cousin challenged me to a bout of unarmed combat, ma'am," he said. This time his smile was rueful.

Elinor sighed. "A challenge you refrained from accepting, I trust."

"In a manner of speaking, ma'am," he said. "My cousin was induced to withdraw the challenge. She's not in charity with me, as a result."

"Oh, it's Edward's fault," Elinor said, shaking her head. "He taught Theo all that nonsense when they were little more than children, and whenever he's here, they practice throwing each other all over the long gallery."

"Edward?"

"Emily's betrothed, Edward Fairfax. His family are neighbors, and the children have known each other from the nursery. For a long time I believed he and Theo would make a match of it, but for some reason they all put their heads together, and the next thing I knew, Edward and Emily were betrothed." She smiled slightly. "I'm convinced it's the right match, but I still don't know what led the three of them to come to that conclusion with such amicable suddenness."

"And where is Mr. Fairfax?"

"Lieutenant Fairfax. He's with Wellington in the Peninsula," she said, casting him a sideways glance. "You were also in the war, sir?"

"Yes… and a prisoner of the French for a twelve-month," he replied shortly.

She merely nodded. "So you dissuaded Theo from this combat, and she's annoyed with you as a result."

"Actually, ma'am, she holds me in acute dislike." He kicked a loose stone out of Lady Belmont's path. "I'm at a loss to understand exactly what I could have done to cause it."

"Evidently you and Theo had met before you called yesterday."

"Yes… an unfortunate encounter," he admitted. A deep frown corrugated his brow.

Elinor glanced up at him as he walked beside her, adapting his natural impatient stride to her own strolling pace. It wasn't easy for him, she reflected, sensing again that pent-up tension in the lean, powerful frame, the depths of pain within him. She couldn't decide whether she liked him or not, but thought that she probably did… or at least would, on further acquaintance. She was very aware of his attraction, however, and wondered how Theo was managing to ignore it.

"You should understand something about Theo," she said matter-of-factly. "This house, the estate, the people are a part of her. It was the same for her father, and her grandfather. They mean everything to her, in a way that her sisters… and indeed, myself… can't begin to identify with. She was her grandfather's favorite. And she feels betrayed by him. You, sir, are an interloper. You're taking from her something as important as the blood that flows in her veins."

Sylvester was silent, listening to the voice of conscience. Supposing he told this woman the truth… that none of them had been betrayed by the old earl – at least, not in the way they thought. But why should he, at the expense of his own future, put right the old man's memory? He owed him nothing. The devious old man had created this mess… he'd set them all up.

"But I'm willing to change that, Lady Belmont," he said after a minute. "I'm offering your daughter the chance to stay here, to see this inheritance pass down to her own children."

"Yes, and it seems the perfect answer," Elinor said, pausing to clip an unruly twig of box hedge with her secateurs. "But Theo may not see that just yet."

And I don't have all the time in the world to persuade her. He suppressed the irritable reflection and adjusted his stock, his long fingers restless in the linen folds as he asked abruptly, "Will you speak for me, ma'am?"

Elinor paused on the path, regarding him steadily from beneath the wide brim of her straw gardening hat. Her voice was level but very definite. "No, Stoneridge. You must speak for yourself."

He made haste to retrieve his error. "I understand. Forgive the impertinence." He bowed, touching his hat, his eyes rueful.

She did like him, Elinor decided. And those crinkly lines around his eyes were most attractive. She smiled and patted his arm. "I don't blame you in the least, sir. When it comes to Theo, a wise man marshals all the battalions he can."

"Then perhaps I should start marshaling," he commented dryly.

Elinor followed his eyes. Theo and Rosie were coming down the path toward them, their eyes on the ground. The child suddenly darted forward, falling to her knees in the flower bed beneath the box hedge. Theo squatted beside her.

"Not more worms," Elinor sighed. "Or is it snails now? I can never keep up with Rosie's obsessions."

Theo stood up, glancing down the path, seeming to see them for the first time. Sylvester wondered if she'd give him the cut direct and walk away, but, perhaps in deference to her mother's presence, she walked toward them.

She'd changed out of her habit into a simple linen gown, less rustic than the unbleached holland smock she'd been wearing for trout tickling, but still very countrified with its plain scoop neck and elbow-length sleeves. She was hatless, and her hair hung in one thick blue-black rope down her back. He watched her approach, the way the gown moved over her hips with the easy swing of her stride.

"Dear me, Lord Stoneridge, this is an unexpected pleasure," she said, reaching them, her eyes the deep velvet blue of pansies in her sun-browned face. "I confess I wasn't expecting to see you again today."

"You left your coat and hat on the beach," he said, handing her the garments. "I thought you might have need of them… or at least your coat," he added pointedly. "But I see you've rectified the situation."

He had intended conciliation, but her greeting had been so derisory that he responded with immediate punishment, reminding her of those moments on the back of his horse… of her passionate response to the most improper attentions. His eyes skimmed pointedly over her breast, and the slight flush that warmed her cheeks was satisfaction enough. But her recovery was swift.

"I have no particular need of the coat, my lord. But I'm grateful for what's in the pocket." She held up the garment. "Rosie, I have some of Mrs. Woods's apple tartlets for you."

"Oh," Sylvester said in confusion. "I'm afraid I ate them."

"You ate them?" Theo stared at him in surprise. "But they were in my pocket. They were for Rosie."

Sylvester scratched his head, looking so confounded that Elinor was hard-pressed to keep a straight face. "I do beg your pardon," he said. "But they were so tempting… and I thought you'd abandoned them." He looked at Rosie, who was gazing up at him from behind her glasses with an expression of puzzled inquiry.