Taking very slow steps to allow herself time to compose a plan, she walked down the hall to his room. She lifted up her hand to knock on the door and then paused. The servants never knocked before entering rooms. Should she just enter? She was, after all, performing a servant's task.

But she was not a servant.

And for all she knew, he could be naked as the day he was born.

She knocked.

There was a slight pause, then she heard his voice. "Enter."

Henry opened the door just a touch and slid her head around the corner. "Hello, Mr. Dunford."

"Just Dunford," he said automatically before doing a double take, tightening his robe around his body, and saying, "Is there any particular reason you are in my chamber?"

Henry summoned up her courage and entered the room fully, her eyes briefly flickering over his valet, who was preparing a shaving lather in the corner. She returned her gaze to Dunford, who, she noted, looked awfully good in his robe. He had very nice ankles. She'd seen ankles before; she'd even seen legs. This was a farm, after all. But his were very, very nice.

"Henry," he barked.

"Oh, yes." She straightened. "You rang."

He cocked an eyebrow. "When did you start answering the bell? I rather thought you were in a position to pull it yourself."

"Oh, I am. Of course I am. I just wanted to make certain you are comfortable. It has been ever so long since we've had a guest here at Stannage Park."

"Especially one who owns the place," he said dryly.

"Well, yes. Of course. I shouldn't want you to think we're lacking in any way. So I thought I'd see to your needs myself."

He smiled. "How intriguing. It has been quite some time since I have been bathed by a woman."

Henry gulped and took a reflexive step back. "I beg your pardon."

His face was all innocence. "I rang to ask the maid to draw me a bath."

"But I thought you bathed yesterday," she said, trying very hard not to smile. Oh, the man was not as clever as he thought. He couldn't have given her a better opportunity if he'd tried.

"This time I'm afraid it will have to be I who begs your pardon."

"Water is at a premium, you know," she said earnestly. "We need it for the animals. They need some to drink, and now that the weather is growing warmer, we have to make certain we have enough to cool them down."

He didn't say anything.

"We certainly do not have enough to bathe every day," Henry continued blithely, getting into the spirit of her ruse.

Dunford's mouth tightened. "As evidenced by your lovely fragrance yesterday."

Henry swallowed down the urge to ball her hand into a fist and pop him one. "Exactly." She looked over at Dunford's valet, who appeared to be having palpitations at the thought of his employer so disheveled.

"I can assure you," Dunford was saying, humor not at all evident in his voice, "that I have no intention of allowing my person to smell like a pigsty during my visit to Cornwall."

"I'm sure it won't come to that," Henry replied. "Yesterday was a bit of an exceptional case. I was, after all, constructing a pigpen. I assure you that we allow extra baths after work in the pigpen."

"How positively hygienic of you."

Henry did not miss the sarcasm in his voice. Indeed, the veriest dullard would have found it difficult to miss. "Right. So tomorrow, of course, you will be able to bathe."

"Tomorrow?"

"When we get back to work on the pigpen. Today is Sunday. Even we don't perform such demanding chores on Sunday."

Dunford had to work very hard not to let another acidic comment pass through his lips. It looked as if the chit were enjoying herself. Enjoying his distress, to be precise. He narrowed his eyes and regarded her a little more closely. She blinked and looked at him with an expression of pure earnestness.

Maybe she wasn't enjoying his distress. Maybe they didn't have enough water to bathe every day. He had never before heard of such a problem in a well-run household, but maybe Cornwall received less rain than the rest of England.

Hold on just a second, his brain screamed. This was England. It always rained. Everywhere. He leveled a suspicious look in her direction.

She smiled.

He chose his words slowly and carefully. "How often may I expect to bathe while in residence, Henry?"

"Certainly once a week."

"Once a week will not be adequate," he replied, his voice deliberately even. He saw her falter. Good.

"I see." She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. "I suppose this is your house, so I suppose if you want to bathe with greater frequency, it is your right to do so."

He suppressed the urge to say, "It damn well is."

She sighed. It was a great, big heartfelt sigh. The annoying chit sounded as if the weight of three worlds were on her shoulders. "I shouldn't want to take water away from the animals," she said. "It is growing warmer, you know, and—"

"Yes, I know. The animals need to stay cool."

"Right. They do. A sow died last year from heat exhaustion. I shouldn't like that to happen again, so I suppose if you want to bathe more frequently..."

She paused, quite dramatically, and Dunford wasn't certain he wanted to know what was coming next.

"... well, I suppose I could cut down on my baths."

Dunford recollected her rather distinct scent when they met. "No, Henry," he said quickly, "I certainly shouldn't want you to do that. A lady should...that is to say—"

"I know, I know. You're a gentleman down to your very toes. You don't want to deprive a lady. But I can assure you, I am no ordinary lady."