"What are you going to do with him?"

"Put him back in the kitchen where he belongs."

"I should think he belongs outside. Or in the stew pot."

"Dunford, he's my pet!" She looked stricken.

"Loves pigs and rabbits," he muttered. "A kind-hearted lass."

They marched back to the kitchen in silence, the only sound being Rufus's growl when Dunford tried to pet him.

"Can a rabbit growl?" he asked, unable to believe his ears.

"Obviously he can."

When they reached the kitchen, Henry deposited her furry bundle on the floor. "Simpy, would you give me a carrot for Rufus?"

"Did that little imp escape again? He must have slipped out when the door was open." The housekeeper picked up a carrot from a pile of root vegetables and dangled it in front of the rabbit. He sank his teeth into it and pulled it out of her hand. Dunford watched with interest as Rufus gnawed the carrot into nothingness.

"I'm really very sorry about your papers," Henry said, aware she had apologized more that day than she had in the past year.

"So am I," he said absentmindedly, "but I can always write a note to Leverett and have him send out another copy. Another week or so won't hurt."

"Are you certain? I shouldn't want to ruin any of your plans."

He sighed, wondering how his life had been turned upside down by this woman in less than forty-eight hours. Correction: by this woman, a pig, and a rabbit.

He assured Henry that the destroyed papers were not a permanent setback and then took his leave of her, returning to his rooms to read over some documents he'd brought with him and to sneak some much needed rest. Even though he and Henry had reached a truce, he was still somehow loath to admit to her that she had exhausted him. It somehow made him feel like less of a man.

He would have felt much better had he known that Henry had retired to her room for the exact same reason.

Later that night Dunford was reading in bed when it suddenly occurred to him that it was going to be another week before he found out exactly how Carlyle had provided for Henry in his will. That was really the only reason he'd been eager to read the document. Although Henry had insisted that Carlyle had not bothered with her, Dunford found that hard to believe. At the very least Carlyle would have had to appoint a guardian for her, wouldn't he? After all, Henry was only twenty.

She was an amazing woman, his Henry. One had to admire her single-minded determination. Yet for all her capability, he still felt an odd sort of responsibility for her. Perhaps it had been the wobble in her voice when she had apologized for her schemes to oust him from Stannage Park. Or the sheer agony in her eyes when she had admitted she had no place else to go.

Whatever the case, he wanted to make certain she had a secure place in the world.

But before he could do that, he had to see how Carlyle had provided for her in his will, if at all. Another week wouldn't make much of a difference, would it? He shrugged and turned his attention back to his book. He read for several minutes until his concentration was interrupted by a noise on the carpet.

He looked up but saw nothing. Dismissing it as the creaking of an old house, he started reading again.

Patter, patter, patter. There it was again.

This time when Dunford looked up, he saw a pair of long, black ears poke up over the edge of the bed. "Oh, for God's sake," he groaned. "Rufus."

As if on cue, the rabbit vaulted up onto the bed, landing squarely on top of the book. He looked up at Dunford, his little pink nose twitching up and down.

"What do you want, bunny?"

Rufus quirked an ear and leaned forward as if to say, "Pet me."

Dunford placed his hand between the rabbit's ears and began to scratch. With a sigh, he said, "This certainly isn't London."

Then, as the rabbit rested its head against his chest, he realized with surprise that he didn't want to be in London.

In fact, he didn't want to be anywhere but here.

Chapter 6

Henry spent the next few days introducing Dunford to Stannage Park. He wanted to learn every last detail about his new property, and she liked nothing better than to expound upon the many excellent qualities of the estate. While they toured the house and surrounding lands, they chatted about this and that, sometimes about nothing in particular, sometimes about the great mysteries of life. For Henry, Dunford was the first person who ever had wanted to spend this kind of time with her. He was interested in what she had to say, not only about estate matters, but also about philosophy, religion, and just plain life in general. Even more flattering was the fact that he seemed to care about her opinion of him. He tried to look offended when she didn't laugh at his jokes, rolled his eyes when he didn't laugh at hers, and elbowed her in the ribs when neither of them could summon up the mirth to laugh at someone else's.

In short, he became her friend. And if her stomach did strange things every time he smiled...Well, she could learn to live with that. She supposed he had that effect on all women.

It didn't occur to Henry that these were the happiest few days of her life, although if she had taken the time to think about it, she would have realized that was exactly what they were.

Dunford was equally taken with his companion. Henry's love for Stannage Park was infectious, and he found himself not just interested in but actually caring about the details of the estate and its people. When one of the tenants safely gave birth to her first child, it had been his idea to bring by a basket of food so she wouldn't have to tax herself with cooking for the next week. And he surprised even himself when he stopped by the newly constructed pigpen to slip a raspberry tart to Porkus. The pig did seem to have a sweet tooth, he rationalized, and for all his size he was actually kind of cute.