I fancy you! she wanted to scream. Then she was horrified because she hadn't realized until that moment just how much she did fancy him. But beyond this infatuation—and she was loath to call it anything deeper than that—he had struck a chord. She did want children, although she had refused to let herself think about it much up to now. The possibility of her actually finding someone to marry—someone who'd be willing to marry her, she thought dryly—had always been so remote that thinking about children brought only pain. But now—oh, Lord, why was she suddenly picturing children who looked exactly like Dunford? Right down to his warm brown eyes and devastating smile. It was more painful than anything she could imagine because she knew that the adorable imps never would be hers.

"Henry? Henry?"

"What? Oh, I'm sorry. I was just thinking about what you said."

"Don't you agree then? Come to London, if only for just a little while. If you don't like any of the men there, you may return to Cornwall, but at least then you can say you explored all your options."

"I could always marry you," she blurted out. She clapped her hand to her mouth, horrified. Where had that come from?

"Me?" he croaked.

"Well, I mean..." Oh dear, oh dear, how to patch this up? "What I mean is, if I married you, then, um, I wouldn't have to go to London to look for a husband so I would be happy, and you wouldn't have to pay me to oversee Stannage Park so you would be happy, and...um..."

"Me?"

"I can see you're surprised. I'm surprised too. I'm not even sure why I suggested it."

"Henry," he said gently, "I know exactly why you suggested it."

He did? She suddenly felt very warm.

"You don't know very many men," he continued. "You are comfortable with me. I'm a much safer option than going out and meeting gentlemen in London."

That's not it at all! she wanted to yell. But of course she didn't. And of course she didn't tell him the real reason those words had burst forth from her mouth. Better just to let him think she was too scared to leave Stannage Park.

"Marriage is a very big step," he said.

"Not so big," she said, wildly thinking that she'd already half-dug herself into a ditch—why not broaden the hole? "What I mean to say is, there is the marriage bed and all that, and I must admit I have no experience in that direction beyond, well, you know. But I was raised on a farm, after all, and am not entirely ignorant. There are sheep here, and we breed those, and I can't see how it would be so very different and—"

He arched one arrogant brow. "Are you likening me to a sheep?"

"No! Of course not, I..." She paused, swallowed convulsively, then swallowed again. "I..."

"You what, Henry?"

She couldn't tell if his voice was icy cold, shocked into disbelief, or merely heartily amused.

"I... uh..." Oh, Lord, this would have to go down in history as the worst day, no, the worst minute of her life. She was an idiot. A bacon-brain. A fool, fool, fool, fool, fool! "I... uh... I guess maybe I should go to London." But I'm coming back to Cornwall as soon as I can, she silently swore. He wasn't going to tear her from her home.

"Splendid!" He rose, looking supremely pleased with himself. "I'll tell my valet to begin packing immediately. I'll have him take care of your things as well. I don't see any reason to bring anything other than the three dresses we bought last week in Truro, do you?"

She shook her head weakly.

"Right." He crossed to the door. "So just pack up any personal items and knickknacks you might want to bring, and Henry?"

She looked up at him in question.

"We'll just forget about this little conversation, shall we? The last bit that is."

She managed to stretch her lips into a smile, but what she really wanted to do was hurl the brandy decanter at him.

Chapter 10

At ten the following morning Henry was dressed, ready, and waiting on the front steps. She wasn't particularly pleased that she had agreed to go to London with Dunford, but she was damned if she wasn't going to behave with a bit of dignity. If Dunford thought he would have to drag her kicking and screaming from the house, he was mistaken. She had donned her new green dress and matching bonnet, and had even managed to locate an old pair of Viola's gloves. They were a bit worn, but they did the trick, and Henry found that she actually liked the feel of the soft, fine wool on her hands.

The bonnet, however, was another story altogether. It itched her ears, blocked her peripheral vision, and was a general nuisance. It took all of her patience— which, admittedly, wasn't much—not to rip the blasted thing from her head.

Dunford arrived a few minutes later and gave her an approving nod. "You look lovely, Henry."

She smiled her thanks but decided not to put too much stock in his compliment. It sounded like the sort of thing he said automatically to any woman in his vicinity.

"Is that all you have?" he asked.

Henry looked down at her meager valise and nodded. She hadn't even enough to fill a proper trunk. Just her new dresses and some of her well-worn men's clothing. Not that she was likely to need breeches and a jacket in London, but one never could be sure.

"No matter. We'll rectify that soon."

They climbed up into the carriage and were on their way. Henry caught her bonnet on the door frame as she was getting in, a circumstance which caused her to mutter most ungraciously under her breath. Dunford thought he heard her say, "Bloody bleeding blooming bonnet," but he couldn't be certain. Either way, he was going to have to warn her to curb her tongue once they reached London.