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He waved away the decanter. "I must go on to the links, where it is imperative to keep a clear head.

" He pushed his chair back from the table.

"In fact, if you will excuse me, I must take my leave now or risk being late for the appointed meeting with my caddie.

" He cleared his throat. "And that august personage is, I assure you, not someone whose ire I wish to incur. "

The baron gave a knowing nod. "Quite right. A good, seasoned man can be a queer fellow, as temperamental as the worst French chef. Why, I had a ghilly on our trout stream?—"

"Good day, sir." Adrian inclined a frosty bow in Lady Hylton's direction. "Ma’am. And to you, too, Honoria," he murmured. "I believe you are also invited to dine at Laird Humphrey's tonight?"

"Yes." She finally looked up, but her expression was so shuttered Adrian was hard-pressed to make out exactly what she was thinking.

"And apparently there is an outing arranged for the day after tomorrow in order to view the ruins of an abbey up the coast, and a picnic as well.

I... I trust you and Mr. Greeley will be able to come along, even though it may conflict with your lessons. "

"I imagine I can spare an afternoon. And I'm sure Rafe will be delighted to be part of the group."

She made an appropriate response and he took his leave.

The gusty salt breeze was like a breath of fresh air, and despite its damp edge, it felt decidedly less chilly than the atmosphere of the baron's dining room.

Adrian tugged at his cravat as he hurried his steps.

Lord, was he in danger of putting a noose round his neck as well as a ring on his finger?

What had, just a short time ago, appeared as a desirable match now seemed. ..

All of that didn't matter, he reminded himself with a slight clenching of his jaw. The proposal had been made, and that was that. He would simply have to learn to live with it. After all, he had learned to survive a good deal worse than mere shallowness.

It was fortunate that his caddie's thoughts also appeared to be elsewhere throughout the afternoon, for Adrian had a difficult time concentrating on the task at hand.

After a number of desultory drives, in which he at least contrived to keep the ball in the vicinity of the fairway, they moved on to a bunker in order to practice getting the ball out of the heavy sand.

After a few pointers from the lad, he spent a good part of an hour whacking at the small leather orb, sending up a spray of sand —and occasionally the ball— with each swing.

However unsuccessful many of the flailing attempts were, Adrian found it a very satisfactory way to vent his pent-up frustrations.

Even Master Derry, with an uncharacteristic show of restraint, refrained from more than one or two barbed criticisms and allowed him to hack away in undisturbed silence.

By the time a spitting rain caused them to curtail their efforts for the day, he found his spirits had revived enough that not even the prospect of another meal with Honoria and her parents could dampen his mood.

It wasn’t until he turned up the collar of his coat and started to make his way to his lodgings that he realized his thoughts had not been on the coming evening at all.

Rather they had strayed to the engagement of the following morning.

His brow furrowed.

How was it that the idea of squabbling in the dirt with a sharp-tongued little hellion was bringing a smile to his lips? Inexplicable as it was, he found himself looking forward to the tete-a-tete.

"I see you are punctual, milord."

The last of the morning’s mist was blowing away as Adrian turned from his perusal of the garden gate's intricate design and gave a slight bow.

"I wish to exhibit some redeeming qualities, Miss Edwards," he murmured, offering her his arm.

"After all, I have been made all too aware of my numerous shortcomings. "

There was a fraction of a pause before Derrien accepted it. "You are teasing me, milord."

"Just a little," he admitted. His mouth crooked into a slight smile as he slipped a hand into his coat pocket. "But perhaps we might cease our brangling long enough for you to have a look at this." He withdrew a slim leatherbound volume and held it out to her.

Her gaze flew to the gold-tooled title. "Pinnell's plans for the Duke of Devonshire!" she cried. "I thought they hadn't yet been released.”

"Just published in London," he murmured. "I thought you might be interested in taking a look at them." His lips twitched. "Perhaps not quite as unorthodox as Chitley, but fascinating nonetheless."

"Oh, how very kind of you, sir!" She lifted her eyes to meet his and the viscount was surprised by what the sight of such an intense color of blue did to his pulse.

Ha! Bloodless, indeed, he thought, feeling a fizz course through his veins.

"I can't thank you enough. I have been looking forward to seeing these particular drawings for an age." She took the proffered book and ran a gloved finger along its spine with something akin to reverence. "I promise I shall return it quickly."

The wistful note in her voice was not lost on the viscount. "You may keep it. I have another copy."

"I... that is, you..."

"Is this the place?" He interrupted her stammerings by drawing to a halt by an imposing set of oak doors set in a stone arch.

"Yes, but?—"

Adrian smiled at how her expression so clearly betrayed the warring of pride versus longing. "Put the book in your reticule, Miss Edwards. I give you permission to continue to cut up at me with that sharp tongue of yours without having to feel any guilt, if that is what's worrying you."

Her mouth opened, but before she could speak, he took a step toward the gate. "Might we enter now? I'm afraid I have a limited amount of time and you've quite piqued my curiosity. I wouldn't want to miss anything."

Without further argument, Derrien slipped the book into her bag and put her shoulder to the weathered wood. The doors swung open, revealing a large expanse of clipped grass, in the center of which sat a massive pagoda, towering nearly ninety feet tall.

Adrian stared at it in mute amazement for several moments, then his eyes strayed off to one side where a strange construction of wooden posts, rods and thick hemp ropes appeared to be spinning in a slow concentric circle within a small pond.

"A water driven contrivance," she explained.

He merely nodded, then glanced in the other direction, where several large statues dominated a formal bed of multi-colored roses.

Suddenly, his shoulders began to shake, and a low rumble sounded in his throat.

In another moment, he couldn’t contain his laughter any longer.

Its rich baritone sound echoed loudly off the weathered stone of the massive retaining wall.

"Good Lord," he said when he finally managed to speak. "It's truly, truly..."

"Hideous?" she suggested, unable to suppress a grin.

"I am in awe." They stepped inside and pulled the gate shut. "Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed such a creation possible."

Derrien giggled. "Actually, sir, there are some sections which are rather nice."

His brows shot up. "Lead the way."

As they strolled along the winding path, their conversation quite naturally turned to a discussion on the principles of garden design.

Adrian knew she had some acquaintance with the subject from their brief encounter of the day before, but still, he was surprised by the breadth of her knowledge and the keenness of her insight.

Why, even with a number of men who accorded themselves to be experts in the field, he hadn't enjoyed such a stimulating exchange of ideas. Not only did Miss Edwards grasp a number of complex concepts but she appeared to have a distinct vision of her own as to what made a good design.

He found himself wondering what she would think of his preliminary plans for his new commission.

It was deucedly frustrating at times, for he was not able to show them to his peers for fear of revealing his secret.

Rafe was supportive, but hadn't a clue as far as aesthetics were concerned.

And Honoria didn't know a dahlia from a begonia.

"...the perspective created by the row of espaliered pear trees, don't you think?"

"Er—"

Derrien laughed, though not unkindly. "Just as I suspected, sir. You haven't heard a word I have been saying, have you?"

"Sorry. I fear my mind wandered for a moment."

She cocked her head. "Somewhere interesting, judging by your expression." Her inflection made it more of a question than a statement.

He stopped to inspect an unusual type of geranium. "Tell me," he said while bent over the variegated leaves. "What do you think of that latest essay from Knight?"

A sigh escaped Derrien's lips. "I'm afraid it has not yet made its way north, though I have read in the journals that it has stirred up a good deal of debate."

"I happen to have that particular work in my possession as well. Are you one of the party making up the excursion to the ruins on the morrow?"

She nodded slowly.

"Then I shall bring it along and let you decide on its merits. However, I must warn you it is merely a loan since I haven't yet finished it myself."

Another sigh sounded. "You are fortunate to have access to such marvelous things. At times I feel so isolated up here. Why, I don't even know whether Chitley has published any writings." She slanted a hopeful look at him. "Has he? I would so like to read anything he has to say."

"Well, no. But I believe a volume is planned for the end of the year."

"Then I suppose I shall have to be content with waiting for that."

Adrian knew he should keep his mouth shut, but he simply couldn't resist the expression of longing on her face. "I shall make sure he sends you a copy as soon as it is printed. He is, er, an acquaintance."