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‘D on’t you look ravishing?’ Mr Hargreaves used the fact that Thea’s hands were occupied to run his fingers over her sleeve. The brief, bold touch did not make her skin tingle as Gray’s had done, nor did it elicit any of the peculiar, needy feeling his had either. As usual, the unsolicited flirtations of her unwelcome and determined would-be suitor made her cringe. ‘Once this game is done, I would be delighted to take you on a turn around the garden.’ He had glued himself to her side at the start of the croquet match, intent on charming her—or so he claimed—and had succeeded in being a thorough pest for the duration.

‘I am quite familiar with my own garden, Mr Hargreaves. And if you don’t mind me saying, you are becoming quite over-familiar with my person.’ She glared at the spot just below her elbow where his hand remained. ‘Kindly keep your hands to yourself.’

‘How long are you going to play the coquette, Thea? I’ve made my intentions quite clear. I hold you in the highest affection. Real, genuine, heartfelt affection.’ He gave her a heated look which was nowhere near as incendiary as the ones he frequently gave her aunt when he thought nobody was watching. ‘I am desirous of a proper courtship, not this flirtatious toing and froing, and while I enjoy the chase—’ his hand had found its way to the small of her back ‘—I am ready to offer you my heart.’

Heart! As if he had one! Insufferable man! He had a very warped view of things if he assumed her increasing hostility was flirting. She shrugged off his distasteful touch and stomped forward, letting her disgusted expression convey how abhorrent she found him. And he had the bare-faced nerve to call her a coquette . Unbelievable. ‘I have a mallet, Mr Hargreaves, one I am not averse to using.’ To prove that, she lined it up in front of the ball, imagined it was his thick head and gave it a spirited whack. It rolled through the hoop, knocking his ball sideways in the process. ‘Oh, dear! It will take you a few turns to recover, I’m afraid.’

By which time Thea fully intended to be done with the silly game and striding purposefully back towards the house. She had had about as much of her aunt’s friends today as she could tolerate. Thanks to Aunt Caro, the lawn was currently stuffed with the dullest and most sycophantic individuals in Suffolk. Her uncle had pleaded fatigue long before the interminable, impromptu garden party had started and Harriet had miraculously disappeared to the retiring room a few minutes after Colonel Purbeck and his surfeit of flying spit had arrived and was yet to reappear. Knowing Harriet, she was likely to already be in her own parlour, sipping tea and congratulating herself on her hasty exit.

If Thea whipped around this course speedily, she could escape for a full hour before the next round of afternoon tea was served. Aside from the fact that the heat was making her rebellious hair twirl vertical and her pale skin glow beetroot in places, an illicit, quiet, hour reading was suddenly very appealing. Although, in truth, an hour watching paint dry would be more appealing than spending another minute in the company of Mr Hargreaves. The vulture was making a great show of examining his stray ball from every angle as he lined up his shot. Then he hit it with such precision, it rolled softly next to hers.

‘You cannot get rid of me that easily, dearest Thea. I came here today with the express intention of talking to you about our future and I will not be deterred from that.’

‘It’s Miss Cranford to you. I never have and never will give you leave to call me by my first name, Mr Hargreaves.’ Sudden awareness of another vexing male cut through her irritation and, of its own accord, her head turned in time to see him stride on to the lawn looking his usual rugged, confident and handsome self. As if realising she was watching him, Gray turned and their eyes locked. He paused mid-step, seemed to take a deep breath, then inclined his head politely in accordance with their declared truce, before striding on towards the hostess with his cousin.

It had been a brief and altogether mundane exchange, exactly as he had promised, yet just that had the most unnerving effect on her body. Her pulse had quickened. Her nerve-endings had suddenly jumped to attention and her skin heated further, although this new warmth had nothing whatsoever to do with the glorious weather and everything to do with the disgraceful scoundrel who had kissed her senseless in this same garden only a week ago and thoroughly charmed her yesterday with his confession. Where she should be relieved he had no intentions of either seducing her or wooing her, Thea couldn’t seem to feel anything other than intense disappointment at the prospect.

And more curious about the wretch than she had ever been. Who was the woman who had broken his heart? He must have loved her very deeply for the rejection to have such a lasting effect. Strangely, that made her envious. To have such a handsome, entertaining and exciting man head over heels for you must be the most wonderful feeling. One she hoped she would experience, but sincerely doubted she ever would. The burden of her fortune had made the plight of true love nigh on impossible, when most men desired great wealth far more than they desired true love.

Apart from Gray. He seemed to be genuinely sympathetic to her situation, almost as if he had first-hand knowledge of exactly how money brought out the worst in people. Another thing she had pondered over incessantly since yesterday. What had happened in his past to shape him? How irreparably had his heart been broken? Did he really mean never to attempt to kiss her again when, by his own admission, he thought her the single most beautiful woman he had ever seen? Her heart had done a little sigh at that heady compliment, because she had seen the truth of it swirling in his unusual, expressive eyes. Instead of wanting to adhere to the terms of the truce, she now had so many burning questions and desperately wanted to learn more. He had become a conundrum. An intriguing, alluring, attractive conundrum...

‘It is your turn.’ Mr Hargreaves’s grating voice dragged her guiltily back to the present.

‘I concede. I have a headache.’ Thea tossed her mallet aside and rudely headed in the direction of the kitchen, purely because the kitchen was situated at the opposite end of the lawn to Lord Gray. Perhaps he would stop occupying so much of her brain if she couldn’t see him.

‘Then allow me to escort you back.’

‘No, thank you.’

‘I insist.’ His fingers touched her elbow and she tugged it away as if burned. ‘For I suspect this sudden headache has more to do with your reluctance to discuss the next steps of our relationship...’ Thea had had enough.

‘Are you quite stupid, Mr Hargreaves? Or is your desire to acquire my fortune so strong you will stop at nothing to get it?’ Gray was right. Who knew complete honesty would feel so cathartic? ‘Let me say it plainly, for the record and to avoid any more misunderstanding henceforth, I claimed a headache because I have no desire to entertain you—as a potential suitor or even a croquet partner, Mr Hargreaves. Kindly leave me alone. Preferably indefinitely.’

Thea marched across the lawn feeling pleased with herself. For once, she had allowed Impetuous Thea to take over because she had known Impetuous Thea wouldn’t mince her words. She sincerely hoped the thick-skinned cretin would finally get the message, but no sooner had she rounded the tall, clipped topiary hedge that hid the kitchen and outbuildings from the house than her unwanted companion grabbed her elbow again and spun her towards him. ‘I am in love with you, Thea!’

‘Really? Does my aunt know? For I am quite certain she will not be impressed to learn that her lover’s heart is engaged elsewhere.’ Clearly, Impetuous Thea was not done.

‘I don’t know what you mean!’ The outrage was constructed. Too constructed and for once she wanted to call a spade a spade and let the rebellious part of her do what the sensible, polite side of her never had.

‘I know , Mr Hargreaves. I have known from the outset. Is it not bad enough that you have made my uncle a cuckold, but that now you intend to hurt my poor aunt as well?’ Caro was a broken, barren bird trapped in a loveless marriage to a man who loathed her. A woman whose entire sense of self-worth was inextricably attached to her own waning attractiveness. With every new wrinkle, Thea watched a little piece of her aunt die. ‘Your rejection will devastate her.’

She watched, fascinated, as he digested this. For a moment, she was convinced he was going to attempt to perpetuate the lie and deny the affair. But he surprised her.

‘The heart wants what the heart wants. I do not love her. If you give me a single grain of hope, Thea, then I shall end things with her today.’ His fingers closed painfully around her upper arm and refused to budge as she tugged. ‘This very moment... It’s you I want. It is you I have always wanted!’

‘It looks as if I’ve arrived just in time.’ Seeing as the nauseating Mr Hargreaves appeared about to thrust his unwanted attentions on to her and Thea was poised to knee the fellow hard in the unmentionables, Gray thought it was prudent to emerge from the shrubbery. Not because the fellow didn’t deserve a swift kick in the jewels, because he did, and not because he didn’t think Thea could stand up for herself either. She was more than capable if the acid-tongued stream of comments coming out of her tart mouth were anything to go by, but Gray had stepped in simply because he couldn’t bear the thought of her being manhandled by that scoundrel—or any other—under any circumstances.

He was going to determinedly think of his rescue as merely the noble act of a gentleman and steadfastly ignore the surging possessive anger which had made him follow the pair of them in the first place, despite promising himself, and her, he would maintain a polite distance and ration all contact with her going forward. Regardless of their wholly necessary truce, those powerful strings had pulled him once again and now here he was. And he was glad of it.

The jealous anger was still churning inside his gut, now combined with vengeful fury that she had been accosted. He hid both behind a bland, cold expression. Inside, he wanted to kill Hargreaves. Tear the blighter limb from limb. Pummel his deceitful, conniving, vile face with his fist until it was nought but a bloody smudge at the end of his arm.

‘Lord Gray!’ It was obvious she was relieved to see him, although in view of what he had just witnessed, she would doubtless have been equally as thrilled to see anyone, truce or not. ‘Yes—timely, indeed. I am exceedingly glad to see you.’

‘I am sure you are. Allow me to escort you back to the safety of the lawn.’ He held out his arm as he glared at the brute and felt a fresh surge of possessiveness as she gratefully took it. He’d deal with Hargreaves later. That snake would never dare bother her again.

‘Thea has a headache. I was merely escorting her back to lie down.’

As Gray locked his free palm securely over hers in the crook of his elbow, his eyes narrowed at the liar menacingly. ‘I’m certain the only pain she was suffering was you, Hargreaves.’ The idiot had the cheek to look affronted, which gave Gray the perfect excuse to indulge his roiling temper. ‘Touch her again and I’ll break your nose.’ Along with both arms and legs.

‘How dare you threaten—’ Hargreaves didn’t get to finish the sentence. Like a cobra, Gray’s fist grabbed him by the cravat.

‘How dare you manhandle a lady!’ He lifted the other man so that he had to stagger backwards on tiptoe as he pushed him against the wall. ‘How dare you ignore her rebuttals! When a lady says no, that means no ! She is entirely correct in her assessment of you. You are a fortune-hunting weasel. A deceitful, conniving, self-serving vulture.’ He twisted the frothy knot tighter, enjoying the way the toad’s eyes bulged beneath the pressure. ‘Apologise... Apologise for being...!’

‘I’m sorry, Thea...’

‘You do not deserve to call her by her first name!’

‘I’m sorry, M-M-Miss Cranford!’

‘Swear you will never come within ten feet of her again!’

‘I s-s-swear it! Please let me go!’

‘Are you satisfied with his apology, Thea?’ He turned to her and felt some of his anger dissipate, almost as if he could hear her thoughts telling him that the idiot wasn’t worth the effort.

‘It will do.’

Hargreaves coughed and spluttered as Gray dropped him—‘Get out of my sight!’—then ran like the pathetic excuse for a man he was towards the gardens.

‘Thank you.’ He felt her hand against his arm. That single, gentle touch shouldn’t have felt so significant, yet it did. Slowly, he turned to face her and she was smiling. ‘Although a part of me is annoyed I didn’t get to finish what I started. I was going to kick him.’

‘I know. I saw. Perhaps I saved him, too?’

‘Would you really have broken his nose?’

‘Into a million pieces. Then I’d have put all those pieces in a pestle and mortar and ground them to paste.’ He had meant to be ironic, but to his own ears the reply was too forceful. ‘The man is a menace.’

‘The man is a pest. Calling him a menace gives him far more credit than he deserves and I am used to rebuffing unwanted advances from men of his ilk. Although granted, he is perhaps the most nauseating one so far.’

‘You shouldn’t have to put up with nonsense like that.’

‘What? Men shamelessly flirting with me? At least he didn’t kiss me.’ The dig stung and she saw it, then smiled kindly. ‘A poorly timed and unfair joke, Gray. I realise I had a significant hand in that kiss, too, and likening you to the irksome Mr Hargreaves is unfair. The man makes my flesh crawl.’ Did that mean he didn’t? Probably best not to pursue that line of conversation, especially as he could still feel the warmth of her hand on his arm through several layers of clothing and all over his body.

‘You should tell your uncle what he did. He’ll put a stop to him ever setting foot here again—regardless of what your aunt wants.’

‘You heard everything again, didn’t you?’ Her expression was pained.

‘Yes. But I had worked it out for myself well beforehand. It doesn’t take a genius to see what is plainer than the annoyingly intact nose on Hargreaves’s face.’

Her hand slipped from his sleeve and she sighed. ‘I had hoped it wasn’t common knowledge.’

‘It isn’t. Perhaps I am a little more perceptive than most guests.’

‘Or more likely, they are all far too polite to gossip about us within earshot.’

‘You can trust me to keep your counsel. I’m good at keeping secrets.’ Never a truer word was spoken and once again his mission and his conscience were misaligned. ‘Does your uncle know of his wife’s infidelities?’

Her gaze flicked to his briefly and she shook her head, bemused. ‘Indeed, you are perceptive. For I am sure there has been more than Mr Hargreaves. He is just one of a line spanning many years. But to answer your question, who knows? Like our guests, I have always been too polite to ask my uncle or confront my aunt. My uncle never utters her name in my presence unless he has imbibed too much after dinner. Then he calls her a cold, callous, self-serving and unfeeling witch. He hates her, when he never hates anyone, and I have no idea why. But it is deep-rooted and heartfelt. And if my aunt mentions him, it is also to criticise. Theirs is an odd relationship. One I am not entirely sure I understand, but alas there is fault on both sides so I try not to judge. He despises her and treats her with disdain; she disrespects her vows and fills her life with people who treat her better than he does. Yet neither seems inclined to separate as so many other unhappy couples do all the time. Uncle Edward cannot bear the sight of Caro and has more than enough money to set her up in her own household—but doesn’t. Nor, to my knowledge, has she ever asked him to. I have never understood what exactly it is that holds them together—but I’ve never really thought it’s my place to say.’

‘Marriage can be a fraught institution.’ His close brush with it had been—well, before it had even started. ‘Whether the couple marry for love or for other reasons.’

‘Is this another of our casual, platonic conversations, Gray?’ The wry smile was mischievous. ‘Only it feels a tad too personal for two people who are actively avoiding each other. At least I was avoiding you—as per the terms of our agreement, of course.’

‘I was avoiding you, too, until that buffoon followed you across the lawn. Then my ingrained, long-forgotten gentlemanly manners kicked in and I came to rescue you. Now that I am assured you are safe from further inconvenience, as per the terms of our agreement, I shall bid you good day, Miss Cranford.’