But Ms Brewster had not come alone. “Good morning, Harriet,” Charlotte said briskly. “Apropos of our discussion, I’ve brought a possible client for your new venture. James Crawford—meet my accountant, Harriet Wilde.”

Harriet got to her feet, feeling as though all the air had been sucked out of her office, as James, elegant in a dark City suit, strolled in and dominated it. After all the years of fantasising over a meeting here he was at last in the flesh: harder, older and colder, with little resemblance to the man she’d fallen in love with.

“Miss Wilde and I have already met,” he informed Charlotte, the deep voice striking a chord so familiar Harriet’s pulse went into overdrive as he held out his hand. He gave her a hard, bright look. “But it was so long ago you’ve probably forgotten.”

“Of course not.” She shook the hand, and felt a streak of heat along her veins at the contact.

Dear Reader

My life as a Jane Austen fan began when I was fourteen. Although a mere junior I won a role in the school production of Pride and Prejudice as the nasty Miss Bingley, decked out in a black velvet dress with my hair in ringlets.

I went on to read Emma and Mansfield Park in school, but I finally met up with Persuasion many years later when I was living in Brazil. I was confined to bed with a virus in the hottest part of the year, and was delighted when one of my husband’s colleagues lent me selections from his library of classic literature, which included Dickens, the Brontes, Thomas Hardy and, most important of all, a large tome entitled Jane Austen, The Works. I devoured this from cover to cover, ending up with Persuasion, which was, and still is, my favourite of all Jane Austen’s novels.

It was a challenge to achieve a modern romance based on the theme of Persuasion, with its codes of behaviour from a bygone age, but I hope you enjoy the final result as much as I enjoyed writing A Wicked Persuasion.

Love and best wishes,

Catherine

About the Author

CATHERINE GEORGE was born in Wales, and early on developed a passion for reading which eventually fuelled her compulsion to write. Marriage to an engineer led to nine years in Brazil, but on his later travels the education of her son and daughter kept her in the UK. And, instead of constant reading to pass her lonely evenings, she began to write the first of her romantic novels. When not writing and reading, she loves to cook, listen to opera, and browse in antiques shops.

Recent titles by the same author:

UNDER THE BRAZILIAN SUN

THE POWER OF THE LEGENDARY GREEK

(Greek Tycoons) THE MISTRESS OF HIS MANOR THE ITALIAN COUNT’S DEFIANT BRIDE (International Billionaires)

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

A Wicked
Persuasion
Catherine George

www.millsandboon.co.uk

With thanks to the immortal Jane

CHAPTER ONE

NOT a single thing had changed in the cobbled streets around the medieval market hall since the stormy day he’d driven away like a bat out of hell, swearing never to set foot in the place again. Ten years on, the steep roofs and stone mullions typical of local architecture glowed in the sun as he left the town centre for Broad Street to walk past graceful old buildings, the private dwellings outnumbered by medical consultants, banks, chartered accountants, solicitors and even interior designers. To satisfy his curiosity he went inside the bank he was aiming for and learned that one thing had changed. But on his way out he heard a voice behind him exchanging greetings with one of the bank clerks and stopped dead, his heart slamming rabbit punches against his ribs. He turned slowly, and felt a jolt of visceral satisfaction when the woman walking towards him turned so deathly pale he almost put out a hand to steady her.

‘James!’ She swallowed, so visibly shocked his satisfaction doubled as he held the door open for her.

‘Why, hello! How are you, Harriet?’ he asked affably.

‘Very well.’ A statement which was such a palpable lie he almost laughed in her face. ‘And you?’

‘Never better.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Good to see you again, but I can’t stop—running late. Goodbye.’

James Crawford strode down the street without a backward glance, angry because the chance sighting of Harriet Wilde had affected him so violently. She’d changed out of all recognition from the girl he’d once adored. The girl who’d shut him out of her life and changed his own for ever.

Harriet stood transfixed outside the bank, staring at the man striding away down the hill. At last she let out the breath she’d been holding and turned, shaken, to make for her car. For years after the painful break up she had dreamed of meeting James Crawford again. The result had been too many sleepless nights, and weight loss that ruined her looks, according to the siblings who’d accused her of dieting. And in time she had stopped imagining that every tall, dark male figure she spotted in the distance was James, mainly because in ten long years she had never actually laid eyes on him again. And now she had at last bumped into him, fate arranged it to be after a hard day’s work when she probably looked every minute of the ten years since their last meeting. She hadn’t bothered with lipstick since lunch, either. She smiled bitterly. It would take a lot more than lipstick to mend fences with James Crawford. Who was sure to be a husband and father long since. Harriet’s sharp twinge of pain at the thought was the last straw. She’d been so sure she felt nothing for him any more. But it was only natural to feel something, if only to wonder what he was doing here after all this time. Her phone rang as she turned up the steep, winding drive but she let her father’s call go to message. After the devastating encounter with James she was in sore need of some peace at her own place before tackling the evening ahead.

When Harriet had qualified as a chartered accountant she accepted a job with a local firm instead of a tempting offer from a London-based company, and then astonished her family by announcing that she wanted to move permanently into the Lodge at River House.

‘Why on earth would you want to do that?’ had demanded Julia, the eldest of the three Wilde sisters. ‘It’s so small!’

It was also self-contained, enough distance from the main house for privacy, but near enough to keep a monitoring eye on it. ‘I like it there,’ Harriet had told her. ‘I’ve always used the Lodge to study, anyway. It’s surely not unreasonable at my age to want a place of my own.’

Aubrey Wilde had dismissed the idea instantly. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Why live down there alone?’

Because it would be infinitely preferable to life alone with him at the main house. Julia, the brilliant one, edited a fashion magazine in London, and rarely made time to come back to River House. Neither did the prettier, but considerably less brilliant Sophie, who was too involved with her child and husband, and her social life in Pennington.

‘If you don’t agree, Father, I’ll get a flat in the town,’ had been Harriet’s impassive response. And because she was the daughter who did everything by the book, other than one teenage episode he preferred to forget ever happened, Aubrey Wilde had reluctantly agreed.

It would be a fight to get his agreement tonight. Harriet’s mouth tightened as she wriggled into her favourite dress for morale. As a further boost she released her hair from its severe daytime coil and went to work with a brush. She alone had inherited her mother’s abundant curling mane, and it gave Harriet a kick to know that envious Sophie had to resort to hair extensions and hours at the hairdresser to achieve anything remotely similar. Julia, of course, wore her black locks in a sleek crop that looked as if it cost a fortune to maintain and probably did. Harriet took a few seconds to slap on some make-up, slid on her tallest heels and, feeling about as happy as Daniel on the way to the lion’s den, walked up the steep, winding drive to the house.

When Harriet entered the beloved old house via the back door a mouth-watering aroma scented the vast kitchen, but otherwise it was deserted. No surprise there. From the animated conversation coming from the drawing room along the hall, her siblings were enjoying pre-dinner drinks with their father, with no thought about the dinner itself. Julia and Sophie expected meals to appear without their assistance and, as she did on a regular basis, Harriet gave fervent thanks to the paragon who kept River House in perfect order. Margaret Rogers came in for three hours daily during the week to keep the house immaculate, supplied Aubrey Wilde with a light lunch when required, and stocked his freezer with dinners suitable to heat in the microwave she’d taught him to use. Consequently, he liked to boast that he was self-sufficient. But the actual yoke of householder lay light on his shoulders. Since his early retirement from the bank, Aubrey Wilde spent most of his time on the golf course, in the bar at its club, or at functions and dinners of various kinds.

Harriet checked the fragrant venison casserole keeping hot in the warming oven, then took the first course to the dining room. Julia, tall, faultlessly groomed and commanding, swept in while Harriet was setting out individual salads at one end of the long table she’d laid ready the night before.

‘So there you are at last,’ Julia said tartly. ‘Pa’s been trying to ring you.’

Harriet kissed the air near the expertly tinted cheek she was offered. ‘My last client ran on a bit; I was late leaving the office.’

‘While I’ve come all the way from London, and missed a very important meeting to get here,’ Julia reminded her.

Harriet raised a cynical eyebrow. ‘And spent the entire train journey on the phone, harassing your underlings.’

Julia made no attempt to deny it. ‘So what’s the big mystery? Why are two or three of us gathered together? It can’t be to pray.’

‘It might come to that. I need your backup tonight.’

‘That’s new.’ Julia’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re not involved with someone unsuitable again by any chance?’

Harriet gave her a withering look and turned to make for the kitchen.

‘I’ll report back to Father that you’ve arrived,’ called her sister. ‘Want a drink?’

‘Not yet, thanks.’ Harriet was well aware that her fashion guru sister was inspecting her rear view in the clinging dress. Not that she cared. Some of the weight she’d lost over James had been regained eventually, but she was still a dress size smaller than Julia and at least two less than Sophie.

Harriet’s lips tightened as she put asparagus to steam. After years of absence from her life, it was the second intrusion of the day by James Crawford, the ‘someone unsuitable’ in her past. A mere technician with a computer firm had been dismissed as totally out of the question for a daughter of River House. And, to Harriet’s despair, her godmother, who until that point had been her constant ally, had agreed with Aubrey Wilde for the first time in living memory.

‘Darling, you’re too young,’ Miriam Cairns had told her. ‘You’re doing too well at university to get serious with anyone. If this young man is as wonderful as you say he’ll wait until you’re qualified.’

But James, unwilling to wait, had persuaded Harriet to share a flat with him near the college while she finished her course.

When Aubrey Wilde learned of the plan he’d lost his temper completely. Crimson with fury, he’d roared that he would get the director of the computer firm, a golfing crony of his, to fire his employee immediately. And if Harriet persisted in her defiance a restraining order would be taken out against the upstart, which would mean arrest if the man dared to come anywhere near Miss Harriet Wilde again. Appalled, she had argued long and passionately, and in desperation finally resorted to pleading. But her incensed father had remained immovable. In the end Harriet had given in, afraid that if she continued to defy him Aubrey Wilde would carry out his threat.

Harriet had been forced to tell James that living with him while she was still studying was not possible. ‘With you around to distract me I would never qualify.’

At first James had laughed, sure she was joking, but when he saw she was in deadly earnest he had done his utmost to change her mind until at last he threw up his hands in angry defeat. ‘So that’s it?’ he said at last, his voice rough with emotion. ‘On your bike, Crawford, and never darken my door again.’

‘Of course not,’ she said in misery, tears running down her face. ‘Things will be different once I’m qualified—’

‘You actually expect me to be fool enough to hang around that long, Harriet?’ His sarcastic smile cut her to pieces. ‘Daddy said no, didn’t he? And like a good little daughter you’re giving in without a fight.’

‘I had no choice,’ she said brokenly.

‘There’s always a choice!’ His eyes glittered with rage and bitter hurt. ‘But you’ve obviously made yours, little girl. So get lost. Run home to Daddy and grow up.’

Harriet had rung him the moment she got home, and sobbed in utter despair when she found his phone had been disconnected and his email wiped. James Crawford, the computer expert, had cut off all means of communication. After a sleepless night, she went to his lodgings first thing next morning, to find that he had already paid up and left. And until that brief encounter today she had never seen him again.

The oven timer went off, jerking Harriet back from the past. She loaded the trolley and trundled it along to the dining room, then joined the others to say that dinner was served.

‘About time,’ complained Sophie, jumping up. ‘I’m starving.’

‘But as usual it never occurred to you to lend a hand,’ said Harriet, with a sharpness so unlike her the other three stared, taken aback.

‘Busy day?’ asked her father warily.

Sophie bridled, flushing. ‘I’ve been busy too, I’d have you know. Annabel runs me ragged.’

‘Really? I thought she ran your wonderful Pilar ragged,’ said Harriet, referring to Sophie’s au pair, and Julia laughed.

‘Got you there, Sophie.’

Aubrey Wilde eyed Harriet uneasily. ‘Something wrong?’

‘No more than usual,’ she said tersely. ‘Let’s eat before poor little Sophie fades away from malnutrition.’

Sophie, who was anything but little, opened her mouth to snap back a furious retort, but caught her father’s quelling eye and subsided, sulking, as they took their places in the dining room. Harriet was glad of the wine her father poured for her, but the ordeal looming after the meal killed her enthusiasm for the perfect little salads. To her surprise, Julia carried the used dishes to a sideboard afterwards and ordered Sophie to hand round plates as Harriet served the venison, while Aubrey watched benignly, delighted to see his daughters working in such accord.

‘So why did you want us here tonight, Daddy?’ asked Sophie when they were back in the drawing room.

‘Nothing to do with me.’ He shrugged, and poured himself a cognac. ‘Splendid as it is to have all my girls with me, it’s Harriet’s idea, not mine.’

Julia raised her perfectly threaded eyebrows at her sister. ‘Please tell me I haven’t forgotten some occasion of significance, Harriet. At least I know it’s not your birthday. Have you had a promotion?’

‘Sadly, no.’ Harriet produced her briefcase.

‘Oh, bother,’ groaned Sophie. ‘Don’t say we have to sign things.’

‘No, you don’t.’ Harriet drew up a low table, and spread out some documents. ‘But it’s important that you and Julia are present at this discussion.’

Her father glared at her. ‘Harriet, if this is about accounts you should have discussed it with me first!’

‘In which case,’ she said without emotion, ‘you know perfectly well you would have dismissed my findings as pessimistic nonsense.’

Sophie burst into indignant protest, but Julia silenced her with an upraised hand. ‘These are the accounts for the financial year, Harriet?’

‘Yes.’ For once Harriet was glad of Julia’s input. ‘I may not have spoken to Father first tonight, but I assure you I’ve tried to reason with him on countless other nights before finally calling you both in.’

Aubrey reddened. ‘The girl’s always hammering at me to retrench. But dammit, I lead a very simple life since I retired. How can I be expected to cut down any further?’

Harriet went in for the kill. ‘You sell the house, Father.’

For once Julia and Sophie were in accord as they looked from Harriet to their father in utter horror.

‘Sell River House?’ gasped Sophie.

Julia frowned. ‘It’s as bad as that?’

Harriet eyed her father in challenge, and with much throat clearing he finally admitted that his finances were in a bad way. ‘Like a good many other people, I took a beating on the market recently,’ he admitted gruffly, and poured another brandy.

‘And the bottom line, Harriet?’ demanded Julia.

‘As things stand, Father can’t afford to go on living here without extra revenue coming in. This is a high maintenance house.’

Aubrey nodded morosely. ‘In your grandfather’s day there was a builder on call, and two full-time gardeners on the payroll. Now I get Ed Haines in for maintenance only when strictly necessary, and his son for one day a week in the garden.’

‘And you’re rapidly running out of funds for even that much,’ said Harriet with finality.

Sophie turned on her angrily. ‘Are you sure you’ve got this right? Shouldn’t one of the senior partners in your firm be doing Father’s accounts, not someone junior like you?’

Aubrey Wilde eyed her in disapproval. ‘Apologise to Harriet at once, Sophie.’

‘Sorry, sorry!’ Sophie burst into noisy tears. ‘But I just can’t bear the thought of River House being sold.’

‘Since Harriet is a qualified chartered accountant,’ snapped Julia who, if not affectionate, was always just, ‘her figures are obviously correct.’

‘They were checked by one of the senior partners. Rex Barlow went over them with me, at my request, and agreed with me on every count,’ said Harriet wearily. ‘Funds are needed urgently, or Father has no option. He must sell up.’

‘I can’t manage anything significant in the way of financial help,’ said Julia with regret. ‘The mortgage on the new flat is a killer.’

‘And I can’t ask Gervase for money!’ said Sophie in alarm. ‘He was absolutely horrid to me about my last credit card bill.’

‘Even if either of you could contribute something it would just be a temporary stopgap. However—’ Harriet paused, almost amused as the other three regarded her in sudden hope ‘—if you can’t bear the thought of selling, Father, there might just possibly be another way round the problem.’

He brightened. ‘You’ve thought of something?’

‘Can’t you pay Father more rent for the Lodge?’ said Sophie.

‘If you can’t say anything sensible, for God’s sake keep quiet,’ snapped Julia. ‘Just for the record, how much do you pay, Harriet?’

Colour rose again in Aubrey’s face when Harriet told her.

‘I know it’s too much—’

‘Far too much,’ said Julia trenchantly. ‘No one else would pay anything like that to live in such a poky little place—not that you haven’t made it charming, Harriet,’ she added fairly, ‘and entirely at your own expense at that. But you know damn well you could rent a luxury flat in the town for that money.’

‘So why do you stay here then?’ muttered Sophie sulkily.

‘Because if River House is to remain in the family it needs constant care,’ Harriet told her flatly. ‘When I qualified I offered my free professional help to Father, which means I do the accounts, make sure the household bills are paid on time and consult regularly with Ed Haines about basic house maintenance. But if something isn’t done soon, there won’t be enough money even for that. You’ll have to let Margaret Rogers go, Father, and do the housework and gardening yourself. And sell the new car,’ she added ruthlessly.

This last was so obviously the last straw it would have been amusing in any other circumstances. ‘So what do you have in mind?’ he asked, with unusual humility.

‘Charlotte Brewster is the client who made me late today.’

‘The one who was Head Girl in my day?’ said Julia with interest.

Harriet nodded. ‘She chose me as her accountant because of the school connection.’

‘Never mind all that,’ said Aubrey impatiently. ‘What has this woman to do with our problem?’

‘She’s a professional location agent, working with people who hire out their houses as venues for films, PR events, commercial photo shoots, and so on,’ Harriet told him, human enough to feel satisfaction when his jaw dropped.

‘You’re actually suggesting I let a film crew stampede all over my home?’ he said, aghast.

‘If they find it suitable for their purposes, yes.’

Sophie’s eyes shone. ‘How exciting!’

Julia eyed Harriet with respect. ‘Actually it’s a brilliant idea. You can charge big bucks for just a day’s filming. And I can be of help in this way. I could get my people to do a shoot here, put out feelers in other directions, too.’

‘Great idea.’ Harriet turned back to her father. ‘Of course, as an alternative, you could stay with Miriam and let the entire house out for the summer.’

‘God forbid,’ he said in horror. ‘Miriam and I would kill each other in days.’

‘Then you have no option,’ said Harriet briskly. ‘I can take a room in town while the house is in use, and you can move into the Lodge, Father.’

Julia nodded thoughtfully. ‘The gardens alone would be a huge draw. Dress designers would salivate over this place—models gazing through the wisteria on the veranda, or draped over the balcony outside my bedroom.’

‘And mine,’ echoed Sophie.

Harriet looked at her father. ‘So what’s your answer?’

His mouth twisted. ‘You’ve already decided for me.’

‘Shall I put the idea to the vote?’

‘Unnecessary,’ said Julia crisply. ‘It’s a three to one majority.’

Her father sighed, defeated. ‘Oh, very well, I’ll make it unanimous, but on condition that when these people rampage over the house you stay in the Lodge to keep an eye on them, Harriet. I’ll find somewhere in town. And now, Sophie,’ he added in a different tone, ‘I suggest you help Julia clear the dining room and load the dishwasher.’ He waited until they left the room, then turned to Harriet. ‘You really think this will work?’

She nodded. ‘It must work. The roof is the top priority. I checked with Ed.’

‘Why not with me?’

‘Because you turn a blind eye to what you don’t want to see!’

He sighed. ‘You’ve changed such a lot, Harriet.’

She shook her head. ‘You just haven’t noticed before.’

‘I notice more than you realise,’ he said bleakly, ‘including why you refuse to live here at home with me.’

Harriet was relieved when her sisters’ reappearance put a welcome end to the tense silence which followed her father’s statement. Soon afterwards, Sophie drove home, and Harriet retreated thankfully to the Lodge without mentioning that someone was already interested in taking River House over for a project. It had seemed best to get her father used to the idea before hitting him with the first punter right away.

But instead of concentrating on a workable solution to the problem of River House’s finances, Harriet’s mind kept returning to the past once she was in bed. Over the years she had trained herself to forget that James Crawford existed, but running into him earlier had brought back that long ago idyllic summer so vividly that sleep was impossible.

The Lodge, once occupied by Margaret before her marriage to John Rogers, had been empty when Harriet announced at fifteen that she wanted to take it over to study there in peace. In return for her father’s permission she’d promised to take care of it herself. She was at her desk there one hot summer morning a few years later when her computer crashed. A frantic phone call to the local suppliers brought quick response in the shape of a tall young technician with shaggy black hair and bright hazel eyes which lit up with gratifying pleasure at the sight of her.

‘Hi. I’m from Combe Computers,’ he said in deep gravel tones which sent shivers down her spine.

Harriet smiled shyly and showed him into the small sitting room she’d made into a study. She gestured to the computer on the desk. ‘Can you do anything with it?’

‘I’ll do my best, Miss Wilde.’

‘Harriet.’

‘James.’ He smiled. ‘James Crawford.’

She curled up on the window seat to watch as he set to work, impressed by his skill as he took the machine apart.

‘It’s the mother board,’ he announced after a while, and opened his bulging black bag. ‘I’ll fit a new one. It won’t take long.’

He was right. Far too soon for Harriet, the computer was up and running and James Crawford was ready to leave.

‘I can’t thank you enough,’ she said warmly as she saw him to the door. ‘I was tearing my hair out before you came.’

‘A crime with hair like yours!’ He smiled down at her in the tiny porch. ‘Do you work in the evenings, too?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘How about taking time off to come out for a drink tonight?’

‘Yes,’ she said promptly.

His smile sent her brain reeling. ‘I like a woman who knows her own mind. I’ll pick you up at seven.’

‘No, thanks,’ she said hastily. ‘I’ll meet you. Where?’

From that first night in a small pub far enough from the town to give them anonymity, they’d found an immediate rapport. Unknown to Aubrey Wilde and Miriam Cairns, or to Sophie, who was away in France for the summer with her best friend’s family, they spent every moment possible together from that night on. If questioned on her whereabouts, Harriet enlisted the willing help of a friend, and lied shamelessly that she was making the most of her time with Anne during her vacation. As the time drew near for Harriet to leave for her second year at university the prospect of parting grew so painful James came up with the idea of sharing a flat near the college for the duration of her course.

‘I can freelance, and still be on call for the firm,’ he assured her. ‘Most important of all, we can be together.’

Harriet had agreed rapturously, willing to defy her father on her own account when it came to living with the man she loved, but in the end afraid to risk ruin to James Crawford’s career when Aubrey Wilde’s threats sounded the death knell to the plan.

CHAPTER TWO

HARRIET woke next morning with dark-ringed eyes which needed serious work with camouflage before she was ready to face her day. To her surprise, Julia arrived as she was about to leave. ‘I thought you were having a lie-in!’

Julia nodded glumly. ‘So did I. But my body clock is still ticking on London time. Besides, I wanted to catch you before you took off. Does Charlotte Brewster already have something in mind for River House? Knowing you, cautious one, I was pretty sure you wouldn’t have stated your case so strongly otherwise.’

‘You’re right. She’s sending me our first punter this morning. Some man who wants the house for a party.’ Harriet looked at her watch. ‘I’d better get going. I’ll give you a ring tonight to report.’

‘In that case I’ll be noble and keep Sophie in the loop for you.’ Julia shot her sister a wry look. ‘I suppose you know why she’s such a cow to you?’

Harriet nodded. ‘She’s jealous of my so-called relationship with Father.’

Julia eyed her thoughtfully. ‘She hasn’t a clue, has she? So why do you stay?’

Harriet concentrated on packing her briefcase. ‘Because just before … before the end, I promised Mother I would help Father take good care of River House.’

Julia shook her head in disapproval. ‘Leave him to do it himself. I love the place too, but you need more in your life than a house, Harriet! Mother would be the first to agree with me.’

‘I enjoy a normal social life,’ said Harriet defensively.

‘Ah, but do you ever enjoy a sleepover with the men you go out with? I doubt that you ask anyone back here!’

‘For heaven’s sake, Julia, it’s too early in the morning for this—I have to go.’

Julia paused in the doorway. ‘Take my advice—if money does come in this way, or any other way at all, get part of it tied up tight in a separate business account for the house. Otherwise Pa might start dabbling in shares and Lord knows what else again and we’ll be back to square one.’

‘I intend to,’ Harriet assured her. ‘When I break the glad news to him can I say I have your full support?’

‘Absolutely. Good luck.’

Harriet reached the premises in Broad Street on time, as usual. She exchanged greetings with Lydia, the long-time receptionist, and made for the small office with a single tall window overlooking the gardens—a view that more than compensated for lack of space. As she gazed out for her brief morning ritual of peace, the new trainee came in to ask about coffee.

‘Not right now, thanks, Simon.’ Harriet smiled at him. ‘Bring some when my nine-thirty appointment arrives. Tell Lydia to buzz you the moment he does so you can usher him in with due pomp.’

‘Will do. You look good today,’ he remarked. ‘New suit?’

‘New to you, yes.’ She smiled. ‘Now, hop off and let me get on.’

Harriet worked steadily for an hour before taking a break to tidy up. She was back at her desk, absorbed again, when Simon knocked on her door and ushered in her client.

‘Your nine-thirty appointment, Miss Wilde,’ he announced.

Harriet got to her feet feeling as though all the air had been sucked out of her office as James Crawford, elegant in a dark city suit, strolled in and dominated it by the sheer force of his personality. Now she had the time to take a good look, she could see that he was harder, older and colder, with little resemblance to the man she’d fallen in love with.

‘Good morning, Harriet.’ He held out his hand. ‘I had no time yesterday to mention we’d be meeting in an official capacity today.’

Or he wanted to give her a nasty surprise. ‘Good morning.’ Manfully hiding her shock, Harriet took the strong, slim hand. Ignoring the searing streak of heat along her veins at the contact, she smiled politely. ‘This is a surprise. Charlotte Brewster told me I had a possible client to hire River House, but she forgot to give me a name.’

James drew up a chair in front of her desk and sat down, looking so relaxed Harriet wanted to hit him. ‘She didn’t forget. I asked to remain anonymous.’

‘Why?’

His eyes gleamed with mockery. ‘In case you refused to see me.’

‘Why would I do that?’ she said, determinedly pleasant.

Simon came in bearing a tray with the silver coffee pot and fine china normally reserved for clients of the senior partner. ‘Ring if you need anything else, Miss Wilde.’

‘Thank you, Simon.’

Once she’d served James’s coffee, Harriet forced herself to sip hers slowly rather than glug the caffeine down like medicine.

‘To business,’ said James briskly, putting his cup down. ‘I met Ms Brewster over the weekend. During our conversation I told her I believe in keeping my employees happy and was on the lookout for an unusual location to throw a party for them.’ His eyes speared hers. ‘Imagine my surprise when she suggested River House.’

She could, vividly. ‘What kind of company do you run?’

‘We provide broadband and phone lines to businesses and various commercial outfits,’ he informed her, and smiled. ‘I’ve moved on a bit from the day I was called out to repair your computer. The usual rags-to-riches story, according to the press.’

‘Congratulations. I’m afraid I missed reading about it.’ She glued her smile in place. ‘So what, exactly, did you have in mind with regard to River House?’ Other than humiliating Harriet Wilde by hiring her home.

He leaned back, still irritatingly relaxed. ‘Briefly, my aim is a party to celebrate the recent expansion in my Live Wires Group. I’ve recently taken over a couple of small companies who ran into trouble. This event will welcome their employees on to my staff, and at the same time reward my original workforce for their efforts. I could use a hotel, obviously, but I liked the idea of an actual home setting as a venue.’

The Wilde home in particular. ‘River House doesn’t have room to put many people up overnight,’ Harriet warned, her mind in turmoil behind her professional demeanour.

He shook his head. ‘Not my intention. Transport will be provided for arrival and departure on the same day. I seem to remember a terrace leading to a large lawn, so a marquee seems the most practical idea, with drinks on the terrace beforehand if the weather’s good. What parking facilities can you provide?’

‘There’s an adjoining paddock we used for my sister’s wedding. Would your caterers need the kitchen?’ By this stage Harriet was experiencing serious qualms about hiring her home to any client, let alone to James Crawford.

‘The firm I have in mind provides their own,’ he informed her. ‘And the other necessary facilities will be set up out of sight somewhere in the gardens. You need suffer very little intrusion on your privacy.’

Harriet smiled coolly. ‘It makes no difference to me personally. I don’t live there.’

He tensed, eyes narrowed. ‘You’re based here in the town?’

‘No. Perhaps you may remember the Lodge at River House? I’ve lived there for quite a while.’

Of course he remembered the Lodge! James tried to look as though he were attempting to recall it. ‘I see.’ But he didn’t. This self-contained woman with her tailored suit and severe, pulled back hair was very different from the warm, loving girl he remembered. But then, when push came to shove that girl had not cared enough for him to give up her lifestyle at River House. For which he should be eternally grateful. The hurt and humiliation she’d dished out had fired him with the ambition to make such a success of his life James Crawford would be good enough for anyone, Aubrey Wilde’s daughter included. It was a blow to hear she’d moved out of River House itself, but if her father still lived there that would have to do.

‘I’ll need to see over the house,’ he informed her, ‘at some time convenient to you and your father, of course.’

Of course. Harriet had been steeling herself for that from the moment he entered her office and turned her life on its head again.

‘I’m staying in the locality with my sister for a few days,’ said James, ‘so any time up to, and including, Sunday would suit me.’

‘Perhaps I could ring you later when I’ve had a word with my father.’

‘By all means.’ James stood up and handed her a card. ‘You can reach me on any of the numbers. Goodbye … Miss Wilde.’ He strode from her office and down the hall, smiling briefly at the receptionist as he said goodbye. Outside in bright morning sunshine he breathed in deeply, savouring the overwhelming satisfaction of the moment. It had taken a long time and a hell of a lot of hard graft to achieve financial success, while George Lassiter, his old boss, had hinted over lunch recently that Aubrey Wilde’s finances were not too buoyant these days. James’s eyes glittered coldly. They must be reaching crisis point if he was willing to hire his house out to the man who’d once been considered unfit to enter its hallowed portals.

As soon as she heard the street door close Harriet rang Charlotte Brewster to report.

‘James said he knew you slightly years ago and asked to remain anonymous so he could surprise you,’ Charlotte informed her. ‘How well did you know him?’

‘When I was a student he came to the Lodge to mend my computer. But before I let James Crawford look over River House, Ms Brewster, I need to know how much he’s willing to pay for the privilege.’

Charlotte chuckled. ‘You sounded just like Julia then! When I was a prefect we clashed constantly. I hear she edits one of those glossy style magazines these days. Did she marry?’

‘Not yet.’

‘And you’re not married either—though the love of your life is easy to identify!’

Harriet went cold.

‘River House obviously means the world to you,’ Charlotte continued with sympathy. ‘But take my advice; don’t expend all your love on bricks and mortar. A man in one’s life is no bad thing, you know.’

‘Fascinating though the subject is, Charlotte, let’s get down to brass tacks. How much will Mr Crawford cough up to hire River House?’

Harriet drove home in a very different mood from the night before. One detail apart, she had good news for her father. By the time she reached the Lodge she had even recovered enough from the shock of James Crawford as their first client to enjoy a solitary, celebratory meal alone before she went up to the house. She found her father hovering in the kitchen, waiting for her.

‘Well?’ he said eagerly. ‘Julia said you were seeing this Brewster woman today. Do you have good news?’

‘Yes. Let’s discuss it over coffee in the study.’

‘I’ve already made it for you,’ he said, surprising her.

Once they were settled in the study Harriet informed him that her meeting had been with an actual client for the new venture, and told him how much the client would pay for hiring River House to host a party for his workforce. ‘But this is where I burst your bubble, Father.’

He was thinking with such rapture of the fee he took time to register her remark. ‘Eh? What’s that?’

‘To make this arrangement work, only part of the money will be paid into your personal account; the rest will go into a business account only I will draw on for maintenance for River House. Julia is in full agreement with me on this.’ Harriet’s eyes locked with his, and Aubrey Wilde nodded, defeated.

‘Whatever you say. But it’s a sad day when daughters don’t trust their father.’

Not without cause, thought Harriet, unmoved. ‘Charlotte Brewster tells me she has several further possibilities in mind for River House, so our venture has every chance of being successful. On condition, she emphasizes, that the house and gardens are maintained to a standard high enough to attract future clients.’

Aubrey raised his still handsome head, his smile bleak. ‘I hear you. I’ll sign on whatever dotted line you put in front of me—once I’ve read every word of the small print, of course.’

‘Of course,’ she agreed, relaxing slightly.

‘This would be damned embarrassing if I were still at the bank. I’m glad I retired when I did,’ he said, depressed.

‘Yet you of all people know that a business account like this makes sense,’ said Harriet briskly, watching closely while he signed the documents. ‘By the way, the client would like to see over the house and garden as soon as possible. Do you want to be here when he comes?’

He looked up irritably. ‘Of course I do! Dammit, girl, it’s my home! Just make sure you’re here, too.’

‘As you wish. I’d rather not take time off so I’ll suggest Saturday to the client and ask Will to give us extra time in the garden beforehand. The weather forecast is good for the weekend, fortunately. I checked.’

He nodded glumly. ‘Saturday it is then. I was booked to play golf, but I’ll cancel.’

‘Good. I’ll ask the client to come at ten.’

‘Who is he, by the way?’

‘Head of the Live Wires Group.’

‘Can’t say I’ve heard of it. But it must be successful if he’s prepared to shell out like this just to entertain his employees. You’d better have a word with Mrs Rogers to prepare her, Harriet.’

‘It won’t affect her too much. Margaret keeps the entire house at inspection standard all the time anyway. And the kitchen won’t be needed for the party catering.’

‘But people will be swarming all over the rest of the house,’ he said gloomily.

‘Not in this instance. There’s to be a marquee on the lawn—probably like the one you had for Sophie’s wedding.’

‘The affair won’t be too intrusive then.’ Aubrey hovered as she packed the documents away. ‘If that’s everything I might as well go out for an hour.’

‘Cheer up, Father. It’s better than selling the house.’

‘By God you’re right,’ he said with feeling, and squeezed her hand. ‘You’re a good girl, Harriet.’

She withdrew her hand gently. ‘Goodnight, Father.’

Harriet returned to the Lodge and stood at the window, watching her father’s newest car purr down the drive. She left a message for Julia to report on the meeting, and finally steeled herself to contact James.

‘This is Harriet—Harriet Wilde.’

‘I haven’t forgotten your name! So when do we meet?’

‘Does Saturday suit you?’

‘Saturday is fine to inspect the house, but I need to see you before then, Harriet. Or should I keep to Miss Wilde?’

She stiffened. ‘Your choice entirely. Why do you want to see me?’

‘There are some points I’d like to go over with you before I meet up with your father.’

His money is getting us out of a hole, she reminded herself. ‘When would you like to come to my office?’

‘I meant a private meeting—over dinner tomorrow evening.’

Harriet almost dropped her phone. ‘Is that absolutely necessary?’

‘Imperative. I need certain facts clarified before I come to River House. Don’t worry,’ he added sardonically, ‘I’m not asking to dine à deux. I’m staying with my sister. The dinner invitation is from Moira.’

Harriet’s eyebrows rose. ‘How very kind of her.’

‘You’ll come then?’

Think of the money, she chanted in a silent mantra. ‘Where does your sister live?’

‘A couple of miles off the Oxford road as you leave town. Her husband recently bought The Old Rectory at Wood End. I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.’

‘No—thank you,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m sure I can find it.’

Harriet felt oddly baffled as she disconnected. James could hardly intend to taunt her about the past at his sister’s dinner table. Hiring River House would surely be revenge enough for him without that. But for a split second at the office she could have sworn he’d been ready to change his mind when he heard she no longer lived in the house. But surely he would have said he intended backing out while he was in her office, rather than have his sister invite her to dinner. Moira Crawford, Harriet knew, had stood in loco parentis to James and his brother after their parents died, and made a good job of it by the affection in his voice when he spoke of her. It was a surprise to learn that she lived locally now.

James, she thought, depressed, had changed out of all recognition from the charmer she’d fallen in love with. At one time the gravel tones in his voice had rendered her weak at the knees, but during the interview they had acted like sandpaper on her nerves. His hair was more disciplined and the lanky body had gained muscle and hardened, and his dress sense was now impeccable, all as she would have expected. His personality was the big difference. She had adored his smile in the old days, but there’d been no sign of it today. The driving ambition necessary to build up a successful telecom company obviously left no room for the soft option of charm.

Harriet made sure she finished work on the dot the following day, in good time to prepare herself for crossing swords with the client who had once been her sweetheart. But never her actual lover. Knowing he would be her first, he’d indulged her plea to wait until they moved in together. Which, looking back, would have been a recipe for disaster. With James sharing her bed it would have been a wrench to leave it to attend lectures. Even so, if she had been the sole target of her father’s anger she would have dug her heels in and defied him. But his threat to have James arrested had beaten her into the dust.

Harriet thrust thoughts of the past away as she dealt with her exuberant hair, which was neither dark like Julia’s nor fair like Sophie’s, but a shade somewhere between. When it was restrained in the workaday coil it looked quite dark, but newly washed and let loose on her shoulders it took on light and shade and transformed her appearance, as she well knew. She shrugged. It was only common sense to face James armed with the best weapon in her armoury. She tugged on the clinging black dress, hung gilt and crystal drops in her ears, and saw her father coming down the drive as she opened the door to leave.

‘Ah,’ he said, crestfallen, ‘you’re going out. Mrs Rogers left me so much food I hoped you might join me for dinner for once.’

‘Sorry, Father,’ she said politely. ‘I’m having dinner with a friend.’ Sort of.

It was a measure of their relationship these days that Aubrey Wilde didn’t even ask the identity of the friend. ‘Another time then, Harriet. Enjoy your evening.’

The Old Rectory at Wood End dated from the eighteen-hundreds, when families of the clergy were usually large. Harriet’s eyes narrowed as she drove up the tree-lined drive towards the house. It looked more than big enough for a party. Her heart gave an errant thump when James appeared as she parked on the gravel circle in front of the main door.

He came to help her out of the car looking more like the young man she’d once known than the successful tycoon he’d become. His casual garb gave her a moment’s doubt about her dress until she saw that his sweater was cashmere, and the jeans fitted his long legs so faithfully they’d obviously been cut by a master.

‘Good evening, Harriet,’ he said, his eyes on her hair.

She smiled at him serenely. ‘Hi.’ She looked up at the façade of windows as he led her to the door. ‘What a lovely house.’

He turned to the woman hurrying to join them. ‘My sister,’ James informed his guest. ‘Moira, this is Harriet Wilde.’

‘Welcome, Harriet.’ Moira smiled warmly as she took the sheaf of flowers her guest handed her. ‘How lovely, thank you. Come on in. We’re all out here. My husband will give you a drink while I see to the flowers.’

All? Harriet followed her hostess across a wide hall and into a conservatory looking out over the back garden. A large smiling man got to his feet, followed by two young women, one with opulent curves and sheets of straight blonde hair, the other a less spectacular brunette.

‘Marcus Graveney,’ said her host, shaking her hand. ‘These are my stepsisters, Claudia and Lily.’

‘Hi,’ said the sultry Claudia without enthusiasm, leaving Lily to make up for it with the sincere warmth of her greeting.

Marcus gave Harriet the glass of tonic she chose, and led her to one of the comfortable cane chairs. ‘James says you’re a native of these parts.’

She nodded. ‘I’m an accountant with Barlow & Greer in the town.’

Claudia made a face. ‘Isn’t that deadly dull?’

‘It would be for you,’ said James indulgently.

‘A closer relationship with figures wouldn’t do you any harm, Miss, dull or not,’ said her brother.

‘Do you enjoy your job?’ asked Lily.

‘Yes,’ said Harriet with truth. ‘It’s a very busy practice, and I meet a lot of interesting people in the course of my work.’

‘It’s good of you to spare the time to come this evening,’ said James as he sat down next to Claudia.

‘I often dine with clients as part of the job,’ Harriet assured him.

‘Surely you’re not going to talk business over dinner, James,’ said Claudia, pouting.

‘Not over the meal.’ He slid a consoling arm round her waist. ‘I’ll borrow your study for a few moments afterwards if I may, Marcus. Harriet and I can have our talk in there without boring your sisters.’

Moira Graveney was a cook of considerable skill, and in other circumstances Harriet would have enjoyed the meal and the lively conversation, during which she learned that Marcus had recently joined the legal chambers near her offices in Broad Street. But with James’s arm brushing hers from time to time, and waves of hostility sizzling across the table from Claudia, it was a relief when Moira finally suggested they all adjourn to the conservatory for coffee.

‘Harriet and I will have ours in the study, love,’ said James.

‘Thank you for a delicious meal, Mrs Graveney,’ said Harriet, surprised to see a look of sympathy in Moira’s distinctive hazel eyes.

‘Do call me Moira. But you weren’t hungry, were you?’

‘On a diet?’ said Claudia sweetly.

‘No. Just a bit tired.’

‘Unlike some people, lazybones, Harriet’s been slaving away all day,’ said Lily in typical sister fashion. ‘And you’re the one on a diet—not that it’s working.’

‘Now then, girls,’ said their brother, and waved them away. ‘You carry on, James. I’ll send coffee in for you.’

James led Harriet to a very masculine panelled room. ‘This is Marcus’s retreat, where sermons were written in the past. When they moved here shortly after their marriage earlier this year, a study was his top priority. Moira’s was the large garden we never had when we were young.’

Harriet sat down in the big leather chair he held out for her and got to the point. ‘So have you brought me in here to read me a sermon, James?’

He held up a hand and went to the door to let in Claudia with a tray. ‘Thanks, sweetheart.’

She reached up and tapped his cheek with a red-tipped finger. ‘Don’t be long.’

Harriet smiled politely as James handed her a cup of coffee. ‘Thank you. So what did you want to talk about?’

He sat behind the desk, the dark-rimmed hazel irises spearing hers. ‘No sermon, but I want some information before I meet your father—for the first time, incidentally, even though he tried to get me sacked from Combe Computers. Does he know who he’s dealing with?’

Harriet raised an eyebrow. ‘Tried?’

He nodded. ‘George Lassiter didn’t actually sack me all those years ago, Harriet. He merely transferred me up to his Newcastle outfit, which got me far away from you, as your father wanted, but kept me very firmly on George’s payroll. He even gave me a rise. I was really good at my job, remember. Or had you forgotten?’

‘No. I hadn’t forgotten.’ Anything. She looked at him steadily. ‘I haven’t told my father who you are other than the client paying good money to hire River House for a party.’

He eyed her grimly. ‘So when I introduce myself he might cancel the whole idea!’

Harriet shook her head. ‘It’s all signed and sealed. My father can’t back out.’ Nor would he if it meant losing such easy money.

‘When Ms Brewster suggested River House as a location I thought I was hearing things.’ James’s smile sent shivers down her spine. ‘It was just too good to pass up.’

‘For payback?’

‘What else?’ He frowned. ‘Yet you don’t actually live in the house any more. What the devil are you doing alone at the Lodge?’

‘I wanted a place of my own.’

‘I can understand that, but if that was your goal why not live down in the town? Or couldn’t you bear to be too far away from Daddy?’ When she made no response to that he eyed her curiously. ‘I thought you’d be married by now.’

‘Ditto!’

He shook his head. ‘After the treatment you dished out, Miss Wilde, I gave up on relationships and concentrated on the really important things in life—success and money.’

‘With spectacular results. I congratulate you.’ She stood up. ‘If that’s all you wanted I’ll go home now, and let you get back to Claudia.’

He laughed. ‘She’s jealous as hell of you, Harriet.’

She eyed him blankly. ‘Really? Why?’

‘I told her that you and I had a fling together once upon a time.’

‘A fling?’ she said with distaste.

He raised a mocking eyebrow. ‘How else would you describe something so unimportant?’

She dropped her eyes. ‘I never thought of it that way.’

‘I’m surprised you ever thought of it at all!’ he said caustically.

‘Are you?’ She looked at her watch. ‘I really must go. Does ten on Saturday work for you?’

‘Perfectly.’ He opened the door for her.

Harriet caught a whiff of soap and expensive wool as she passed him; and something else that was so familiar and singularly James she felt dizzy.

‘Hey,’ he said quickly, ‘are you all right?’

She forced a smile. ‘Too much coffee, and too many late nights.’

‘You’re as white as a sheet,’ he said roughly. ‘Let me drive you home. I’ll get your car back to you tomorrow.’

‘No! Please, I’m fine. I just need to get to bed.’ And, please God, sleep when she got there.

James eyed her closely as they made for the conservatory. ‘You obviously work too hard,’ he said, the familiar husky tone in his voice more pronounced. ‘No change there; you always did, even as a teenager.’

Moira got up with a welcoming smile as they joined the others. ‘You weren’t long.’

‘Mission accomplished,’ said Harriet, and returned the smile warmly. ‘It’s been such a pleasure to meet you. Thank you again for the delicious dinner.’

Moira’s face fell. ‘Surely you’re not leaving already, dear? It’s early, and I’ve had no chance to talk to you!’

Marcus came to stand by his wife. ‘They obviously work you too hard at your firm, Harriet.’

From the look on Claudia’s face, this plainly meant she looked like a hag. Harriet smiled brightly. ‘It’s a busy time right now.’

‘It’s been lovely to meet you. Please come again,’ said Lily eagerly. ‘We don’t know anyone here.’

‘And never likely to out in the wilds like this,’ complained her sister, and pouted at Marcus. ‘All right for you newly-weds, but not much fun for us.’

He gave her a quelling look and put an arm round his wife. ‘Since you city girls only come here on flying visits it’s hardly a problem.’

Time to go, thought Harriet. I get enough angst with my own family. ‘I really must be off. Thank you again. Goodnight.’

‘I’ll see you out,’ said James.

Claudia scrambled to her feet. ‘I’ll come with you.’

James shook his head. ‘I need to finalise arrangements with Harriet.’

She sat down again abruptly, hiding her flush of mortification behind the fall of pale hair.

‘Do come and see us again soon,’ said Moira, as Harriet left.

‘But you obviously don’t want to come here again, do you?’ demanded James as he saw Harriet to her car.

‘No, I don’t,’ she said frankly. ‘I like your sister and her husband very much, Lily too. Claudia obviously resents me due to this “fling” you mentioned, but the main reason is you, James. You still bear me a grudge.’

His face hardened in the bright security lights. ‘Do you blame me?’

‘Not in the least.’ Harriet slid into the car, switched on the ignition and opened the window. ‘Saturday then.’

‘Saturday it is.’ He gave her an unsettling smile. ‘I’ll be there on the stroke of ten. I’m really looking forward to meeting your father.’

His parting words sent chills down Harriet’s spine as she drove home. Did he intend coming to River House on Saturday for a showdown with her father before cancelling the party? Harriet shivered at the prospect, though she knew exactly why James had asked her to the Old Rectory. He could easily have obtained the information he wanted during a phone call, but instead he had wanted, maybe needed, to demonstrate that he now had a family background like hers. And that he was the object of the sexy Claudia’s passion. He needn’t have bothered about the last. Harriet had no doubt that he’d been the object of several women’s passion over the years. In his twenties he’d been attractive enough, but now he was ten years older he took her breath away.

CHAPTER THREE

ONCE informed of the new venture, Margaret Rogers, well aware of the difficult financial situation and most other things about the Wilde family, began on a frenzy of unnecessary cleaning. The furniture in every room was polished to an even higher gleam, and her husband was called in to wash the windows inside and out. The copper pans above the island in the kitchen were scoured to blinding glory, and Aubrey Wilde volunteered to eat out until after Saturday to keep the kitchen pristine. When Harriet got home on the Friday evening Margaret was waiting to take her on a tour of inspection. River House was looking its best from every possible point of view in the evening sunshine, the hall and drawing room fragrant with the arrangements made by Margaret from blooms and greenery Will had cut in the garden.

‘How hard you’ve worked. It all looks wonderful,’ said Harriet gratefully.

In Julia’s bedroom they stood on the balcony outside the window and looked down on the gardens, which sloped down to the river which gave the house its name.

‘Don’t you miss living up here, Harriet?’ Margaret asked. ‘It still worries me to think of you alone down in that little place.’

‘I like it there.’

‘But surely you’ll get married one day. You can’t act as clerk of the works for the house for ever. It’s not my place to say so, but it’s not natural for a girl to carry such a load on her shoulders.’

‘I promised I would,’ said Harriet.

‘I know.’ The other woman nodded sadly. ‘Your mother would want you to have a life, just the same.’ She patted Harriet’s hand. ‘No offence.’

‘Of course not,’ said Harriet affectionately. ‘Thank you for everything, Margaret. I don’t know what my father would do without you.’

‘I don’t do it for him, dear; I made a promise, too.’ Margaret smiled briskly. ‘And now I must get home and prepare supper for John.’

‘Please thank him for me. He’s been a huge help.’ And would be paid for it, no matter how much he protested.

Her father intercepted her on her way out. ‘Since this telecoms chap wants a marquee, let’s take a stroll round the garden.’

The herbaceous borders edging the lawns in front of the house were just coming into colour. Harriet breathed in the heady scent of newly cut grass as she tried to look at the gardens with the eye of a prospective client. ‘John’s done a great job with the weeding. Will says he wouldn’t have managed it all in time without him.’

‘Good man,’ said Aubrey, and gave her a sidelong look. ‘He’ll need to be paid.’

‘Of course. Now he’s retired, he can do with the money.’

They went on to walk round the four acres of garden together, a new experience to them both recently. It was years since Harriet had spent any real time alone in her father’s company. When they got back to the house he suggested a look round inside, but she told him she’d been over it earlier with Margaret.

‘She’s done even more wonders than usual, the house looks perfect.’

‘But it’s not,’ said her father heavily. ‘It would only be perfect if you came back home to live in it.’

She shook her head. ‘Not going to happen. Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.’

Next morning Harriet woke to the feeling of a cloud hanging over her and groaned at the thought of the morning ahead. In the shower she thought, not for the first time, that the only thing likely to drive her back to live in River House was the lure of a long hot soak in the kind of tub her bathroom was too small to accommodate. She dealt with her hair, tied it back in a skein of half damp curls, dressed in white shirt and jeans and ate some breakfast to get a kick-start to this important day. She couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that James intended turning River House down once he’d inspected it. Thank God he still had no idea her father had once been ready to threaten him with arrest.

Harriet walked up to the house shortly before ten to find her father pacing along the terrace, smartly dressed as always, but visibly tense.

‘Good morning.’ He smiled warily. ‘You look very young and pretty today.’

‘Thank you. You look good yourself.’ Her father never stinted on his wardrobe. ‘Luckily the weather forecast was accurate for once. The gardens look fabulous in this sunshine. Will has worked incredibly hard.’ She tensed at the sound of a car engine changing gears on the bend of the steep drive. ‘Our client’s arrived.’

Harriet waited with her father at the head of the steps, very much aware that his tension equalled her own. When James got out of a black convertible, wearing clothes much like hers, she saw her father relax and wished she could do the same.

‘Looks like a decent sort of chap—that’s an Aston Martin Volante,’ he said in an undertone, and Harriet stood rigid with apprehension as James mounted the steps towards them. ‘Good morning,’ said her father, smiling genially. ‘Welcome to River House. I’m Aubrey Wilde.’

‘James Crawford.’ James returned the smile, looking at him steadily as he shook hands. ‘I’ve already met your daughter, of course. Good morning, Miss Wilde.’

She forced her stiff lips to smile. ‘Good morning. Isn’t it a lovely day? Shall we start the tour in the garden, or would you prefer to see over the house first?’

‘The gardens, please. With luck, the weather will be good on the day and we’ll have no need to trespass in the house.’

‘We won’t look on it as trespass, Crawford,’ Aubrey assured him. ‘Come in and look around. Harriet will give you the grand tour, and then we can have coffee before going on to the gardens.’

One look at James had been reassurance enough for her father. He was obviously still in blissful ignorance about James’s identity, but it was equally obvious that he was now reconciled to letting out River House to him. ‘Is that all right with you?’ she asked James.

He smiled blandly. ‘Of course. It would be a pleasure.’

‘Splendid.’ Aubrey led the way inside. ‘Come back to the kitchen when you’re ready and I’ll have coffee waiting.’

‘If you’ll come this way, then, Mr Crawford,’ said Harriet, and led him along the right-angled hall towards the drawing room at the far end.

‘He hasn’t a clue who he’s dealing with, has he?’ murmured James as they entered a vast sunlit room furnished with comfortable modern pieces living in harmony with the paintings and antiques handed down through Sarah Tolliver Wilde’s family.

‘Do you want me to tell him?’

‘Not if it will make things difficult for you.’ James took in the room, his smile bleak. ‘Now I see inside this place at last, I understand why you couldn’t give it up. But why the hell do you live in the Lodge now?’

‘Personal reasons. Now, if you’ll follow me back down the hall, the dining room is next on the left. Father insists on eating there every night when he’s home.’

‘Good God,’ said James, following her into a large room with a table big enough for a board meeting. ‘Do you eat here with him?’

‘No.’

He looked down into her averted face. ‘You’ve changed a lot, Harriet.’

‘After all these years, that’s hardly surprising.’ She shrugged. ‘You told me to grow up, so I did. Next along is Father’s study—’

‘We needn’t go in there,’ James said quickly.

‘Follow me upstairs, then.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s unnecessary to see more of the house. Let’s concentrate on the gardens.’

‘As you wish.’ She smiled brightly. ‘Shall we have that coffee first?’

Aubrey Wilde was in a convivial mood when they entered the kitchen. ‘I hope you don’t mind drinking your coffee in here.’

James looked at the balloon chairs ranged around a mahogany table at one end, the oak cupboards and creamy counters lining the business end, and the island with gas hobs and canopy hung with gleaming copper pans. ‘Only too pleased. Do you do much cooking, sir?’

Aubrey laughed, smiling sheepishly at his daughter. ‘Afraid not. My wonderful Mrs Rogers does that—been with the family for years.’

Harriet supplied her father with the sweetened brew of his choice, then looked at James in polite question. ‘How do you like yours?’ Though she knew from their meeting that James took his coffee black, as he’d always done. And the look he gave her said he was well aware of it.

‘As it comes, please.’

The two men chatted for a while, but after a few minutes James stood up. ‘If you’re ready for the tour now, Mr Wilde, I need to be off shortly.’

Aubrey sprang to attention. ‘Of course, of course.’

Harriet got to her feet quickly, determined not leave them alone together. ‘If you’re keen to get away, Father, I’ll take Mr Crawford over the gardens.’

‘Splendid. You know more about them than me, anyway,’ said her father. ‘Don’t forget the paddock.’

James thanked him formally and then followed Harriet down the steps to the main lawn to start the tour of the garden. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard her father’s car start up. It seemed certain, now, that James would keep to his decision to use River House for his party. And her father had no idea who he was, probably because he had simply erased her rebellion from his mind. Not impossible. Her father was an expert at airbrushing unpleasantness from his life.

It was a strange experience to show James round the extensive gardens he had never set foot in before. During their time together in the past she had been so determined to keep their relationship a secret she had always driven to meet him and never allowed him to take her home. His visit to the Lodge to mend her computer had been his sole time spent on the property.

‘It’s a lot bigger than I thought,’ he commented as they crossed the vast lawn. ‘A marquee will be no problem here.’

‘No. My father could have given you more details about that, but—’

‘But you wanted to get him away from me as soon as you could, in case he recognised me and cancelled the whole thing. Is it that important to you, Harriet?’

‘Yes.’ Her chin lifted proudly. ‘We need a new roof.’

‘And you’re willing to take my money to pay for it.’

‘Yes.’ She led the way up the steps to the terrace, desperate now for him to leave so she could recover from the tension of the morning. As they reached the Lodge, Harriet looked up at him in query. ‘Have you seen all you need to see?’

‘Not exactly. May I come in?’

‘Of course.’ What else could she say? She opened the door and went ahead of him into her small sitting room.

‘It looks very different in here now,’ he commented, looking round.

‘I’ve stamped my personality on it over the years.’

‘Years?’ James frowned. ‘How long have you been living here?’

‘I used it to study in as a teenager, if you remember, but since I qualified the Lodge has been my permanent home.’

‘May I sit down?’

‘Of course. Take the sofa.’ Harriet curled up on the window seat.

‘You had a desk in here,’ he observed, after a silence a shade too long for comfort.

‘It lives in my bedroom these days.’ She eyed him warily. ‘Is there anything else you need?’

‘Yes, a chat.’ James leaned back, irritatingly at ease as he dominated the room just by sitting there. ‘When I introduced myself this morning I fully expected to be run off the property. It was an anticlimax to find your father obviously didn’t know me from Adam.’

Harriet nodded. ‘I only spoke about you once in the past, when I said I was going to live with you. I just referred to you as James.’ She frowned. ‘But he must have known your full name to get your boss to fire you—or transfer you, as it turned out.’

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