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dashing and very brave, but every person who was truly acquainted with Chase could have explained that he was a rascal and wastrel. It was refreshing to have Ralston view him differently, and he wouldn’t crush the boy’s illusions.
    Ralston grabbed a towel and threw it to Chase, but he didn’t catch it.
    “What’s that for?” Chase asked. “It’s still hot outside, and I’m not finished.”
    “Get dressed so we can properly greet our guests.”
    “They’re not guests,” he churlishly complained. “They’re…nuns.”
    “Nuns from home who speak English, as well as three children who are probably scared out of their wits. If you won’t welcome them, I certainly will.”
    “Wait until you meet them and Sister Faithful lashes you with that sharp tongue of hers. You’ll be sorry.”
    “I couldn’t possibly be.” He was practically skipping with joy. “I’ll have the servants prepare a fine supper. We’ll dine with them on the verandah as the sun is setting.”
    “I’m aquiver with excitement,” Chase sarcastically retorted.
    Ralston hurried off, and Chase remained in the pool a bit longer than he generally would have.
    As Ralston had wondered, he too was wondering about his manners. He’d been taught how to act the gentleman, how to treat a lady, how to converse in a civil fashion. But he’d simply been so disturbed by Sister Faithful strutting in. He’d been horrid to her and figured he should apologize.
    She’d suffered many catastrophes, and she was in a pickle, alone in Africa without family or resources. Chase knew precisely how that felt. He’d suffered his own adversities in Egypt and had barely survived them.
    Initially, when he’d staggered into the villa, he’d been desperate to return to England, but there was actually nothing for him there. His sister was in London, but she was newly married to a man Chase couldn’t abide and busy with her own life. There was no genuine reason he could cite as to why he should go back—except that it was home.
    When he and Ralston had been tossed overboard, they’d drifted for days and eventually washed up on the beach below the villa.
    It was too far-fetched to be believed, but the magnificent abode had been abandoned, the previous occupants having fled without a word in the middle of the night. No one else ever came to claim the place, and the servants—who’d been nervous and worried—had greeted them like old friends.
    There were rumors about the property, of a grisly murder and ghosts walking, so it was supposedly haunted, and the local citizens were more superstitious than rural villagers in Cornwall—if that was possible.
    Chase and Ralston had blustered in and stayed, acting as if they had every right, with the servants being perfectly delighted to have someone to tend again.
    He and Ralston were immersed in an idyllic, fantastical adventure.
    Chase was carrying on like the rich libertine he would have been had his father wed his mother. He had delicious food to eat, fine wine to drink, and loose concubines to satisfy his every wicked desire. He was being showered with all the pampering a fellow could tolerate. He couldn’t predict how long it would last. Probably until a new owner arrived to shoo him out.
    But until that happened, England seemed very far away, like a vision in his imagination. He knew he should go home, that he had to go back someday, but not yet.
    Not quite yet.
    Sister Faithful, with her British accent and familiar habits, had brought uncomfortable realizations winging toward him. That was why he’d been so rude to her. He didn’t want her intruding, didn’t want to be reminded of his peculiar and precarious situation.
    If he had his way, it would continue on forever, and he wasn’t about to let Sister Faithful and her troubles interfere.
    He dipped down to wet his hair, then he pushed to the surface, like Poseidon rising from the deep. He stood, water lapping at his thighs, and climbed out onto the tiles, the