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last.”
    “Perhaps. But I have plans for that Hampstead land.”
    “You’ll find somewhere else.”
    “Your confidence is reassuring.”
    “I can’t see a clever man like Elias being poor forever.”
    “I admit I was struck with his acumen when he worked with Cam on that canal scheme. And he’s quick to find possibilities in new ideas. I hear he’s involved in using steam to power transport.”
    Sidonie’s smile was wry. “Be careful. You’ll talk yourself into agreeing with me.”
    A short laugh escaped him. “The Thornes are reckless by nature. Elias’s dabbling in science could merely be another symptom of inherited rashness, like Peter’s gambling.”
    She sighed and dropped in a discouraged slump onto the window seat. “I like Elias. I like Marianne. She needs a chance to discover who she really is. Her father’s brought her up to be the feminine ideal. Quiet. Calm. Biddable.”
    A smile tugged at Jonas’s lips. “You make her sound a complete bore.”
    Sidonie didn’t smile back. “I fear if she marries Desborough, boredom is all her future holds. You have to admit she was amazingly brave when Cam married Pen.”
    “Cam and Pen are meant for one another. They always were. Even a thickheaded fellow like me can see that.”
    “But in finding one another, they hurt Marianne.”
    He shifted to sit beside her. “You want everyone to have a happy ending.”
    This time she did smile and when he took her hand, she leaned her ruffled dark head on his shoulder. Her sweet scent filled his senses and he kissed her crown.
    “Of course I do.” She paused. “Do you really want me to ask Elias to leave?”
    “You could.” It was his turn to pause as he stared into the pretty room, his mind working through strategies and consequences. “Now you’ve set up your pieces, my love, let’s leave the game’s outcome to fate.”
    “Thank you,” Sidonie whispered, placing her hand on his heart, the heart that was eternally hers. “I wonder what on earth Marianne will think when she sees Elias.”
    * * *
    Marianne thought that a malicious fate was set on tormenting her into screaming insanity.
    What in the name of heaven was Elias Thorne doing in Wiltshire? Astonished, she glared at him. She’d hoped that awkward, humiliating encounter in London meant an end to this torture. Seeing him was so unfair when she’d finally put aside all her forbidden hopes, when she’d steeled herself to reject his proposal, when she’d struggled so hard to reconcile herself to becoming Lady Desborough.
    “Lord Wilmott,” she said, her voice chillier than the air in this isolated copse. Inside, she wasn’t cold at all, but furious. How dare he pursue her to the country when he must know he was the last man she wanted to meet?
    A break in the weather had allowed her to escape the house. She’d been frantic for some privacy, particularly from her father. He hadn’t taken today’s news of her delay accepting Desborough well. He’d hectored her and played upon her affection until her head ached and she was tempted to give in purely for the sake of peace.
    She’d wandered disconsolately through Ferney’s woods before curiosity had drawn her onto the grounds of Barstowe Hall. Now she wished she’d stayed home with her embroidery, despite the prospect of another parental lecture.
    Here her other bugbear leaned against a beech tree, wearing an elegant blue coat and looking as smug as a well-fed cat. Temper had her brandishing her closed umbrella before him like a weapon. She was so heartily sick of the male of the species that she didn’t care if she looked unhinged. Even males whose sheer beauty set her wayward heart somersaulting.
    Why must this scheming rogue possess that flashing masculine appeal that turned women silly? She strove to recall that this morning she’d thought Lord Desborough an attractive man. Unfortunately, his distinguished air couldn’t compete with Elias’s dark fascination.
    “That’s a poor