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greeting for an old friend,” Elias said without shifting from the lichen-covered trunk. He was the most remarkably malleable man she’d ever known, fitting himself with feline grace against anything upright and solid. She bit back a waspish demand for him to stand up straight like a Christian.
    “An old friend would know when he’s not welcome,” she snapped, breathing slowly in a futile attempt to calm her heart’s mad gallop.
    A smile played with his mouth. “Old friends are always welcome.”
    Her stare was sour. “Then clearly we’re not friends.”
    With a theatrical gesture, he clapped one long-fingered hand to his chest. “You wound me.”
    Reluctantly she lowered her umbrella. Paragons of behavior did not batter annoying gentlemen, no matter how much they might like to. “What do you want?”
    His amusement receded, leaving in its place a disturbing intensity that set her belly clenching in dread. “You know what I want.”
    “My inheritance,” she retorted, refusing to betray that he made her nervous. He wouldn’t hurt her, but if he touched her, she didn’t trust herself to resist. And they were a long way from Ferney. “You’re not getting it so you may as well go back to where you came from.”
    “Barstowe Hall?”
    Horror flooded her. When she’d first seen Elias, she’d assumed he’d ridden from London. She’d been too flustered to realize that if he had, he’d traveled all night through driving rain, yet somehow emerged perfectly dry. “Did you break in?”
    His laugh held an edge. “No, my lovely goose. Sidonie invited me.”
    She bristled, wishing he wouldn’t address her as if he was genuinely fond of her when they both knew he wasn’t. “Why in the world would she do that?”
    “I’d hazard a guess that she thinks you and I belong together and she’s willing to take measures to achieve that end.”
    Marianne was famous for her unshakable poise. Now she was angry, angry enough to growl and start pacing, digging the point of her umbrella deep into the mud with every stride.
    “What unforgivable interference.” She raised her head and scowled at Elias. “I don’t know what you’ve told her—”
    As her agitation grew, Elias only became calmer. Beneath her rage lurked panic. Icy, clawing panic that she could relent, that despite Elias pursuing her for her fortune alone, she might yet take him. Pride alone held her firm. She refused to spend her life eating her heart out over a man who didn’t want her. That way lay toxic bitterness.
    But it was so much easier to remember that she couldn’t marry Elias when he was several counties away than when he stood before her in all his louche elegance.
    “Actually I’ve told her nothing.” He went on even as Marianne sucked in a relieved breath. “She’s a perceptive woman. She’s seen that I can’t keep away from you.”
    “I’d think my father’s response to your proposal would do the trick. Don’t imagine he was bluffing about cutting me off without a farthing if I marry you. He’s a stubborn man.”
    “He loves you, that’s clear.”
    “Yes, he does, but he loves having his way more.” She stopped, appalled at what she’d said, however true. “Blast you, Elias. You lure me into indiscretion.”
    This time he smiled properly and her poor heart lurched into a drunken canter. She could spend the rest of her life basking in that smile. If only he wasn’t a fortune hunter.
    “I’d certainly like to.” He regarded her thoughtfully. “And at last you’ve called me Elias.”
    She plastered on what she hoped was an indomitable expression. “That’s another indiscretion. We’re not intimates.”
    “Yes, we are.” He raised a hand to cut off the argument even she admitted that she made for propriety’s sake. “Don’t try to say anything else.”
    She stared at him in helpless despair. “Stop this.”
    “I’ve known you’re the woman for me since we met. Last Christmas, I hoped…I believed you felt the