Alex had a sudden image of Neville Cross. He’d been a handsome, fair-haired lad. Always kind, despite the cruelty all around him. His head had been bleeding when Alex pulled him from the water. He’d been unconscious. Had looked as if he were dead.

“Do something!” Alex had cried, coughing and sputtering as he collapsed on the beach. “He’s still alive!”

Tom Finchley had stood there, white-faced. So had Justin Thornhill, his clothing soaked through. It was Justin who’d gone in after Neville first. Always the hero. Always doing the exact right thing.

It had made no difference in the end.

“I don’t know,” Alex said. “I haven’t seen him in twenty years or more.”

Laura gave her hair a cursory comb before twisting it into a thick roll at her nape and securing it with several pins. It was the practiced, no-nonsense action of a lady who was used to looking after herself. “Why not?”

Another shrug. “One grows up.”

She flashed him one of her all-too-perceptive looks as she anchored the final pin into her hair.

“And I’m not afraid of the sea,” he added. “I merely prefer to stay out of it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being afraid.”

He gave her a wry smile. “Awake less than ten minutes and you already presume to lecture me?”

“I’m not lecturing you. If I was, it certainly wouldn’t be on the topic of sea bathing.”

His brows lifted in enquiry.

A faint flush of color rose in Laura’s cheeks. “Why do you wish to marry Henrietta? Is it purely because of her fortune?”

The question took him off his guard. He endeavored not to show it. “Do you think her entirely devoid of charm?”

“No. I think she’s beautiful. Probably the most beautiful lady in Surrey.”

He almost laughed. She could say that, when she was sitting in front of him, looking like an enchanted princess come to life? His water nymph. The lady who haunted his dreams—who was, even now, threatening to upend all of his carefully laid plans. “Not the most beautiful, surely.”

She didn’t react to the compliment. No doubt she thought it was as false as all the rest of him. “I also know her to be generous,” she said. “And quite accomplished. Far more so than I am.”

“In other words, she can play and sing and embroider the requisite number of seat cushions.”

“Don’t mock.”

“I’m not mocking. Only acknowledging that I recognize her personal attributes—”

“Her many personal attributes.”

“Recognize them and discount them. For my purposes, they mean nothing.” He hesitated before admitting, “It’s the estate I’m after.”

“Edgington Park?” Laura’s brow furrowed. “It is grand, but nothing very special, I shouldn’t think. Does it hold a particular attraction for you?”