“Captain Frakenham”—Ophelia leaned forward eagerly—“what about the Sir Roger? Do you know that dance as well?”

Harriet shifted in her chair. “Let the man eat. You may speak to him another time.”

“Oh, let them ask me what they will,” Chase said magnanimously. “I’ve nothing to hide.” Just things he couldn’t mention.

“Of course you have nothing to hide. And even if you did, you wouldn’t remember it, anyway,” she said with some asperity.

“That’s true.” He pursed his lips together. “I suppose it is possible that I committed some dire deed on my way here.”

“How do you know you didn’t commit a dire deed before that?”

“Because if I’d committed a sin prior to that, I’m sure you would never have made me welcome to begin with.”

Harriet glanced sideways at him and said under her breath, “I’m not so certain we should make you welcome now.”

He picked up his water glass and replied, “You are certainly cruel to someone whom you are supposedly in love with.”

“Perhaps I accepted your hand for your wealth. We are certainly in need of it now.”

Chase’s lips twitched. Harriet Ward pulled no punches. He rather liked that. “Wealth? But I am a sea captain. Do sea captains possess that much money? And if so, where do they get it?”

“From their trade.” Harriet used her fork to spear a bit of lettuce. “Captain Frakenham is a very wealthy man. We told the bank he was waiting on a payment from a shipment he’d made of Chinese silks.”

“You told the bank?” Chase lifted his water glass to hide his smile. “Strange. You make it sound as if I didn’t know about this supposed payment. Did you make it up?”

Her lips folded in apparent irritation. “You misunderstood me. We didn’t make up anything at all. Captain Frakenham—you—are very well off.”

She was so damned prim. His head wound must have muddled him worse than he thought, for he couldn’t help but think of ways to shake her from her complacency. Ways involving his mouth on hers, his hands on her trim waist. His body reacted to the startlingly heated idea.

“You intrigue me, Miss Ward.” He slid slightly to one side in his chair so that his knee grazed hers.

She jerked at the touch, nearly upsetting the gravy bowl. “Oh piffle!” she snapped. “Stop that, will you?”

“Harriet!” Mrs. Ward said, blinking in astonishment. “There’s no need to be upset. You didn’t spill a thing.”

Harriet’s cheeks turned scarlet. “Sorry,” she mumbled, shooting a venomous gaze at Chase.

He returned the look innocently enough as he cut the mutton that had been set on his plate.

“Captain Frakenham,” Stephen suddenly said, from where he sat down the table. “It’s jolly good to have you back.”

“Thank you.” Chase eyed the boy curiously. Though Stephen had addressed one or two comments his way, he’d hardly been enthusiastic in his welcome.

Now, however, Stephen’s smile was almost blinding. “I daresay you’ll be glad to see the improvements in the barn since you were last here.” His eyes twinkled. “You remember the barn, don’t you?”