“Only because Harriet is to sit with me at breakfast.”

Harriet turned toward the wide door leading outside. “I believe I’ll eat on the terrace.”

“You can’t do that!” Mrs. Ward said, blinking. “It’s too dark and far too damp.”

Chase stood and took Harriet’s plate and set it on the table at her chair. “I promise to look away now and again. And I’ll have to get more tea eventually. You could possibly poke in a few bites at that time.”

Her chin firmed.

“Harri, sit down,” Stephen said. “The captain is just being attentive.”

She sniffed and took her chair, almost flouncing into place. “I don’t like attentive men.”

Chase raised his brows. “You’d wish me to be inattentive? How very, very odd. Most females would argue against such treatment.”

Her gaze fixed on him with cool triumph. “Really? How can you remember how most women would react to anything? You’ve no memory.”

He curled his fingers about his cup, letting the warmth travel through him. “I know it the same way I know how to put on my boots or whether or not I like eggs. Some things just seem to come to me while others remain blank.”

Mrs. Ward nodded. “It was the same way with my friend, Mrs. Billingsworth. Couldn’t remember that she had a sister, but knew word for word her recipe for calf’s-foot jelly.”

Harriet grimaced. “Mother, pray do not keep bringing up Mrs. Billingsworth. I’m certain her case was nothing like the captain’s.”

Harriet scooted in her chair a bit so that she faced away from Chase, then she picked up her fork and attacked her breakfast with an inordinate amount of relish. Chase was left smiling at her back, which was fine really. Her thin dress outlined her figure perfectly, drawing his eye to her narrow waist and rounded bottom.

Chase barely had time to enjoy her proximity for a moment later, the door opened and the housekeeper appeared. “A letter for you, Mr. Stephen.”

Stephen straightened, took the letter and glanced at it, his eyes suddenly ablaze. He unfolded a small, delicately colored note and began to read.

“I wonder who it could be from?” Sophia said to Ophelia, both of them staring at the note.

“I wager I know,” Ophelia answered. She buttered her toast, a smirk on her lips. “I wager it’s from Miss Str—”

“Hush, you two,” Harriet said, frowning at Stephen.

His expression had undergone a change. Within one moment, he went from excited to crestfallen, refolding the note with hands that trembled just the slightest bit. Chase watched, wondering what was happening.

Stephen crumpled the note in his hand and stood, his face set and pale. “We had best get to work.”

“As soon as you finish your breakfast,” Harriet said calmly. She eyed him as she cut her ham. “But first, there is one thing we must see to. The captain’s clothing is far too fine for the fields.”

Stephen rubbed a hand over his brow, then abruptly sat. “Yes, yes. I can lend him some of mine.” His gaze flickered over Chase. “We’re of the same height.”