Gemma gave a sigh of disappointment. "Oh, go on and let her out, Mr. Bing." She'd worked so hard to gain Topknot's trust and she had come a long way, but deep down she wondered if the dog would ever forgive her.

She stood and wiped her hands on the cloth at her waist before going back to her preparations. When she glanced toward the table, she saw her guest gazing at her with real curiosity. Well, that was new. Perhaps his detachment was not so complete after all.

Then he spoke spontaneously. "Shy."

He truly had mastered brevity, hadn't he? Gemma sighed and pulled the heavy iron pan onto the hottest corner of the stove. "She's better than she was. She will take food from my hand now, but she will not yet let me touch her."

"I did."

Gemma turned to stare at the man and then shot an astonished glance at Mr. Bing. Mr. Bing looked just as surprised as she did. All the animals trusted Mr. Bing, for was he not the bringer of fodder? Even the chickens thought he hung the moon. But Topknot, though she followed him everywhere, would not stand for petting even from him. Gemma fought to hide her surprise. "Well, if she takes to you, I would appreciate it if you would use a brush on her." She kept her tone off-hand and light. "She runs loose about the pastures and gets terribly tangled."

She glanced back toward the table to see that the man had returned to his perusal of the wood grain. Deciding that it wouldn't hurt to show a bit of impatience, Gemma slapped the scoop of lard down on the pan, hitting the spoon on the side with rather more force than necessary. "Now, although I thank you for your kind assistance, I really do think I deserve to know the name of the man I am about to feed."

"Lysander. Worthington."

Lysander Worthington? What a mouthful. She glanced over her shoulder at him in amusement. "That's rather a lot of syllables, for Yorkshire. No, I can't think of anyone that will actually call you by that name."

Mr. Bing shook his head with a whistle. "No, too right they won't. My grandfather's name was Bingington. But everyone called him Bing, and my father Bing, and me Bing, so now it's Bing, even on the census rolls."

Gemma nearly laughed at the puzzled look her visitor gave her. "My name?"

"We are teasing you, Mr. Worthington. It's all right. Your name is just fine."