Gardens and orchards spread before her, all delicately frosted and clean. Children played across the terrace, giggling as they raced back and forth. Hannah chuckled, watching them stream across the flagstones like a gaggle of goslings. They were playing a game of blow-the-feather, which involved two teams trying to keep a feather aloft by turns.

Standing to the side, Hannah consumed her bread and tea. The children’s antics grew ever wilder as they hopped and blew at the feather in noisy gusts and puffs. The feather drifted to her, descending lazily.

The little girls screamed in encouragement. “Blow, miss, blow! It’s girls against boys!”

After that, there was no choice. Fighting a smile, Hannah pursed her lips and exhaled sharply, sending the feather upward in a fluttering eddy. She did her part whenever the feather drifted to her, running a few steps here and there, heeding the delighted cries of her teammates.

The feather sailed over her head, and she backed up swiftly, her face upturned. But she was startled to feel herself crashing against something behind her, not a stone wall but something hard and pliant. A man’s hands closed around her arms, securing her balance.

From over her head, the man blew a puff that sent the feather halfway across the terrace.

Hooting and squealing, the children raced after it.

Hannah remained still, stunned by the collision, but even more so by the realization that she recognized the feel of Rafe Bowman. The grip of his hands, the tough-muscled length of him along her back. The clean, pungent spice of his shaving soap.

Her mouth had gone dryprobably the effects of the feather gameand she tried to moisten her inner cheeks with her tongue. “What a remarkable amount of air you are able to produce, Mr. Bowman.”

Smiling, he turned her carefully to face him. He was large and dashing, standing with that relaxed looseness that bothered her so. “Good morning to you, too.” He looked her over with an insolently thorough glance. “Why aren’t you still abed?”

“I’m an early riser.” Hannah decided to throw the audacious inquiry right back at him. “Why aren’t you?”

A playful glint shone in his eyes. “There’s no point in lingering in bed when I’m alone.”

She glanced at their surroundings to make certain none of the children could overhear. The imps had tired of their game and were filing inside the house through doors that led to the main hall. “I suspect that is a rare occurrence, Mr. Bowman.”

His bland tone disguised all sincerity. “Rare, yes. Most of the time my bed is busier than a sheepfold at spring shearing.”

Hannah viewed him with patent distaste. “That doesn’t speak well of the women you associate with. Or of you for being so indiscriminate.”

“I’m not indiscriminate. It just so happens that I’m good at finding women who meet my high standards. And I’m even better at persuading them to come to my bed.”

“And then you fleece them.”

A rueful smile crossed his lips. “If you don’t mind, Miss Appleton, I want to retract my sheep analogy. It’s becoming disagreeable even to me. Would you like to take a morning stroll?”

She shook her head in puzzlement. “With you?…Why?”

“You’re wearing a walking dress and boots. And I assume you want to find out what my opinion of Lady Natalie is. Keep your enemy close, and so forth.”

“I already know what your opinion of Lady Natalie is.”

His brows lifted. “Do you? Now I insist that we walk together. I’m always fascinated to hear my opinions.”

Hannah considered him sternly. “Very well,” she said. “First I’ll take the teacup in, and”

“Leave it.”

“On an outside table? No, someone will have to tidy up.”

“Yes. That someone is called a servant. Who, unlike you, will get a salary for it.”

“That doesn’t mean I should make more work for someone else.”

Before she could retrieve the cup, Bowman had taken it up. “I’ll take care of it.”

Hannah’s eyes widened as she saw him stroll nonchalantly to the stone balustrade. And she gasped as he held the teacup over the side and dropped it. A splintering crash sounded from below.

“There,” he said casually. “Problem solved.”

It required three attempts until Hannah could finally speak. “Why did you do that? I could easily have carried it inside!”

He seemed amused by her astonishment. “I would have thought my lack of concern for material possessions would please you.”

Hannah stared at him as if he had just sprouted horns. “I wouldn’t call that a lack of concern for material possessions, but rather a lack of respect for them. And that’s every bit as bad as overvaluing them.”

Bowman’s smile faded as he comprehended the extent of her ire. “Miss Appleton, Stony Cross Manor has at least ten different sets of china, each one with enough teacups to help caffeinate all of Hampshire. They’re not lacking for cups here.”

“That makes no difference. You shouldn’t have broken it.” Bowman gave a sardonic snort. “Have you always had such a passion for porcelain, Miss Appleton?”

Without a doubt, he was the most insufferable man she had ever encountered. “I’m sure you’ll consider it a failing that I’m not amused by wanton destruction.”

“And I’m sure,” he returned smoothly, “that you’ll use this as an excuse to avoid walking with me.”