A Wicked Persuasion

James thanked him formally and then followed Harriet down the steps to the main lawn to start the tour of the garden. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard her father’s car start up. It seemed certain, now, that James would keep to his decision to use River House for his party. And her father had no idea who he was, probably because he had simply erased her rebellion from his mind. Not impossible. Her father was an expert at airbrushing unpleasantness from his life.

It was a strange experience to show James round the extensive gardens he had never set foot in before. During their time together in the past she had been so determined to keep their relationship a secret she had always driven to meet him and never allowed him to take her home. His visit to the Lodge to mend her computer had been his sole time spent on the property.

‘It’s a lot bigger than I thought,’ he commented as they crossed the vast lawn. ‘A marquee will be no problem here.’

‘No. My father could have given you more details about that, but—’

‘But you wanted to get him away from me as soon as you could, in case he recognised me and cancelled the whole thing. Is it that important to you, Harriet?’

‘Yes.’ Her chin lifted proudly. ‘We need a new roof.’

‘And you’re willing to take my money to pay for it.’

‘Yes.’ She led the way up the steps to the terrace, desperate now for him to leave so she could recover from the tension of the morning. As they reached the Lodge, Harriet looked up at him in query. ‘Have you seen all you need to see?’

‘Not exactly. May I come in?’

‘Of course.’ What else could she say? She opened the door and went ahead of him into her small sitting room.

‘It looks very different in here now,’ he commented, looking round.

‘I’ve stamped my personality on it over the years.’

‘Years?’ James frowned. ‘How long have you been living here?’

‘I used it to study in as a teenager, if you remember, but since I qualified the Lodge has been my permanent home.’

‘May I sit down?’

‘Of course. Take the sofa.’ Harriet curled up on the window seat.

‘You had a desk in here,’ he observed, after a silence a shade too long for comfort.

‘It lives in my bedroom these days.’ She eyed him warily. ‘Is there anything else you need?’

‘Yes, a chat.’ James leaned back, irritatingly at ease as he dominated the room just by sitting there. ‘When I introduced myself this morning I fully expected to be run off the property. It was an anticlimax to find your father obviously didn’t know me from Adam.’

Harriet nodded. ‘I only spoke about you once in the past, when I said I was going to live with you. I just referred to you as James.’ She frowned. ‘But he must have known your full name to get your boss to fire you—or transfer you, as it turned out.’