"It's all right," Leo interrupted. "No need to be defensive, Marks. God knows I wouldn't think of interfering with Merripen's plans after seeing all he's done so far." He glanced at the housekeeper. "If you'll point the way, Mrs. Barnstable, I'll go out and find Merripen. Perhaps I might help to unload the timber wagon."

"A footman will show you the way," the housekeeper said at once. "But the work is occasionally hazardous, my lord, and not fitting for a man of your station."

Miss Marks added in a light but caustic tone, "Besides, it is doubtful you could be of any help."

The housekeeper's mouth fell open.

Win had to bite back a grin. Miss Marks had spoken as if Leo were a small weed of a man instead of a strapping six-footer.

Leo gave the governess a sardonic smile. "I'm more physically capable than you suspect, Marks. You have no idea what lurks beneath this coat."

"I am profoundly grateful for that."

"Miss Hathaway," the housekeeper broke in hurriedly, trying to smooth over the conflict, "may I show you to your room?"

"Yes, thank you." Hearing her sisters' voices, Win turned to see them entering the hall along with Mr. Rohan.

"Well?" Amelia asked with a grin, spreading her hands to indicate their surroundings.

"Lovely beyond words," Win replied.

"Let's freshen ourselves and brush off the travel dust, and then I'll take you around."

"I'll only be a few minutes."

Win went to the staircase with the housekeeper. "How long have you been employed here, Mrs. Barnstable?" she asked as they ascended to the second floor.

"A year, more or less. Ever since the house became habitable. I had previously been employed in London, but the old master passed on to his reward, and the new master dismissed most of the staff and replaced them with his own. I was in desperate need of a position."

"I'm sorry to hear that. But very pleased for the Hathaways' sake."

"It has been a challenging undertaking," the housekeeper said, "putting together a staff and training them all. I will confess I had a few trepidations, given the unusual circumstances of this position. But Mr. Merripen was very persuasive."

"Yes," Win said absently, "it is difficult to say no to him."

"He has a strong and steady presence, that Mr. Merripen. I've often marveled to see him in the center of a dozen simultaneous undertakings-the carpenters, the painters, the blacksmith, the head groomsman, all clamoring for his attention. And he always keeps a cool head. We can scarcely do without him. He is the fixed point of the estate."

Win nodded morosely, glancing into the rooms they passed. More cream paneling, and light cherry furniture, and upholsteries of soft-colored velvets rather than the gloomy dark shades that were currently fashionable. She thought it a pity that she would never be able to enjoy this house except for occasional visits.

Mrs. Barnstable took her to a beautiful room with windows overlooking the gardens. "This is yours," the housekeeper said. "No one has occupied it before." The bed was made of light blue upholstered panels, the bedclothes of white linen. There was a graceful lady's writing desk in the corner, and a satin maple wardrobe with a looking glass set in the door.

"Mr. Merripen personally selected the wallpaper," Mrs. Barnstable said. "He nearly drove the interior architect mad with his insistence on seeing hundreds of samples until he found this pattern."

The wallpaper was white, with a delicate pattern of flowering branches. And at sparse intervals, there was the motif of a little robin perched on one of the twigs.

Slowly Win went to one of the walls and touched one of the birds with her fingertips. Her vision blurred.

During her long recuperation from the scarlet fever, when she had grown tired of holding a book in her hands and no one had been available to read to her, she had stared out the window at a robin's nest in a nearby maple tree. She had watched the fledglings hatch from their blue eggs, their bodies pink and veined and fuzzy. She had watched their feathers grow in, and she had watched the mother robin working to fill their ravenous beaks. And Win had watched as, one by one, they had flown from the nest while she remained in bed.

Merripen, despite his fear of heights, had often climbed a ladder to wash the second-floor window for her. He had wanted her view of the outside world to be clear.

He had said the sky should always be blue for her.

"You're fond of birds, Miss Hathaway?" the housekeeper asked.

Win nodded without looking around, afraid that her face was red with unexpressed emotion. "Robins especially," she half-whispered.

"A footman will bring your trunks up soon, and one of the maids will unpack them. In the meantime, if you would like to wash, there is fresh water at the wash-stand."

"Thank you." Win went to the porcelain pitcher and basin and sluiced clumsy handfuls of cooling water on her face and throat, heedless of the drips that fell onto her bodice. Blotting her face with a cloth, she felt only momentary relief from the aching heat that had suffused her.

Hearing the creak of a floorboard, Win turned sharply. Merripen was at the threshold, watching her. The damnable flush wouldn't stop. She wanted to be on the other side of the world from him. She wanted never to see him again. And at the same time her senses pulled him in greedily… the sight of him in an open-throated shirt, white linen clinging to the nutmeg tan of his skin… the short dark layers of his hair, the scent of his exertions reaching her prickling nostrils. The sheer size and presence of him paralyzed her with need. She wanted the taste of his skin against her lips. She wanted to feel the throb of his pulse against her own. If only he would come to her just as he was, this moment, and crush her onto the bed with his hard, heavy body, and take her. Ruin her.

"How was the journey from London?" he asked, his face expressionless.

"I'm not going to make pointless conversation with you." Win went to the window and focused blindly on the dark woodland in the distance.

"Is the room to your liking?"

She nodded without looking at him.

"If there is anything you need-"

"I have everything I need," she interrupted. "Thank you."

"I want to talk to you about the other-"

"That's quite all right," she said, managing to sound composed. "You don't need to come up with excuses about why you didn't offer for me."

"I want you to understand-"

"I do understand. And I've already forgiven you. Perhaps it will ease your conscience to hear that I'll be much better off this way."

"I don't want your forgiveness," he said curtly.

"Fine, you're not forgiven. Whatever pleases you." She couldn't bear to be alone with him for another moment. Her heart was breaking; she could feel it fracturing. Putting her head down, she began to walk past his motionless form.

Win didn't intend to stop. But before she crossed the threshold, she halted within arm's length of him. There was one thing she wanted to tell him. The words would not be contained.

"Incidentally," she heard herself say tonelessly, "I went to visit a London doctor yesterday. A highly respected one. I told him my medical history, and I asked if he would evaluate my general state of health." Aware of the intensity of Merripen's gaze, Win continued evenly. "In his professional opinion, there is no reason I shouldn't have children if I want them. He said there is no guarantee for any woman that childbirth will be free of risk. But I will lead a full life. I will have marital relations with my husband, and God willing, I will become a mother someday." She paused, and added in a bitter voice that didn't sound at all like her own, "Julian will be so pleased when I tell him, don't you think?"

If the jab had pierced through Merripen's guard, there was no sign of it. "There is something you need to know about him," Merripen said quietly. "His first wife's family-the Lanhams-suspect he had something to do with her death."