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“Is my grandmother a duchess?” She grinned at him.

“What’s in the basket?” he asked.

“Willow herb. Do you mind my foraging in your woods?”

“Your grandmother’s woods?”

“But you don’t want to be tripping over me … us on every path.”

“Actually, you’ve made yourself invisible of late, and I wonder, what did I do to offend you?”

“Nothing.” She studied the path, as if it held deep secrets, and he wanted her to look at him again with her usual frank openness.

“But you’ve kept your distance.”

She gave a quick shrug. “You had everything in hand. You didn’t need me looking over your shoulder.”

“Still,” he said, “there were times I could have used your opinion. I may have misjudged in the morning room, I think. The green-striped damask on the walls there might be a bit overpowering.”

She spun to look at him, and he tried to maintain his gravity at the expression of horror on her face. It was too much and he burst out laughing.

“Oh, you are having me on.” Her face changed again, and he almost caught his breath at the sudden prettiness of her, the smoothness of her cheek, the clear gray of her eyes, the perfect point of her heart-shaped chin.

“Am I?” he asked. “You won’t know unless you come to the hall.”

“What? Now? I interrupted. You were on your way … somewhere.”

“To make a circuit of the grounds. Will you walk with me? You could point out the beauties of Verwood. I want to know what to show my … guests.”

“Have you invited some guests?”

“I’m making a list.”

She straightened and resettled the basket over her arm, and he sensed that he’d kept her as long as he could. “You should take them to the ice house. It’s in the loveliest part of the woods and not far.”

“You won’t take a peek at the new ceiling in the great hall.”

“No.”

“But you promise to come to my ball. I won’t take no for an answer.”

She gave him a sad smile. “I think you must. Good day, Sir Adrian.”

Chapter Twelve

The day of Mrs. Montford’s expedition to the nearby Roman ruins promised to be warm, and Raven was glad of an early start. The party made something of a parade with the ladies in carriages and the gentlemen riding. The dowager duchess, Miss Thornhill, Lady Cassandra, and a widow, Mrs. Duncan, rode in Her Grace’s elegant yellow barouche. Mrs. Duncan and her son, a solicitor of forty-five, widowed like his mother, were the Montford’s neighbors. In the Montford carriage were Mrs. Montford, her daughter Miranda, eighteen, and her sons, Henry, eleven, and Charles, nine. Behind the carriages came a wagon of picnic hampers and servants. Seven miles of pleasant road were accomplished in little over two hours so that they arrived at the Ruggles farm before the heat became oppressive. Mr. Ruggles, the farmer met them at his gate and showed them a shaded spot where the carriages and horses could be kept. There was an oak-studded hill to ascend to an overlook of the old Roman town.

Raven dismounted, and while he assisted the duchess and her party, the Montford boys leapt from their mother’s carriage and charged up the hill, oblivious of their mother’s cry to wait. Their father directed a stern admonition to the boys’ backs not to descend to the ruins without the whole party. Raven had a brief word with Lady Cassandra and a touch of her hand in his before the party fell into three groups, two of picnickers and one of the servants with their burdens. Raven had only an instant to wonder how Lady Cassandra would manage with her foot before he was claimed by his hosts and their daughter.

From the top of the hill, Farmer Ruggles pointed out remains of the old Roman town that lay at the edge of his fields. It had once had four gates, a grid of streets, and beyond the town the round grass-covered mound of an old amphitheater. The antiquarians had uncovered the crumbled outlines in brick and cement of the walls of several buildings. The tallest of the old walls, more than thirty feet high, jutted straight out from the hillside with a series of arched niches. In the southeast corner of the site, a barnlike structure had been erected, which, Ruggles explained, covered a mosaic floor, and housed finds of Roman artifacts.

While Mr. Montford asked about the dates of the town and its likely connection to other Roman settlements, the two boys chased each other around the hilltop, waving sticks like swords. When the servants arrived with the picnic, Mrs. Montford turned her attention to directing their efforts, and Ruggles invited them all to descend. The duchess waved them on, and Miss Thornhill and widowed Mrs. Duncan stayed behind to assist. The boys raced straight down the hill and into the grid of streets, while their elders wound their way down a twisting path.

Raven found himself paired with Miss Montford. Ahead of him on the path, Lady Cassandra made her way unassisted down the hill.

“I hope my father didn’t bore you,” Miss Montford said. “He can prose on about his antiquities.”

“Not at all.” Raven offered his hand to help her over a rocky patch.