A Wicked Persuasion. Catherine George

hair.

      She smiled at him serenely. ‘Hi.’ She looked up at the façade of windows as he led her to the door. ‘What a lovely house.’

      He turned to the woman hurrying to join them. ‘My sister,’ James informed his guest. ‘Moira, this is Harriet Wilde.’

      ‘Welcome, Harriet.’ Moira smiled warmly as she took the sheaf of flowers her guest handed her. ‘How lovely, thank you. Come on in. We’re all out here. My husband will give you a drink while I see to the flowers.’

      All? Harriet followed her hostess across a wide hall and into a conservatory looking out over the back garden. A large smiling man got to his feet, followed by two young women, one with opulent curves and sheets of straight blonde hair, the other a less spectacular brunette.

      ‘Marcus Graveney,’ said her host, shaking her hand. ‘These are my stepsisters, Claudia and Lily.’

      ‘Hi,’ said the sultry Claudia without enthusiasm, leaving Lily to make up for it with the sincere warmth of her greeting.

      Marcus gave Harriet the glass of tonic she chose, and led her to one of the comfortable cane chairs. ‘James says you’re a native of these parts.’

      She nodded. ‘I’m an accountant with Barlow & Greer in the town.’

      Claudia made a face. ‘Isn’t that deadly dull?’

      ‘It would be for you,’ said James indulgently.

      ‘A closer relationship with figures wouldn’t do you any harm, Miss, dull or not,’ said her brother.

      ‘Do you enjoy your job?’ asked Lily.

      ‘Yes,’ said Harriet with truth. ‘It’s a very busy practice, and I meet a lot of interesting people in the course of my work.’

      ‘It’s good of you to spare the time to come this evening,’ said James as he sat down next to Claudia.

      ‘I often dine with clients as part of the job,’ Harriet assured him.

      ‘Surely you’re not going to talk business over dinner, James,’ said Claudia, pouting.

      ‘Not over the meal.’ He slid a consoling arm round her waist. ‘I’ll borrow your study for a few moments afterwards if I may, Marcus. Harriet and I can have our talk in there without boring your sisters.’

      Moira Graveney was a cook of considerable skill, and in other circumstances Harriet would have enjoyed the meal and the lively conversation, during which she learned that Marcus had recently joined the legal chambers near her offices in Broad Street. But with James’s arm brushing hers from time to time, and waves of hostility sizzling across the table from Claudia, it was a relief when Moira finally suggested they all adjourn to the conservatory for coffee.

      ‘Harriet and I will have ours in the study, love,’ said James.

      ‘Thank you for a delicious meal, Mrs Graveney,’ said Harriet, surprised to see a look of sympathy in Moira’s distinctive hazel eyes.

      ‘Do call me Moira. But you weren’t hungry, were you?’

      ‘On a diet?’ said Claudia sweetly.

      ‘No. Just a bit tired.’

      ‘Unlike some people, lazybones, Harriet’s been slaving away all day,’ said Lily in typical sister fashion. ‘And you’re the one on a diet—not that it’s working.’

      ‘Now then, girls,’ said their brother, and waved them away. ‘You carry on, James. I’ll send coffee in for you.’

      James led Harriet to a very masculine panelled room. ‘This is Marcus’s retreat, where sermons were written in the past. When they moved here shortly after their marriage earlier this year, a study was his top priority. Moira’s was the large garden we never had when we were young.’

      Harriet sat down in the big leather chair he held out for her and got to the point. ‘So have you brought me in here to read me a sermon, James?’

      He held up a hand and went to the door to let in Claudia with a tray. ‘Thanks, sweetheart.’

      She reached up and tapped his cheek with a red-tipped finger. ‘Don’t be long.’

      Harriet smiled politely as James handed her a cup of coffee. ‘Thank you. So what did you want to talk about?’

      He sat behind the desk, the dark-rimmed hazel irises spearing hers. ‘No sermon, but I want some information before I meet your father—for the first time, incidentally, even though he tried to get me sacked from Combe Computers. Does he know who he’s dealing with?’

      Harriet raised an eyebrow. ‘Tried?’

      He nodded. ‘George Lassiter didn’t actually sack me all those years ago, Harriet. He merely transferred me up to his Newcastle outfit, which got me far away from you, as your father wanted, but kept me very firmly on George’s payroll. He even gave me a rise. I was really good at my job, remember. Or had you forgotten?’

      ‘No. I hadn’t forgotten.’ Anything. She looked at him steadily. ‘I haven’t told my father who you are other than the client paying good money to hire River House for a party.’

      He eyed her grimly. ‘So when I introduce myself he might cancel the whole idea!’

      Harriet shook her head. ‘It’s all signed and sealed. My father can’t back out.’ Nor would he if it meant losing such easy money.

      ‘When Ms Brewster suggested River House as a location I thought I was hearing things.’ James’s smile sent shivers down her spine. ‘It was just too good to pass up.’

      ‘For payback?’

      ‘What else?’ He frowned. ‘Yet you don’t actually live in the house any more. What the devil are you doing alone at the Lodge?’

      ‘I wanted a place of my own.’

      ‘I can understand that, but if that was your goal why not live down in the town? Or couldn’t you bear to be too far away from Daddy?’ When she made no response to that he eyed her curiously. ‘I thought you’d be married by now.’

      ‘Ditto!’

      He shook his head. ‘After the treatment you dished out, Miss Wilde, I gave up on relationships and concentrated on the really important things in life—success and money.’

      ‘With spectacular results. I congratulate you.’ She stood up. ‘If that’s all you wanted I’ll go home now, and let you get back to Claudia.’

      He laughed. ‘She’s jealous as hell of you, Harriet.’

      She eyed him blankly. ‘Really? Why?’

      ‘I told her that you and I had a fling together once upon a time.’

      ‘A fling?’ she said with distaste.

      He raised a mocking eyebrow. ‘How else would you describe something so unimportant?’

      She dropped her eyes. ‘I never thought of it that way.’

      ‘I’m surprised you ever thought of it at all!’ he said caustically.

      ‘Are you?’ She looked at her watch. ‘I really must go. Does ten on Saturday work for you?’

      ‘Perfectly.’ He opened the door for her.

      Harriet caught a whiff of soap and expensive wool as she passed him; and something else that was so familiar and singularly James she felt dizzy.

      ‘Hey,’ he said quickly, ‘are you all right?’

      She forced a smile. ‘Too much coffee, and too many late nights.’

      ‘You’re as white as a sheet,’ he said roughly. ‘Let me drive you home. I’ll get your car back to you tomorrow.’

      ‘No!