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Payne here.’

      Ashley instantly tensed, expecting his demands and threats to be renewed. ‘What can I do for you, Mr. Payne?’ she said coolly, determined not to lose her temper this time no matter how provoked she was.

      He cleared his throat. ‘I was out of line yesterday, Mrs. Harcourt. Said things I didn’t mean. I’m a man who’s set in my ways and I like things to run smoothly, you know?’

      ‘Perhaps mistakes of judgement were made on both sides,’ she offered, astonished at the conciliatory tone and happy to meet it halfway.

      ‘Very upsetting. A bad day all round. I regret my behaviour with you, Mrs. Harcourt, and I hope you’ll accept my apology.’

      Incredulity billowed through Ashley’s mind. Roger had never apologised. Maybe she had overinflated Gordon Payne’s ego and it wasn’t quite so monstrous, after all. ‘Thank you, Mr. Payne,’ she said, struggling to gather her wits and say something gracious. ‘I’m sorry we couldn’t have reached a better understanding.’

      ‘I’ll put two cheques in the mail today. I presume you’ll pass Miss Kimball’s on to her.’

      ‘Yes, I will. Thank you. She’ll appreciate it.’

      ‘I don’t want any trouble.’

      ‘Neither do I, Mr. Payne.’

      ‘You’ll have no cause to bring any harassment charges against me. I promise you that.’

      Ashley’s eyebrows shot up. She hadn’t even begun to consider such a means of redress. Even if Gordon Payne had carried through on his threats, how on earth could she have proved he was behind the harassment? People like him always covered their tracks.

      ‘I’d be obliged if you’d assure Mr. Cliffton I’ve put everything he demanded in train and there’ll be no reason to get into litigation.’

      Harry?

      Enlightenment blossomed.

      Harry had overheard the threats. He was a witness. He must have gone shopping for a peaceful and fair resolution to the Gordon Payne problem, as well as food to lead her into temptation.

      Images of Harry deftly turning Gordon Payne inside out with clever arguments and putting the fear of messy legal action into him flashed through Ashley’s mind. She clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a wild giggle. She wished she’d been there to watch him run rings around the pompous power monger. It must have been a marvellous performance. A Rolls Royce definitely had the weight to buy more lawyers than a Daimler, and undoubtedly Gordon Payne respected that kind of money.

      Having sobered herself enough to speak, Ashley blithely said, ‘I’ll certainly repeat the content of this call to Mr. Cliffton.’

      ‘Thank you, Mrs. Harcourt. I won’t trouble you any further. Good day to you.’

      Ashley put the receiver down and laughed out loud, joy and relief bubbling through her amusement. She felt like dancing. Harry had done it again! The dragon had been slain by her irrepressible white knight. Was it any wonder that she was in danger of falling in love with him? If he kept on righting the wrongs in her world…

      But what if he saw it as simply settling her affairs, smoothing the path for her to wind up her business without any hassles before leaving it behind? That was part of his mission, wasn’t it? This act of gallantry might not be inspired by any personal wish for her well-being at all.

      On the other hand, she was very grateful for the outcome, so why should she quibble about motives? She snatched up the telephone and dialled Cheryn Kimball’s number, delighted that she could pass on some good news and brighten Cheryn’s day.

      Despite the many question marks in her mind, Ashley could not repress her high spirits when Harry and William arrived home from their shopping trip. She heard the Rolls Royce purr to a halt and hurried out of the office to open the front door for them. Harry and William emerged from the back seat, Harry using his silver-tipped walking cane with elegant panache as he stepped out, his beautiful three-piece suit stamping him as a man of class, William following, happily clutching a bag emblazoned with the toy shop logo.

      Ashley moved out to the porch, eyeing her son with exasperation. ‘William, I told you… .’

      ‘I didn’t ask, Mum,’ he expostulated. ‘Mr. Cliffton said we couldn’t have a proper war game without model cannons and cavalry. It was his idea. I just showed him where they could be bought.’

      ‘Led him there by the hand, did you?’

      ‘Aw, come on, Mum. Mr. Cliffton doesn’t need leading. He’s the smartest man I know.’ William broke into a run. ‘I’ll duck upstairs and put these away. Then I can help the chauffeur with the other shopping bags.’

      Such virtue was highly suspicious, but Ashley let it pass. She looked at the smartest man William knew and was inclined to agree with her son. Harry’s mouth was twitching with amusement as William bolted past his mother. His blue eyes danced with mischief.

      ‘I don’t suppose you’d know anything about the cavalry arriving in Gordon Payne’s office this morning,’ she said archly. ‘I got the impression that a few cannons were fired there, as well.’

      ‘I love cavalry charges. Did you know in the Battle of—

      ‘Let me guess. One of your ancestors led it.’

      ‘No. He blew the bugle.’

      ‘As you did with Gordon Payne.’

      He grinned. ‘It seemed like a good tune to play.’

      Ashley couldn’t help laughing. ‘It worked. The enemy has been routed, and the money is in the mail.’

      ‘A celebratory lunch is in order?’

      ‘It certainly is. And thank you, Harry, both for Cheryn and myself. You’re a great bugle player.’

      He laughed, and a sweet harmony danced between them, dispelling the defensive reservations Ashley had meant to hold. Harry was a prince amongst men, and there was simply no sense in dimming the pleasure he brought into her life.

      They had a positively sinful lunch. Moet and Chandon champagne, cold lobster and an array of exotic salads, plus a selection of temptations from a French patisserie. William made short work of a large slice of chocolate mud cake. Ashley succumbed to an exquisite mille-fleur. Harry produced everything with irresistible flair, and it would have been absurdly churlish to stand on some independent dignity in the face of such treats.

      Last but not least, he presented Ashley with a box of Belgian chocolates. ‘To help pass the time sweetly in your office this afternoon,’ he said with a smile that would have charmed the stoniest heart.

      By this time, Ashley’s heart was well and truly under siege. She retreated to the safe confines of her office, which was the sensible thing to do, but she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling it was a stupid waste of time. How long would she have Harry in her life?

      She found it impossible to settle to any productive work. Her mind kept wandering to what she could be doing with Harry—lazing the afternoon away on the beach, showing him some of the scenic beauty spots on the central coast, revelling in his sparkling company.

      She wondered how he would look stripped down to a brief pair of swimming trunks. It occurred to her that his skin should be very pale, particularly since he had come from an English winter, yet it wasn’t. Where had he got the light golden tan that gave his face and hands such a warm glow of vitality?

      Perhaps he accompanied the master of Springfield Manor to the Caribbean to escape the cold. Ashley could well imagine Harry arranging vacations he would find attractive. She suspected he organized quite a lot to suit himself, then used his persuasive powers to make others feel pleased he had gone to so much trouble for them.

      A clever manipulator. She mustn’t forget that. Under-neath all the charm, there burned a steady, relentless and ruthless purpose.

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