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also have people who work directly for us, harvesting crops and raising livestock and such. It's quite a bit of work."
    Dunford smiled wryly. She was trying to scare him off. But why? He was going to have to find out a bit more about this odd woman. If she wanted a war, he'd be happy to oblige, no matter how sweetly and innocently she disguised her attacks. Leaning forward, he set out to conquer Miss Henrietta Barrett the same way he'd conquered women across Britain.
    Simply by being himself.
    He started out with another one of those devastating smiles.
    Henry didn't stand a chance.
    She thought she was made of stern stuff. She even managed to say to herself, "I am made of stern stuff," as the force of his charm washed over her. But her stuff obviously wasn't that stern because her stomach somersaulted, landed somewhere in the vicinity of her heart, and to her utter horror, she heard herself sigh.
    "Tell me about yourself, Henry," Dunford said.
    She blinked, as if suddenly waking up from a rather languorous dream. "Me? There isn't very much to tell, I'm afraid."
    "I rather doubt that, Henry. You are rather an uncommon female."
    "Uncommon? Me?" The last word came out as a squeak.
    "Well, let's see. You obviously wear breeches more than you do dresses because I've never seen a woman look less comfortable in a gown than you do tonight..."
    She knew it was the truth, but it was unbelievable how much it hurt to hear him say it.
    "Of course, it could just be that the gown does not fit you properly, or that the material is itchy..."
    She brightened a bit. The dress was four years old, and she had grown considerably during that period.
    Dunford held out his right hand as if he were counting off her eccentricities. His middle finger stretched out to join his index finger as he said, "You run a small but, from the looks of it, profitable estate and apparently have done so for the past six years."
    Henry gulped and silently ate her soup as another one of his fingers shot out.
    "You weren't frightened or even the least bit put off by what I can only describe as the most immense animal of the porcine variety I have ever seen, a sight that would send most of the women of my acquaintance into vapors, and I can only deduce that you are on a first-name basis with said animal."
    Henry frowned, not quite certain how to interpret that.
    "You have an air of command one usually sees only in men, and yet you are feminine enough not to cut your hair, which, incidentally, is quite beautiful." Another finger.
    Henry blushed at his compliment but not before she wondered if he were actually going to start in on his other hand.
    "And finally..." He stretched out his thumb. "...you answer to the unlikely name of Henry."
    She smiled weakly.
    He looked down at his hand, now splayed out like a starfish. "If that doesn't qualify you as an uncommon female, I really don't know what would."
    "Well," she began hesitantly, "perhaps I am a little odd."
    "Oh, don't call yourself odd, Henry. Let others do that, if they insist. Call yourself original. It has a much nicer ring to it."
    Original. Henry quite liked that. "His name is Porkus."
    "Excuse me?"
    "The pig. I am on a first-name basis with him." She smiled sheepishly. "His name is Porkus."
    Dunford threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, Henry," he gasped. "You are a treasure."
    "I will take that as a compliment, I think."
    "Please do."
    She took a sip of her wine, not realizing she had already drunk more than usual. The footman had been assiduously refilling her glass after nearly every sip. "I suppose I did have an unusual upbringing," she said recklessly. "That is probably why I am so different."
    "Oh?"
    "There weren't many children nearby, so I didn't get much of a chance to see what other little girls were like. Most of the time I played with the stablemaster's son."
    "And is he still at Stannage Park?" Dunford wondered if perhaps she had a lover tucked away somewhere. It seemed likely enough. She was, as they