“Yes I am. I asked what you thought you were doing to that lawn.”

“I’m digging it up,” she explained patiently. “What does it look as if I’m doing?”

“Don’t give me any cheek. Do you know how many years it took to get that lawn perfect?”

“Yes, and it’s about time somebody did something useful to it,” she countered. “It’s nice and sunny here. Ideal for vegetables.”

He gritted his teeth. “Where’s your employer?”

A faint smile that he hadn’t understood until later flitted across her curved lips. “Do you mean Mr. Ackroyd?”

“Stop playing stupid-”

“I’m not playing,” she declared innocently. “You’d be amazed how stupid I can be-when it suits me.”

If he hadn’t been so angry and upset he might have heeded the warning, but all he saw was that he was being thwarted again, something he always found intolerable, but now more than ever. “I warn you I’m losing my patience,” he growled.

She nodded. “I can see that. I don’t suppose you had much to begin with.”

“Now look-”

“Do you usually go around shouting at people like an army sergeant? Should I jump? Stand to attention? Sorry. Can’t oblige.”

“Why don’t you try a little plain civility?” he snapped.

“Why don’t you? You storm into my home and start barking orders-”

“Your home? What the devil do you mean by that?”

“It belongs to the woman my father’s going to marry, and we’re all living in it together. Is that plain enough?”

“Yes, it’s plain enough. And since we’re going in for plain speaking, it’s my turn. I take it your father is Tony Ackroyd, and the woman he’s going to marry is Elizabeth Hunter, my wife.”

Her marvelous eyes widened, and the words came rushing out of her. “Your wife? Good grief! Grating Gavin!”