shell, not even for me. “I’m obliged to you, ma’am. I had never looked upon Miss Golightly as merely my mistress before. I’m afraid I must inform you that your mother might be mistaken on this point. I can think of many men who have made wives of their mistresses. It depends entirely on the quality of the woman.”

He crossed the room with measured grace, lifted my hand and placed it firmly on his arm. “If a man should unfortunately find himself shackled to a woman like yourself, with no refinement, no conversation, no discretion, then he may be forced to look elsewhere for friendship and companionship.”

He moved, and I had to walk with him, and leave the room.

In the corridor, I didn’t speak, and he stood still. An expression of polite indifference masked his anger from anyone who might see us. He breathed deeply, then he looked at me and his face cleared. His eyes had lost that icy, cold edge. I breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m all right now. I’m sorry she overheard, but there’s no harm done. If she does spread any rumours, it will be to her own detriment, I’ll see to it. Otherwise, you mustn’t let this little incident spoil your enjoyment of the whole evening. Promise me?” He took my hand to his lips, while he looked at my face, waiting for my promise.

I could do little else. I promised, and did my best to forget, but when we saw Miss Terry later, it was only as she was leaving with her parents, after she had declared she had a headache. I couldn’t say anything. I’d always disliked her, and if I came out with any excuses for her they would have sounded as hollow as they really were. Besides, Miss Terry was part of the world I was leaving behind. In three weeks I would be alone with my new husband and my new life. I longed for that day.

Chapter Twelve

The following Monday it dawned bright and clear, so we decided to ride down to the coast, a large group of us as it turned out. Richard, Gervase, Lizzie, Ruth and I, and Tom and Georgiana volunteered to come on the expedition. When I went down to the hall, I found Richard waiting for me.

He frowned when he saw my new riding habit. “Brown isn’t your colour. If you’ll allow me, I’ll order one for you from town. In any case, I owe you a riding habit.” I didn’t understand at first, but when he saw my look of puzzlement, he enlightened me. “The day of the accident,” he prompted.

I closed my eyes and I saw it all. The blood, all of it Richard’s, and I remembered the rust-coloured stains on the riding habit I’d worn. I shuddered at the memory, but opened my eyes when I felt his touch on my arm. “I’m fine. I remembered your accident and what I might have lost.”

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I knew it still upset you.”

“It doesn’t, not really.” I managed a smile. “And yes, you do owe me a riding habit.” I put my hand through the crook of his arm and we went off to the stables.

James always kept a fine stable, as befitted a country gentleman and the building here rivalled the Manor itself for floor space. Richard and Gervase’s horses had arrived, and settled down well, so Bennett, Richard’s groom, told him. The stables formed an angular u-shape around the cobbled yard, and everything was orderly and clean. James wouldn’t have it any other way. The horses stood, saddled, with a groom at the head of each, all patiently waiting for us, except for one.

Richard’s horse was, of course, a thoroughbred, a pretty chestnut, but Gervase’s was a monster, a great bay animal called Nighthawk, which only Gervase could control. I’d seen him mounted on Nighthawk before, and thought then that he must have wrists of steel. Mine looked as though it came from a different race of creature, a dainty mare, but she was nervous in Nighthawk’s presence, skittering to the side to avoid the great bay. The groom led her to the other side of the yard, and Richard accompanied me, helping me into the side-saddle himself before he went back to the centre of the yard and mounted his own horse. His touch was strong and sure, better than any groom.

I was forced to keep my mare away from Nighthawk until she became more accustomed to his presence, but Gervase’s control over his mount was absolute, and she was in no danger. Lizzie always rode placid animals, and the one she rode today was no exception. It wasn’t that she didn’t have a good seat; on the contrary, but she liked a mount on which she could display herself to advantage, without worrying about the animal’s reliability.

We rode the short distance to Peacock’s, a journey I’d made countless times before. Tom and his sister Georgiana waited in the courtyard for us, already mounted, so we went off straightaway.

Tom, who considered himself a connoisseur of horseflesh, admired Gervase’s mount immensely. “I was lucky to get him,” Gervase told Tom. “I had to bid way above the usual price for him, but I saw we were meant for each other, so I had him.”

Sometimes I forgot exactly how rich Gervase was. I don’t think even he knew precisely, but as far as I could gather, he’d taken many risks for it and deserved every penny.

I wondered how to deter Georgiana, who admired both of the brothers, but I decided the best way would probably be to let