Richard must have felt my hand stiffen on his arm when I recalled the last time we had seen them. “Miss Terry knows more than she has a right to, and she might well have told her mother, but I don’t think we should repine. What’s done is done. I have nothing to be ashamed of, and if anyone maligns you, they’ll answer to me personally.”

Mrs. Terry faced the door, and she stared at us as we went in, so I thought it highly likely she knew the gist of the conversation her daughter had overheard. Her look was hard, her pale eyes narrowed in speculation.

I was surprised to see that her husband, Mr. Norrice Terry, had decided to accompany her. Perhaps he knew, too. Mr. Terry was a large man, tall and broad. He always reminded me of the later portraits of King Henry VIII, with his small eyes and harsh expression. He could be hard on his servants and his family, and with my new knowledge, I wondered if anyone from Thompson’s was employed there. A maid from London would appeal to Mrs. Terry’s pretentious nature. Upper servants knew everything their employers did, and if they put their knowledge together, they would probably know considerably more. I would have to ask Richard if we had any Thompson’s servants in the Manor.

Richard made an elaborate bow and I curtseyed to our guests. I promised myself, as I always did when confronted with his social graces, to practise mine so he would have no need to be ashamed of me in company. Martha smiled at us, an edge of desperation in her face as we entered the room. Richard and I sat side by side on a small sofa. Richard allowed his hand to rest on mine, an indication of our status he rarely allowed himself even in public, but since we had to assume most of the company knew our devotion to each other, it seemed foolish to deny this small pleasure of contact.

Mrs. Terry’s pointed gaze went straight to our hands, and then up to our faces, where Richard’s expression of tranquil innocence confounded her, and she looked away again.

Her capacious bosom heaved a couple of times. “While it is of course charming to meet you again, my lord, we came to find out what the truth was about these dreadful rumours we have been hearing.” She addressed us rather than spoke to us, as though she was speaking at a public meeting.

“I don’t like rumour,” boomed Mr. Terry from his seat on one of Martha’s best spindle-legged chairs. “It is not a healthy state of affairs.”

“What exactly did you hear, ma’am?” asked Richard.

I noticed Miss Terry then, uncharacteristically subdued, but watching Richard’s hand on mine like a rabbit watches a snake. I felt uncomfortable under her regard, but since Richard had, I thought, noticed but refused to acknowledge it, I let my hand rest under his.

“That on an expedition to the coast—” Mrs. Terry turned to Martha momentarily, “—and why, dear Lady Hareton, people would rush to the sea quite so eagerly, when it is acres of nothing I have never understood—” then back to the company in general. “That on an expedition to the coast, you discovered the body of a poor unfortunate gamekeeper who had been brutally done away with. It is a most distressing thing, and I cannot think it the proper subject for the drawing room, but I felt it my duty to come, so my husband and I can put the minds of our employees at ease. As you know, we employ four gamekeepers on our land, and they are all most distressed by the rumours.”

“You have four gamekeepers?” Richard said in some surprise, for the Terry’s land was not particularly extensive.

“My husband likes to hunt and shoot in the summer,” Mrs. Terry replied haughtily, “I would have thought you, my lord, might sympathise with his preferences.”

Richard smiled. “I find one gamekeeper and several men under him sufficient. My father may employ a few more, but that is not my concern.”

“You have your own establishment, my lord?” asked the lady.

“I have one or two places.” He stiffened, defensive about his fiercely protected private life. “The main estate is in Oxfordshire. I’ve not up to now spent much time there, but I have sent for it to be put in order, for Rose to inspect when we return from the continent.” At least Mrs. Terry had the good sense not to ask about the honeymoon, but she put her eyebrows up at his fond use of my first name, something he rarely did in company.

He pressed my hand, and I smiled. The promise of the night ahead had sharpened my senses. I felt his nearness, smelled the citrus scent he used, mingled with hot, hard man, and my appetite for him sharpened. “Do you intend to open the house, then, my lord?” asked Mrs. Terry, her eagerness open for everybody to see. She was probably thinking of invitations to come.

“It’s entirely up to my future wife.” He looked at me and smiled, an intimate smile saying more than words could do. “If she doesn’t like it, we’ll buy somewhere else.”

“I’m sure it’s charming.” To be honest, I’d never thought of where we would settle when we came home. I was too taken up with preparations for the wedding and what lay immediately beyond it. Greatly daring, I added, “You know where I want to be.”

“Yes,” he replied, accepting it.

Martha cleared her throat. “As to the rumours you’ve heard, you’ll find they’re greatly exaggerated. I was not there myself but I understand only one body was found. While that is tragic enough, it’s not as terrible as the rumours you’ve heard.”

It was a cue