“Barely an hour ago. I couldn’t bear my immolation in the coach any longer, especially on such a fine day, so I asked Lady Hareton where you were and came to meet you. Besides,” he added simply in a low tone, turning his head to speak to me alone, “I’ve missed you. I couldn’t wait to see you again.”

I was touched by the honesty of his statement. Such confessions were hard for him, after so many years locking his feelings away. “It’s only been a month.”

“Has it? Well, I’ll not make any foolish comments about it seeming like a year, but it does seem considerably longer than a month.”

His tone was conversational. No one who wasn’t within earshot would have realised he was not merely passing the time of day with me. I didn’t think Tom, leading his horse behind us, heard. He had his hands full with the animal now the blacksmith had done his job. The horse champed at the bit, longing for something more exciting than a sedate walk.

At last, after what seemed like an age, we reached the end of the street and took the road to the Manor. We didn’t live far from the village, a problem for James’s development plans for the house, but the architect had promised to come up with a solution for him. The hill at the end of the street obscured the view to our house, and mature trees surrounded it, so at least we were not overlooked.

Georgiana had taken to Gervase, and he behaved with great gallantry towards her, indulging her desire to flirt. When he saw his sister’s attempts, Tom snorted, and then tried to turn it into a cough. “She’s trying her wings with every man who comes her way these days.”

By mutual consent, Richard and I dropped back to walk with him. I let my hand fall from Richard’s arm, to take his hand in a less formal pose. To touch him, skin to skin. He gripped it and threaded his fingers between mine. Tom saw the gesture, but didn’t comment.

“It’s natural to flirt at eighteen. And Georgiana has been sheltered. Most girls are out by seventeen at the latest.”

“I don’t remember you ever doing such things. Not until—oh, Lord—” Tom broke off when he remembered. The jingle of the harness filled the sudden silence.

“Drury.” Richard’s mouth set hard. Tom didn’t know what Drury had tried to do to me at Hareton, but Richard had nearly killed him for it.

Tom was confused by his slip, his reference to my previous would-be lover. “I’m sorry, my lord, I shouldn’t have said anything, but I’ve known Rose forever, and I told her it would come to no good.”

“I wish she’d listened to you,” Richard replied.

This accord seemed to put Tom more at his ease. “She never said what happened. Not properly.” He gave the reins a little tug when his steed found an attractive patch of grass.

I didn’t want to explain to him. I still felt that some of it was my fault.

Richard’s hand tightened around mine. “He offered Rose behaviour that was far from acceptable.”

Tom nodded. “I thought he might be that sort. He was the curate here, you know, and he seemed to spend all his time in the homes of eligible young women. I can only be thankful Georgiana was too young for him.”

“She’s extremely fortunate in that.” Richard turned his head to me, his concern evident in his eyes. “I’m afraid we might come across the Drurys again. Julia’s father has forgiven her, and they are living in his house. They may wish to re-enter society. I thought I must tell you,” he added, as he saw the dread in my expression, “but you are not to let that concern you. He will not be allowed near you.”

I smiled tentatively in reply, but I was not entirely reassured, as I knew Steven was a schemer and I had every reason to suppose he held a grudge.

Tom made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat, and Richard turned to look at him, one eyebrow delicately arched. “Beg pardon, my lord. I’m glad the man is away from here, though. If you need any help dealing with him, I’m your man.”

“Thank you,” said Richard gravely. “I’ll remember that.” Some of the wariness they showed towards each other thawed in the grim smiles they exchanged.

Chapter Three

We parted at the house. Tom shook hands with Richard and Gervase. “My mother is having people to dinner tomorrow night. I’m sure she’d love it if you could come.”

“Delighted,” said Richard promptly.

Tom gestured vaguely across the fields. “We live at Peacock’s, a mile or two over the hill. I usually walk, because it’s longer by road.”

“I think we might take the carriage.” Richard swept a bow over Georgiana’s hand, and she took her leave with her brother, after turning to bestow a winsome smile on Gervase.

We watched Tom and Georgiana walk up the hill towards their house, and then we turned to go in. The Manor stood in front of us, sturdily foursquare; the sort of house that brooked no dallying with fancy columns and curlicues. Its creamy stonework was clean and scrubbed, like everything and everyone inside. Martha was a good manager.

The front door opened and Martha came outside with the children to greet us. My sister Ruth, sweet sixteen and practising to be a heartbreaker, had not yet seen