# Miss Winbolt and the Fortune Hunter

Sylvia Andrew

Indulge your fantasies of delicious Regency Rakes, fierce Viking warriors and rugged Highlanders. Be swept away into a world of intense passion, lavish settings and romance that burns brightly through the centuriesLonely spinster to loved brideRespected spinster Miss Emily Winbolt, so cool and cynical with would-be suitors, puts her reputation at risk after tumbling into a stranger’s arms. Suddenly, bleak loneliness is replaced with a wanton, exciting sense of abandon. But Emily is an heiress, and her rescuer none other than Sir William Ashenden, a man of some distinction.He needs to marry and she yearns to believe that William wants plain, upright, suddenly reckless Emily – not for her fortune, but for herself…

‘I’ve learned to be wary. To tell the truth, I doubt now that I shall ever marry.’

She looked at Rosa with the beginning of a smile. ‘And do you know? I didn’t feel like a cool fish yesterday. That stranger’s kisses were far more exciting than any I’ve known before. Isn’t that scandalous?’ Emily laughed. ‘Don’t look so worried, Rosa dear. I know I couldn’t marry the man—he was little more than a vagabond. Certainly no one a respectable spinster like me could ever consider as a husband!’

Sylvia Andrew has an Honours Degree in Modern Languages from University College, London, and before ending up as Vice-Principal of a large comprehensive sixth form college taught English for foreigners in Switzerland, Cambridge and in Compton Park, an international finishing school for young ladies which was housed in a beautiful country mansion leased from the Devonshire family. The house and grounds have provided inspiration for several settings in her novels. She and her husband Simon now live in a small market town in the west of England, which is full of the Georgian architecture they both love. And just a few miles from their home is the marvellous Dorset Jurassic Coast World Heritage Site. In 2000 Sylvia wrote a historical celebration of the town’s splendid fifteenth-century parish church in a millennium son et lumière, which was a great success.

She and Simon belong to the Georgian Group, the National Trust and English Heritage, all of which help them to satisfy their love of historic houses and wonderful landscapes. Simon lectures all over the place on architecture and wild orchids, while Sylvia tries to do nothing, and usually fails, since she is heavily involved in the local museum. She just can’t keep away from old maps, newspapers, photographs and census returns! Her other passion is theatre performances of Shakespeare. She and Simon have one married daughter, whom they visit quite often, and a very precious grandson called Joe.

Novels by Sylvia Andrew:

LORD CALTHORPE’S PROMISE

LORD TRENCHARD’S CHOICE

COLONEL ANCROFT’S LOVE

A VERY UNUSUAL GOVERNESS

THE BRIDEGROOM’S BARGAIN

And in the Regency series The Steepwood Scandal:

AN UNREASONABLE MATCH

AN INESCAPABLE MATCH

## MISS WINBOLT AND THE FORTUNE HUNTER

Sylvia Andrew

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This one has to be for Simon, and my friends at Crewkerne & District Museum

Chapter One

Berkshire—May 1820

‘You must find a husband and set up your own establishment, Miss Winbolt. Marriage is the only answer. Nothing else will serve.’

Emily put her cup down very carefully. ‘Mrs Gosworth, I feel this is hardly a matter…’

‘I feel for you, my dear,’ her hostess continued. ‘Your brother’s marriage must have made life very difficult. After years of being in charge at Shearings yourself, it must be galling to have to hand over the reins to his new wife.’

Annoyed as Emily was, she had to laugh at this. ‘Nothing could be further from the truth, I assure you. Rosa and I are the best of friends and we deal very well together. I’m sorry, ma’am, but you are quite wrong to suggest—’

Mrs Gosworth was not about to abandon a topic she found so enjoyable. ‘Your sister-in-law would say nothing to upset you, of course. But the servants at Shearings are accustomed to receive orders from you. How will the new Mrs Winbolt establish herself as their mistress, while you are still in the house? Such a dear, sweet, biddable girl is sure to find it difficult, if not impossible. You are so decided in your opinions, Miss Winbolt, that there must be a risk that your brother’s wife will become a cipher in her own home!’

‘My dear ma’am, you are quite mistaken about Rosa’s character,’ Emily said, still smiling. ‘She is far from being the spineless creature you represent. Her manner is gentle, but she is perfectly capable of asserting her authority wherever and whenever it is needed. As indeed she does.’

‘Dear me! Two women of character in the same house? You are bound to fall out.’

‘I doubt very much—’

‘Perhaps you could set up house on your own? But, no! Your brother would never permit it. And what would the rest of the county say if he did? They would blame his wife, of course. No, marriage is the only answer. You must find a decent man and secure him without delay.’

Emily’s resolve to hold on to her temper was beginning to wear thin. She called on her sense of humour and confessed with a deceptive air of meekness that she knew of no one and asked if Mrs Gosworth had a suitable candidate in mind. Humour, along with refinement or concern for others, played no part in Mrs Gosworth’s makeup. Yellowing teeth showed in a triumphant smile as she said, ‘Not at the moment, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find someone. It’s a pity that your looks are no more than passable. Your brother is a very handsome man and no one in the neighbourhood could match his wife for beauty, but you…’ She shook her head. ‘It is a real pity. However, the case is not a hopeless one. Running Shearings has given you experience in household management and that would appeal to some men—especially one looking for a wife endowed with as handsome a fortune as yours.’

At that point Emily very nearly walked out. But, determined not to give this woman the satisfaction of seeing how very angry she was, she shook her head mournfully and said, ‘Alas, it looks as though I shall remain single, after all. I have no desire for such a husband.’ She got up. ‘Thank you for inviting me today, ma’am. It has been…an altogether delightful visit. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m afraid I must go. I have an appointment elsewhere.’ Then she curtsied and added, ‘You are very kind to be so concerned about how I deal with my brother and his wife. But pray let me set your mind at rest on one point at least. If I ever do decide to set up my own establishment, I shall not be leaving Shearings because of any difficulty in my relationship with my sister-in-law, I assure you. Good day, ma’am.’

Berating herself for her stupidity, Emily made her way back to Shearings. She knew that Mrs Gosworth was an embittered old woman with a desire to make mischief wherever she could, but she visited the old lady partly out of pity and partly out of curiosity to see what she would say next. But this time it had been too much. Now, as she went through the gate leading into Three Acre field, she asked herself why she had taken the risk. Mrs Gosworth’s malice might have missed its mark by a wide margin, but it had raised a question that had been haunting Emily for some time—the question of her future. Bitter experience had taught her that a fortune-seeking husband was the last thing she wanted, but how else could she reasonably find a home of her own without causing distress to Philip and, more particularly still, to Rosa? As she shut the gate behind her and set off across the field, this thought was still plaguing her. Much as she loved her brother and sister-in-law, she felt a growing need for independence. But how was she to achieve it without seriously upsetting them? She walked on, absorbed in her thoughts, and it was not until she was about halfway across the field that she became conscious of the black shape over to the left.

When she looked round and saw what it was, Rosa, Philip, Mrs Gosworth’s malice, her own doubts and painful memories, and everything else were wiped clean from her mind. Pritchard’s bull, large, black and powerful, was standing not twenty yards away, regarding her with a malevolent eye. Her heart missed a beat as stories about this animal flashed through her mind. Will Darby came to Shearings with a fresh tale every day, each one more gruesome than the last. Black Samson was as wicked as he was handsome. He had already savagely gored and killed a couple of stray dogs that had dared to come too near. Quite without provocation he had attacked and tossed Job Diment, one of Pritchard’s farm workers, and the man was still laid up with a badly mauled arm. There were others who had escaped even worse injury only by the skin of their teeth….

For a second she was frozen to the spot before an instinct for self-preservation took charge. She looked round the field. Black Samson would catch her long before she got to the gate on the other side. She must find a refuge somewhere else. Where, where? The giant oak over on the right was nearer. It might serve. She took another quick glance at the bull and saw that he had apparently given up interest in her for the moment. The temptation to run was strong, but it would undoubtedly be better to walk as unobtrusively as possible towards the tree and hope that he would continue to ignore her. She took a few nervous steps, but couldn’t resist the temptation to look back again. When she saw that Black Samson had raised his head and was now advancing purposefully in her direction, she lost her nerve. Without any idea what she would do when she got there she gave a little scream, took to her heels and fled towards the tree. It was the worst possible thing she could have done. Made lazy by the heat of the afternoon the bull had only been slightly curious, but this was too much of a challenge! Roused by flying feet and fluttering skirts, he lowered his head, horns at the ready, and took up the chase.

Emily ran for her life, and soon she was sobbing and gasping for breath. The tree was too far, she would never reach it in time! The bull was gaining ground fast—she could almost feel the animal’s breath on her back. She stumbled just as she reached her goal and for one paralysing moment was sure she had breathed her last. But with a final desperate effort she threw herself at the tree and grabbed at its lower branches. Her foot was still dangling when the bull reached her, but the tip of his horn caught her bonnet, which had been hanging by a single ribbon down her back. He paused to shake it clear and this gave Emily the all-important moment to scramble to safety. One branch, two… She didn’t care about her dress, paid no heed to nails and fingers. All she saw was the haven of the branches above her. At last she reached one broad enough to shelter her. She lay sprawled uncomfortably across it, lungs bursting and heart racing—but safely out of the bull’s reach.

She stayed there for some minutes, exhausted and almost afraid to move, till after a while she recovered enough to sit up and edge along the branch so that her back was resting against the trunk of the tree. She was trembling all over as she took stock of her situation. Her legs were scratched and smarting and felt as if they would never hold her up again. Her stockings were in shreds round her ankles and she removed them and put her shoes back on. It was a painful process, for her fingernails, where she had scrabbled frantically up the trunk of the tree, were broken and the tips were bleeding. But when she looked round she saw that at least she was safe! This oak was broad, and as long as she took care there was no danger of falling. She looked down at the bull and was shocked to see what had happened to her bonnet. It was lying torn and tattered in the dust and the bull, shaking his head in angry frustration, was slashing at the poor remains. Emily felt sick as she watched. How could she have been so stupid as to forget about Pritchard’s bull? She, not the bonnet, could have been lying there underneath Black Samson’s hoof.

Turning her eyes away with a shudder, she tried to pull herself together and think what to do next. One thing was certain—she wasn’t going to go anywhere near that bull again. She had been unbelievably lucky to escape. The village were already muttering about the beast and Farmer Pritchard was under pressure to get rid of it. Now, too late, she remembered that Will Darby had told her yesterday that Pritchard had moved the bull to Three Acre field because it was further away from the village and protected by stouter fences and hedges. But the field was on the route to Shearings, and after her conversation with Mrs Gosworth she had wanted to walk off her temper before she saw Rosa. She had sent her groom and the carriage back ahead of her and set off alone across the fields. Between her fury at Mrs Gosworth and preoccupation with her own major problem, she had not given the bull a thought. What an idiot she had been!

Though she was hardly able to move a muscle, she tried to regain some of her usual calm good sense. It would be more useful to stop blaming herself for what had happened and to plan instead what she should do now. How could she get away without climbing back down into the field? Looking round her, she saw that the branches of the oak overhung a thick hedge, which bordered the field. On the other side was a grassy pasture, which sloped down to a stream. She knew the area. It shouldn’t be too difficult to drop down from her branch into the pasture, and so on to the footpath that ran alongside the stream towards the back entrance to Shearings. She was really not too far from safety. Encouraged, she edged slowly far enough along the branch to be able to see over the hedge. But the slope was steeper than she had remembered, and the drop from the tree much too great. She couldn’t possibly get down without help.

Severely disappointed, Emily was tempted to give way to tears, but she told herself sharply not to be so poor-spirited. Anyone might be a little worn by such a frantic dash through the field and the hasty scramble up the tree, but that was no excuse for despair. Nor were her various aches and pains. The footpath was not much frequented, but if she could just hold on a little longer Will Darby was bound to pass by on his way home from Shearings. A treacherous little voice inside told her that it might actually be a good while longer—it was still early in the evening, and Will was never in a hurry to get home—but she refused to listen to it. She must keep up her spirits. Meanwhile, she could try to make herself more comfortable… But the branch creaked ominously as she wriggled along it, so she gave up the idea and prepared herself for an uncomfortable wait.

Time passed very slowly and before long she was beginning to feel dizzy from the strain of holding herself upright. Then, just as the pain was becoming unbearable, she saw someone walking along the path in the direction of the village. The relief was enormous. Will must have decided to come home early for once!

‘Will!’ she shouted. ‘Will, help me!’ He hadn’t heard her—he wasn’t going to stop! ‘Will!’ she shouted again. ‘I’m so glad to see you. I’m over here! This way! Stop, please stop! Are you deaf? For heaven’s sake, man, don’t be such a fool! I’ve been stuck in this tree for hours and I need your help!’

To her relief Will Darby stopped, looked around till he saw her in the tree, and climbed up the slope. But when he stood below her she could see that he wasn’t Will Darby, after all. He was a complete stranger.

‘Well, well, well,’ he said. ‘A damsel in distress, by heaven. Calling me by name, too! I don’t know you, do I?’

The stranger was no farm servant. He was dressed somewhat carelessly, with his coat unbuttoned and his shirt open at the neck. But his boots and breeches, though dusty, were of good quality, and his accent was that of a gentleman. ‘No,’ said poor Emily, conscious in spite of her distress that her hair was tangled, her dress was torn and that she was exposing a shocking length of bare leg. ‘I… I’m afraid…’

‘Then how did you know my name?’

‘I… I th-thought you someone else,’ she said.

‘I see,’ he said. ‘What the devil are you doing up there?’

Emily was tired and sore and she had no time for stupid questions. ‘What do you think I’m doing?’ she said with something like a snap. ‘I’m stuck. I can’t get down!’

He took his coat off, then jumped up to take a quick look over the hedge. ‘Why can’t you get down the other side? It looks as if that would be much easier.’

‘Because there’s half a ton of bull waiting for me behind the tree. His name is Black Samson and he’s famous for his wicked temper. I have no desire to be gored to death.’ Her voice rose as she went on, ‘And, whatever your name is, unless you or someone else don’t stop asking useless questions and help me down from this tree, really quite soon, I shall fall down all by myself.’ Her voice quavered on these last words—she was perilously close to tears.

‘That would never do. We’ll have to see how we can manage it. I’ve rescued many a cat from a tree in my time, but a grown woman is an altogether different matter.’ He examined the hedge, which was full of brambles and thorn bushes, looked down the slope and eyed her perch. ‘I can’t lift you down,’ he said doubtfully. ‘You’re too far out of my reach. I really ought to fetch more help.’

‘No!’ Emily was near the end of her tether. ‘I couldn’t possibly wait that long. The nearest place is much too far away! You must help me now!’

‘I see. Well, in that case, we’ll just have to do our best. Can you edge a little further till you’re clear of that thorn hedge? I think we can do it if you lower yourself down very carefully and trust me to catch you for the last few feet. I’d say the ground here was level enough for me to manage it. Just about. You’ll have to go carefully, mind. Gently’s the word. Otherwise we could both end up rolling down the slope. Gently…that’s right. That’s the way! Gently now, gent—’

There was a crack, a scream and a shout of dismay as Emily’s branch snapped and she fell precipitately into her rescuer’s arms. He struggled to keep his balance, but the angle of the slope was too much for them. Together they rolled down, jolting over the rough ground and slithering where it was smooth. But he held her firmly throughout, shielding her from the worst of the bumps. They finally ended up in a grassy hollow, where they came to a stop. They lay there in silence for a moment or two. Then he said, ‘That was exciting. Are you hurt?’

Dazed and winded Emily lay, still wrapped in his arms, not sure whether she was or she wasn’t. After the buffeting and bumping of the previous minute, the hollow was strangely quiet. The world seemed to have retreated, leaving them alone in a haven of peace. She lay there almost dreamily, surprised and pleased that her various aches and pains appeared to have vanished. After a moment she shook her head.

‘Are you sure?’ He was leaning over her, his face close to hers. It was a nice face, she thought hazily. A kind face. A face full of humour. A tiny fan of wrinkles at each corner of his dark blue eyes gave her the impression that he laughed quite often. Or was it because he spent a good deal of his time out of doors? He was quite tanned. His nose was slightly crooked, and he had a firm chin, though it looked at the moment as if it needed a shave. He wasn’t laughing at present—his expression was serious, a small frown between his brows. How pleasant, she thought. He’s really concerned about me.

She was surprised at how comforting this was. She regarded herself as an independent creature, but recently she had begun to feel lonely, even amongst the people she loved best in the world. And Mrs Gosworth had stirred up doubts about her future, which she would rather have forgotten. She was in need of comfort. It was very agreeable to be regarded with such concern and, though the sensation was new, it was very pleasant to have someone’s arms holding her so…so protectively.

‘Would you like me to help you to get up?’

She considered the question. This feeling of intimacy, this new awareness of a man’s body close to hers, was strange, but definitely attractive. ‘I’m really quite happy where I am, thank you,’ said Emily, giving him a sweet smile. ‘I don’t think I want to move.’

Afterwards, when she thought over what followed, she told herself she must have hit her head as she fell. It was the only explanation. Or perhaps she had been so shaken by her fright with the bull that she had been temporarily out of her mind. Whatever the cause, she had certainly not been herself.

Emily Winbolt had a warm heart and a lively sense of humour, but outsiders were seldom aware of either. Her manner to them was usually cool, even distant—that of a perfectly well-behaved, perfectly brought up, perfectly well-bred young lady. She was a devoted granddaughter, an openly loving sister to her brother Philip, and when he married had given her new sister-in-law the same affection. But several unfortunate experiences had made her cynical about most members of the opposite sex, and only her strong sense of humour had saved her from lasting bitterness.

Her behaviour in the hollow, for whatever reason, was so shocking, so completely out of character, that those who knew her would never have believed it. She later concluded it must have been caused by a fit of madness following her fall.

But while she was with this stranger it seemed altogether natural.

He frowned slightly. ‘All the same, I think we should at least check whether you’re damaged at all. Can you move your arms and legs?’

Still in the grip of this strange emotion, she stretched luxuriously like a cat then smiled again and wrinkled her nose at him. ‘You see? Apart from a few scratches I’m perfectly sound.’ The movement brought her into closer contact with the body next to hers. Her cheek was resting on his chest, and she could feel the warmth of his body, a slight roughness of hair, through the thin lawn of his shirt. His heartbeat was strong and it was growing faster…

He smiled back and it was just as she had suspected—his eyes wrinkled at the corners, laughter lurking in them.

‘You’ve collected half the hedge in your fall,’ he said, carefully picking leaves and twigs out of her hair and smoothing it back from her forehead. Emily gazed at him in delight, filled with a sense of well-being, her loneliness and other anxieties quite forgotten. This man might be a stranger, she might never see him again after this meeting, but she had not felt as close as this to anyone else for a long, long time. His eyes met hers again and she knew he was going to kiss her. Far from being shocked, she was warmed by the thought. He put his finger gently under her chin and tilted her face to meet his…

At first the kiss was tentative, as if he was not sure what her reaction would be, but as he felt her response it deepened and grew more intense, though still gentle. It seemed to go on for a long time. Emily was lost in its sweetness. When he would have lifted his head, she put her arms round his neck and pulled his mouth to hers again.

‘Well, well, well,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘I little thought when I lost my way this morning that I would end up with an enchantress in my arms. What is your name, lovely one?’

Even in her present dazed state Emily had no wish to tell him who she was. This was a magic hour, a time out of reality. Emily Winbolt, spinster, had no place in this enchantment. He saw her hesitation and laughed. ‘You’re quite right! I shouldn’t have asked. Though it’s hardly fair—you know mine.’

‘Will,’ she said softly. ‘Though I didn’t know it was yours until you told me.’

‘Who is the other Will in your life?’

She could have replied, ‘One of my brother’s servants.’ But she didn’t. She didn’t want him to know where she lived, or what her name was, any more than she wanted him to know that her brother owned the land all around them, and they lived in a handsome residence in the Palladian style quite close at hand. She didn’t want to talk about her brother’s wife, gentle, loving and very, very beautiful. Emily wanted for once to be Miss Nobody from nowhere, not rich Miss Winbolt, sister to the local landowner and an heiress in her own right. And, more than anything, she didn’t want to be reminded of the problem that had been gnawing at the back of her mind for weeks, and which had been brutally brought to the fore by her conversation with Mrs Gosworth.

‘He doesn’t matter, Will,’ she whispered. ‘Nothing else matters at the moment.’ She smiled at him dreamily, ‘Will,’ she said. ‘Will.’ And she pulled his head down to hers again. This time the kiss was passionate from the start. He held her so closely that she felt every part of his strong, muscular body, and delighted in it. He smoothed her hair again and kissed her brow, her eyes, and then returned to part her lips with his. Emily’s heart was racing once more, this time with a feverish excitement. She had been kissed before by a man she had been about to marry, but never like this. Never before had she been so aware of her blood running through her veins with such singing delight. Her skin tingled wherever he touched her. She realised now how bloodless, how meaningless those other kisses had been. Nothing in her experience had prepared her for this. She felt overwhelmed by a need to be held by this man, caressed by him. He was no stranger to her—she belonged to him. Nothing existed except the two of them, and the hollow where they lay hidden from the rest of the world in an enchanted, magical world of their own. His lips found her throat, her shoulders, her breasts…

A sound of whistling broke into their idyll. Will Darby on his way home! She stiffened and firm hands gripped her. ‘Lie still,’ he whispered. ‘He won’t see us if you lie quite still.’

The magic vanished into the air, as reality broke in on Emily’s dream. She lay rigid and silent until the footsteps died away in the distance, then, overcome with shame, she struggled to be free of him. ‘It’s Will Darby,’ she said, as she scrambled to her feet and straightened her dress. Avoiding his eye, she stammered, ‘They’ll be wondering where I am. I must go.’

He got up, and when she turned away from him put his arms round her waist. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he murmured against her neck.

‘You can’t,’ she cried in panic, pushing him from her. ‘I have to go alone. You mustn’t come with me.’

‘I don’t believe it!’ he said, half-laughing, half-serious. ‘That’s too much the cruel enchantress. You can’t appear out of nowhere, bewitch me, and then just…disappear! I won’t let you.’

Emily, torn between shame and a treacherous desire to stay, said desperately. ‘Please, you must let me go. I…I cannot stay any longer. Don’t look at me like that! I…I don’t…don’t know what came over me…’ She couldn’t finish the sentence. With a little sob she turned and stumbled down the slope to the footpath, picked up her skirts and ran for dear life towards Shearings. When she threw a hunted glance back, she saw to her relief he was making no attempt to follow her, but stood where she had left him, ruefully shaking his head.

After she had disappeared round a bend in the footpath the stranger stood for a while, then shrugged and went to pick up his coat. The village where he had left his horse and pack couldn’t be more than a few minutes walk away. It was too late now to see Charlwood again tonight. He would put up at a local inn or camp out in some hedgerow or other. The thought didn’t disturb him—the night would be warm, and he had done it often enough in the past. And as he walked he shook his head over what had just happened. It was altogether something new in his experience! Such passion, followed by such an abrupt departure! Why had she gone? Was the other Will her lover, or even her husband, perhaps? He rather thought he would never know. He shrugged again and went on his way, deciding to dismiss the episode from his mind. Unless Charlwood proved to be more suitable than he had thought at first sight, he wouldn’t be in the area for long. It was most unlikely their paths would ever cross a second time. At this thought he felt a fleeting regret. There had been something about her that had attracted him as he had not been attracted for many years. Not her looks—he could hardly remember anything about the way she looked, except for a pair of silver-grey eyes. Her legs and ankles had been good, too. He grinned as he remembered his first sight of her, those long slender legs dangling from the tree… But there was something else… Something about her had appealed to him at a deeper level. She had been such a strange mixture of abandonment and innocence…

He shook his head, and stepped out more briskly. No, she was just a passionate little flirt. She was probably a consummate tease, too. Life was too short to spend a second thought on her. But, by heaven, she knew how to stir a man’s blood!

Chapter Two

By the time Emily reached Shearings she was exhausted. The bruises and scratches she had forgotten a short while before had returned to plague her, and she limped painfully through the garden room door in the direction of the back stairs. But, though she went as quietly as she could, she was not quiet enough. Rosa had obviously been listening for her.

‘Emily! Dearest! Thank goodness you’re back! We were worried about you, after the carriage returned without you. But why have you come in this way—?’ She stopped short and regarded her sister-in-law with astonishment. ‘Heavens! What on earth have you done to yourself? No, don’t waste time on that now—you can tell me later. We must get you upstairs to your room first.’

Emily was helped through the hall and up to her room at the top of the main staircase, and was soon sitting in a chair being ministered to by Rosa herself and by Mrs Hopkins, the housekeeper. Mrs Hopkins had been with the Winbolt family for many years, and had known Emily since childhood. She gently removed her torn clothes, exclaiming as she did so at the state of her hands and legs. Rosa meanwhile fetched salves and lotions from her own room, then disappeared again to return with a glass of Philip’s best brandy. After a short while Emily was lying on her bed, propped up by pillows, her hands bandaged and the scratches on her legs bathed and soothed with ointment. Rosa sat beside her on the bed and held the brandy to her lips.

‘Drink it all,’ she said with a reassuring smile. ‘Every drop. You’ll feel better.’

When Emily hesitated, Mrs Hopkins nodded her head. ‘There’s nothing like a drop of brandy, Miss Emily,’ she said firmly. ‘You do as Mrs Winbolt says.’ They waited until Emily had finished the brandy, then the housekeeper said, ‘If you don’t need me any more, ma’am, I’ll go about my business. The master will be back soon, I dare say.’

After she had gone out Rosa said, ‘She thinks you’ll feel able to talk more freely in her absence, but she could have stayed. Mrs Hopkins wouldn’t dream of gossiping with the other servants. She is the soul of discretion.’ She paused, then said hesitantly, ‘I’m very anxious to know what happened, Emily. If you feel well enough to tell me, I’d like to hear about it.’

Emily took a breath. Discretion was a good word to use. She would have to use a good deal of it herself.

‘You know that I visited Mrs Gosworth this afternoon…’ she began. She paused.

‘I did warn you,’ said Rosa. ‘She is one of the unkindest people I know. Oh, Emily, I should have gone with you. Did she upset you?’

‘She tried,’ said Emily with a small grimace. ‘But I’m afraid she was disappointed. I was angry rather than upset, but I managed not to show it. I even thanked her for a delightful visit!’

Rosa clapped her hands and laughed. ‘Wonderful! She must have been furious. How long did you stay?’

‘Not a second more than the correct time, believe me. But you can’t imagine what I did afterwards. I must have been mad.’

Rosa raised an eyebrow. ‘You? But you are the soul of good sense!’

‘Not today. After talking to that woman I was so very angry that I didn’t want to be driven home. I needed to work my temper off. I needed exercise and air, so I walked home across the fields. And…and I forgot all about Pritchard’s bull and came through Three Acre field.’

‘Thr-Through’ Rosa looked at her aghast. ‘I don’t believe you! You can’t have forgotten. Weren’t you listening when Will Darby told us he’d been moved there?’

‘Yes. But it had gone right out of my mind. I didn’t think of the bull until I was halfway across the field and saw his eyes on me.’

Rosa was shocked. She got off the bed and walked about the room in agitation. ‘Good God, Emily, when I think what could have happened… What has already happened to others…’ She turned and looked at Emily in bewilderment. ‘How can you have been so foolish? It’s so unlike you! That bull…’ She came back and took her sister-in-law in her arms. ‘We could have lost you.’

Emily laughed shakily. ‘There were a few moments when I thought you had. But I ran faster than I’ve run in my life before and reached a tree by the hedge just before the bull caught up with me.’

Rosa gently took Emily’s bandaged hands in hers. ‘I suppose that’s when these got so damaged. What happened then?’

‘I found I was stranded and waited for a while to see…to see if anyone would come to rescue me.’

Emily was not used to lying, especially with Rosa’s clear blue eyes, wide with sympathy, looking at her. She took a deep breath and went on, ‘But…but no one did. So…so I jumped down.’

‘Emily! That was so dangerous!’

‘Yes. Yes, it was. The branch broke, and I…and I rolled down the slope. It was steeper than I had thought.’

‘You could have been killed! I shall certainly have something to say to Philip when he comes back. I asked him to go when the carriage arrived back without you, but he said you’d be perfectly safe walking home. He really should have gone to look for you,’

Emily gave a weak smile and tried not to show how profoundly grateful she was that her brother had refused. What he would have said, or done, if he had discovered her in that hollow, lying in the arms of a perfect stranger in an intimate embrace, was too awful to imagine.

‘But where was Will?’

‘Who?’

Rosa looked puzzled. ‘Will Darby.’

Emily, who had been thinking of quite a different Will, tried to speak naturally as she responded, ‘Will Darby… Oh, yes, of course.’

‘He must have been on his way home about that time. Didn’t you see him?’

‘’Er…no. I didn’t,’ said Emily, avoiding her sister-in-law’s eye. She could feel her cheeks getting hot.

There was a slight pause, after which Rosa said, ‘You must be tired. I think you should have a rest now. Are you hungry? I’ll have some soup or something easy to eat sent up.’ Bending over to kiss Emily goodnight, she said softly, ‘A night’s sleep will work miracles. We’ll see you in the morning.’

Emily lay awake for some time after Rosa and the maid had gone. She was still bewildered by what had happened that afternoon. Will—Will the stranger—had called her an enchantress, but judging by the effect he had had on her, it was far more likely that he was the sorcerer. She grew warm as she remembered how she had behaved. Wantonly. Shamelessly. Other words came to mind to torment her. But when she finally fell asleep, her last thoughts were oddly comforting—a stranger’s arms protecting her as they rolled down the slope, a strong body holding her so close, laughter in a man’s eyes as he held her and kissed…her…so… sweetly… And her dreams that night were surprisingly pleasant.

The next morning Emily got up, determined to put her encounter with the stranger and her own inexplicable reactions behind her. She nodded reassuringly when Rosa raised her brows in a silent question as she entered the breakfast room, and held up hands now free of bandages. Philip had apparently been told an edited version of her arrival the night before. He asked about her injuries and she assured him they were all purely superficial. He frowned when she told him of her visit to Mrs Gosworth, then said, ‘I can’t understand what possessed you to go through that field.’

‘Philip, I can’t tell you. I don’t know! I agree it was madness, and that I was luckier than I deserved.’

‘Perhaps I should have a word with Pritchard.’

‘Please don’t. I’m sure the field is perfectly secure. No one else in the village would be so stupid!’

They talked of other things for a while, but then Philip asked, ‘By the way, did you happen to see any strangers on your way back? They were saying down in the stables that some fellow or other was wandering about round here yesterday. From what they told me, he arrived halfway through the morning, left his horse at the inn in the village and went for a walk. Odd sort of thing to do, wouldn’t you say? Did you catch sight of him, Emmy?’

Emily’s cheeks grew warm, and were even warmer as she felt Rosa’s eyes on her. She replied with commendable calm, ‘No, I don’t think I did. Did he…did he go back to the inn?’

‘Yes, but quite late. He claimed to have lost his way. But he must have come back along the stream about the time you were there.’

‘Is he…is he still at the inn?’

‘I don’t know! I haven’t seen Will Darby this morning. Why are you asking? There’s no reason to be afraid. They all thought he looked like a gentleman. I don’t think he’s dangerous.’

Now that is entirely a matter of opinion! thought Emily with a wry smile, hastily straightening her face when she saw Rosa looking at her again.

Philip went on to talk of other matters, and the stranger was not mentioned again. Emily hoped he was forgotten. But afterwards Rosa looked Emily in the eye and said firmly, ‘It’s a lovely morning. Do you feel well enough for a walk in the garden? Or shall we sit in the small parlour? There are just the two of us here this morning. Philip has to go over to Temperley.’

Philip said, surprised, ‘Aren’t you coming with me to see your father?’

‘Not this morning, my love. It’s a business call, and you’ll do much better without me. No, Emily and I are going to have a comfortable chat in the garden. Aren’t we, dear?’

‘I thought I might go…’

‘You mustn’t disappoint me, Emily,’ said Rosa, with smiling determination.

Rosa was the sweetest, gentlest girl imaginable, thought Emily, except when she’s looking as she does at the moment. She gave up. ‘No. I see that I mustn’t. Very well. The garden it is. I should like a walk.’

‘And a talk, I hope,’ said Rosa with another charming smile.

It was a beautifully sunny day and the two ladies, wearing wide brimmed hats and carrying parasols, went out into the garden. They walked for a while, and then sat down in the shade. Emily looked around her. She had helped Philip so much here when he had first inherited Shearings. Their Great-Uncle Joseph’s chief interest had been in new methods of farming, and Shearings’s gardens had lain neglected. She and Philip had worked so hard that first year to create this haven of flower beds and shaded walks, arbours and fountains. Emily sighed. She was genuinely happy that Philip had found Rosa. They were ideally suited. But it was sometimes difficult not to be nostalgic about the past.

Rosa snapped her parasol shut and turned to Emily, who saw the militant look in her sister-in-law’s eye and braced herself.

‘Now!’ she said. ‘Now you can tell me just what happened yesterday, if you please.’

‘I…I’ve told you.’

‘So you did. And I believed you. But that was before I heard about a stranger. A gentlemanly stranger.’

‘What…what has he to do with me?’

‘That is what you are going to tell me, Emily dear. I know you. You’re a bad liar. And I have a strong suspicion that you not only saw this “gentlemanly stranger” yesterday, but probably talked to him, too. Is that what made you so late?’ She stopped and looked closely at Emily. ‘Dear heaven, I hadn’t thought… He didn’t attack you, did he? Is he the cause of those bruises and scratches? Tell me, Emily, don’t be afraid.’

‘No, no! You’re quite wrong. I told you the truth about those. I got them when I climbed the tree. Most of them.’

‘And the rest?’ Rosa’s lovely face was unusually stern.

Emily heard the determination and realised that she was not going to get away with less than the truth.

‘You see too much, Rosa. I should have known you’d guess. Very well. I climbed up the tree as I told you and saw that I couldn’t get down. That was true. But you’re quite right. I didn’t tell you everything.’

‘Which was…?’

‘It seemed like hours before I saw someone coming, and when I did I took it to be Will Darby. I knew he would pass by on his way home so I called out to him and he came over. But…but it wasn’t Will Darby, after all.’

‘I knew it! It was this stranger,’ Rosa said.

Emily nodded. ‘He agreed to catch me if I jumped, but the branch broke, and we fell and rolled down the slope. That was when I got the rest of the scratches.’

‘Was he hurt?’

‘I…I don’t think so. He didn’t seem to be. He…he’s very strong.’

Rosa watched, fascinated, as Emily’s lips curved up in a small, reminiscent smile. ‘What…what happened then?’ she asked carefully.

‘I was dazed, of course. He waited until I felt better, then…’ Emily glanced briefly at Rosa and said, ‘Then I left him and came home.’

‘Alone? He didn’t offer to see you home safely? What a strange man he must be to leave you to find your own way after such a fall! He can’t have been much of a gentleman.’

‘No! No, you mustn’t think… He…he wanted to bring me home. I wouldn’t let him.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘He…he…he kissed me.’

‘Against your will? The heartless wretch!’

‘No… It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t at all like that!’

Emily got up and walked away. Her voice was muffled as she said, still not turning round, ‘I let him kiss me. Willingly.’

This surprised Rosa so much that for a moment she couldn’t say anything. Then she stammered, ‘I can’t believe it!’

‘Neither can I! Not now.’ Emily stood a moment with her back towards Rosa. When she turned round, she had a look of desperation on her face. ‘I don’t know what came over me, Rosa!’ she said in a stifled voice. ‘I’m not normally so…so idiotic. Perhaps it had all been too much for me—Mrs Gosworth, the bull, then falling from the tree…I don’t know! But, whatever the reason, I behaved like a…like a wanton. I must have been mad. How will I ever forget it?’

‘Of course you can. You were dazed, in shock. Don’t get upset, Emily! It was probably more difficult than you think to refuse him.’

‘But afterwards…I should have been angry, should have fought to get away from him as quickly as I could. But I didn’t.’ She fell silent and her face softened into a smile of remembrance. For a moment she looked…vulnerable. ‘I enjoyed it. He was so kind… so gentle… I felt so…so safe with him…so cherished… I didn’t push him away. I wanted him to kiss me again. And he did.’ She shook her head in a gesture of repudiation. ‘I’m still…so ashamed.’

Rosa got up and said softly, ‘Dearest Emily, you mustn’t be. I think it quite likely that the shock of the fall affected your behaviour yesterday. You were grateful to him, as well as dazed. I shouldn’t worry about the state of your morals! But there’s more to it than that.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’

As they walked through an avenue of trees planted by Philip’s great-grandfather nearly a hundred years before, Rosa said, ‘Mrs Gosworth can be very cruel indeed. I suffered at her hands quite badly. My first marriage, as you know, was an unhappy one. Stephen, my husband, was involved with some very disreputable people… Mrs Gosworth somehow or other heard about Stephen and when I visited her shortly after our marriage she hinted that I had ruined Philip’s life by marrying him, that the Winbolts’ reputation was irreparably damaged by associating with me. Philip had to work hard to reassure me afterwards that it was all nonsense—she can be very convincing.’

She stopped and looked at Emily. ‘You are one of the most level-headed people I know, Emily, but yesterday you were so angry with Mrs Gosworth that you forgot about a very dangerous bull and could have been killed. And afterwards, when you were telling me about the stranger, you said you had felt “cherished”. That’s a very unusual word for you. You are much more likely to insist on your independence. You must have felt the need of comfort quite badly. Tell me, Emily—what did Mrs Gosworth say to upset you so?’ When Emily said nothing she went on, ‘Was it about me? Did she suggest that your reputation had suffered because of your relationship to me? I must say, I thought Philip had put a stop to such talk when he saw her earlier this year.’

‘No, it was nothing like that.’

‘Perhaps she tried to suggest that you were unlikely to find a husband? That’s a favourite ploy of hers to any girl over the age of twenty.’

Emily said bitterly, ‘On the contrary. She suggested that I ought to marry as soon as possible. It shouldn’t be too difficult, she said, to find a husband for someone with a fortune like mine, even if they have little else to recommend them.’

Rosa was as angry as Emily had ever seen her. She said something under her breath, walked on a few paces, then exclaimed, ‘That woman is poisonous. She should have been chased out of the neighbourhood years ago! Little wonder that her own family refuses to go near her. Why the county continues to receive her I do not know! Emily, she is not worth a second thought.’

Emily did not reply for a minute. Then she said quietly, ‘But it’s true, isn’t? I learned that before I was twenty from the man I had been about to marry. I had thought we loved each other, but he only loved my fortune. I heard him say it. “Of course I’m not in love with her, Caroline,” he said. “You know I love you. But I need her money. Good lord, why else would a man tie himself to a cool fish like Emily Winbolt? I’d sooner go to bed with a block of ice.” It was quite a shock.’ Emily gave a bitter little smile and went on, ‘He was furious when I called the engagement off.’

Rosa put her hands on Emily’s shoulders and shook her. ‘I didn’t know the young man, it was before I knew you, but you were well rid of him. He could never have made you happy. Emily, you are an intelligent, caring person with a delightful sense of humour. The sort of man you could love would have to be someone special. And he would be proud to have you as a wife.’

‘Where will he be found? I’ve met many men since, but never one I wanted for a husband. Most of them found my fortune more important than I was. I’ve never fallen in love again, never felt the least stirring of desire for any one of them. Half the time they didn’t understand what I was talking about. Even if they had cared. And very few men appreciate what you call my “delightful sense of humour”.’

‘Very few men see it. You are always too guarded.’

‘I’ve learned to be wary. To tell the truth, I doubt now that I shall ever marry.’ She looked at Rosa with the beginning of a smile. ‘And do you know? This will probably shock you, but I have to confess it. I didn’t feel like a cool fish yesterday. That stranger’s kisses were far more exciting than any I’ve known before. They stirred me more than Harry Colesworth’s ever did. Isn’t that scandalous?’ She laughed. ‘Don’t look so worried, Rosa dear. I know I couldn’t marry the man—he was little more than a vagabond. Certainly no one a respectable spinster like me could ever consider as a husband! No, I don’t think I shall marry, whatever Mrs Gosworth says.’ She paused, and then said hesitantly, ‘In fact, I have a different plan for the future. You could help me with it, if you would.’

‘Of course I will,’ said Rosa. ‘But what is it?’

‘If Philip agreed, I should like most of all to set up house on my own. Near at hand, of course. You could help me to persuade him.’

Rosa was deeply shocked. She turned on Emily. ‘What a dreadful idea! I won’t do anything of the sort. I wouldn’t be at all happy with such an arrangement and neither would Philip. This is your home, Emily, and the only good reason for you to leave it would be with a man who loves you and wants to marry you.’ She stopped short, and continued more slowly, her voice revealing how hurt she was, ‘What have we done that you should prefer to live alone, however near at hand? I thought you loved us.’

Emily sighed inwardly and wished she had said nothing. It was just as she had foreseen. And Philip’s reaction would be just the same. How could she explain to two of the people she loved best in the world that she often felt lonely in their company, often felt like an outsider, a hanger-on, however kindly they treated her? She loved them, enjoyed their company, and would always want to spend time with them. But she would never be really content until she was mistress of her own establishment, creating a garden again, planning improvements. In that way she would feel independent enough to spend as much time as she wanted with them, without feeling she was intruding on their idyll. They were so happy together. She sighed again. They would never understand. It was an impossible dream.

Meanwhile Emily’s stranger had arrived at Thirle, where he was staying with Lady Deardon, his godmother.

‘Really, William, you are a disgrace! What the servants think of you I cannot imagine.’

‘Good God, ma’am, since when have we had to worry what the servants think? You don’t pay ’em to think!’

Lady Deardon tapped her stick impatiently. ‘Your life in South America has spoilt you, my boy. Mark my words, you’ll soon change your tune when you have an establishment of your own to run here in England. Good servants are to be treasured. Your man arrived some time ago with your baggage. I cannot for the life of me call him your valet. Anyone less like a gentleman’s gentleman would be difficult to imagine. But I suppose he knows what to do. Do go and put some respectable clothes on before Reggie sees you. You know what a stickler he is, and he’ll be back for dinner soon. Then you can tell me your news.’

‘There isn’t much,’ William said briefly, as he went out. ‘I haven’t seen anything I’d call really suitable.’

Emily would not have recognised him when he at last came downstairs again. Not only had he washed and shaved, but everything about him, from his carefully brushed hair to his gleaming evening shoes, his immaculate shirt and perfectly tied cravat, his beautifully fitted coat of blue superfine and snowy white pantaloons, pronounced him to be a gentleman of some distinction.

‘I must say you scrub up well,’ said Lady Deardon. ‘Why you choose to wander about the countryside like a tramp I cannot imagine. Reggie has just arrived. He’s dressing now, so there’s time for us to have a talk. Have you heard anything more about the children?’

‘The latest news is that they will stay in Jamaica with the Warburtons until they can all come to England some time in the autumn.’

‘Who are these Warburtons?’

‘Good friends of mine from my days in the Navy. When John died so unexpectedly, they took the children in.’

‘Poor little things. I take it that Juana’s family still refuse to have anything to do with them?’

‘When Juana ran off with my brother, the Lopez family didn’t simply refuse to acknowledge her marriage to him, they cut her out of their lives completely. The children don’t exist as far as they are concerned. Juana’s family will never relent, even though her children are now orphans.’

‘So they are your responsibility. What are you going to do?’

‘What else can I do but find somewhere to live and make it into a suitable home for us all? The children are safe enough for the moment, but it’s hard to say what effect the events of the past year have had on them. It will be better when we are all together in a house of our own.’

‘Have you found anything?’

‘There’s only one possibility in the district. I came across it today. Charlwood. It’s a handsome estate not too far from here, and the land is in good heart. The house itself looks ruinous, but it could be rescued. It is basically sound and it has plenty of rooms. The gardens and park have real potential, too. They’ve obviously been laid out by a master hand. I liked it.’

‘So it’s for sale? I know Charlwood quite well. It was once a lovely place, but there was some sort of dispute over ownership when the old man died, and it’s been empty for years.’

‘That’s the drawback—the whole place has been neglected too long. It would be months before the house was habitable. A year even.’

‘It’s in a beautiful situation, William. It sounds as if it could be just what you’re looking for.’

‘It certainly came close. But the children will need to settle down as soon as possible after they arrive here.’

‘It’s a wife you need, if you’re to look after those children properly. Have you thought of that? A mother for them is more important than four walls and a roof.’

‘I know, I know. I haven’t the slightest wish to marry, but I suppose I must. To be honest, it’s a devil of a mess.’

‘Bringing up two orphans won’t be easy. They need a mother and you haven’t even found a wife yet! It isn’t every woman who would be willing to take on a ready-made family such as that.’

‘Since they are the only reason I would even consider marrying, any wife of mine will have to accept them. John was my brother and his children are now my responsibility. There’s no alternative.’

‘Well, if you do wish to hold on to them you must find a decent, well-bred young woman and marry her! That is far more important than any house.’

‘How the devil can I ask anyone to marry me when I haven’t a home to offer her? What should I say to her? “Madam, you can have my heart, my name and two orphaned children, but, alas, we shall have to live in a field!” I can’t see any sensible woman accepting such an offer, can you?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, William! Of course she wouldn’t. But now I come to think of it, there’s a very pretty Dower House at Charlwood. Is it included in the sale?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, then, you and your family could live there until the main house is ready. I know it’s a little small—’

‘Extremely so. That was why I have almost decided not to consider it.’

‘Is it as much of a ruin as the main house?’

‘No, a few months’ work would put it in order.’

‘It could surely house you all till Charlwood itself is ready to receive you.’

‘I suppose it could—if it could be made ready in time…’

‘Reggie and I are going up north at the end of October, but you could all stay with us till then if it wasn’t quite ready for you. There, that’s settled. Here comes Reggie. We shall go in to dinner.’

Later that evening Lady Deardon returned to the question of a suitable wife for her godson. ‘I’ve been thinking over dinner how to set about finding you a wife, William. It is essential you find one before long. I don’t imagine a débutante would suit you?’

‘Not at all! The ones I’ve met since coming back to England seem to me to be remarkably silly. They don’t appear to understand what I’m talking about half the time.’

‘As I thought—you need someone older.’

‘Preferably intelligent. And, if possible, with a sense of humour.’

‘Aren’t you being a little too particular for a man in such desperate straits? I suppose you’ll tell me next that you’re looking for a woman with a fortune, too!’

‘The very thing!’ exclaimed her godson with a grin. ‘A rich widow would be best of all! Putting Charlwood in order will cost a mint of money, and now there’s the additional expense of the Dower House. I shall certainly need a rich wife!’

‘My dear boy, you may not find it so easy. Rich young women who are looking for a husband do not grow on trees.’

William was visited by a sudden vision of the young woman he had found in a tree. Warm, responsive, breathtakingly passionate… Rich or poor, in her teens or in her thirties, he was most unlikely to find anyone among the ladies of polite society nearly as exciting as his wild girl of the tree…

‘William!’

With an effort he put the girl firmly out of his mind and said cheerfully, ‘I shan’t give up hope yet. There must be someone somewhere.’

‘You talk as if any woman would do! Have you no feelings in the matter? No heart?’

‘Any heart I had was battered out of me years ago, ma’am. No, I want someone whose company I find tolerable and who will care for the children. Affairs of the heart have nothing to do with marriage. A congenial partner is what I want, and if she is rich, so much the better.’

‘You are trying to shock me again. You always were a tease.’

‘I meant every word. Meanwhile, I shall have another look at Charlwood.’

Chapter Three

William’s casual air was deceptive. Before another day was over he had inspected Charlwood again and made up his mind. Underneath its ruinous appearance was a spacious, beautifully proportioned house which could in time be made into just the sort of family home he was looking for. Meanwhile, with a few alterations, the Dower House could house them all quite adequately. He set about buying the estate with the energy and efficiency which had served him well in South America. It was an odd coincidence that, soon after the negotiations were complete, William’s lawyers were approached by another buyer, who was apparently equally eager to possess Charlwood, and was offering more than William had paid for it. But William refused the offer without hesitation. Charlwood was to be his—it was the perfect place for him and his family.

One evening Lady Deardon told him that she had met a certain Mrs Gosworth when visiting an acquaintance. ‘She lives nearby in a small village called Stoke Shearings. Have you come across it?’

‘I spent a night at the inn there not long ago.’ William smiled reminiscently, visited once again by the memory of a woman with silver-grey eyes and tumbling hair, long, bare legs and slender ankles. She had looked like a gipsy, and had behaved like one, too. As he remembered the passion he had aroused in her, his blood stirred again… A wanton, a tease, she might be, but he still hadn’t forgotten her.

‘William…William, why do you keep going off into a trance when I am speaking to you? Don’t you want to hear what I have to tell you?’

He returned to the present. ‘Forgive me, I was thinking…thinking of…of something else.’

‘Well, whatever it is, forget it for the moment. This is more important. After talking to Mrs Gosworth, I think I’ve found a possible wife for you! There!’ Lady Deardon looked so complacent that William felt impelled to say solemnly,

‘I’ve heard of the lady. She’s in her sixties, and a harridan to boot. You’re very kind, but I don’t think she would do for me.’

Lady Deardon gave a laugh. ‘Don’t be such a tease, Will. Of course I don’t mean her! I thought she was a most unpleasant woman. But she talked of someone who sounds perfect. A Miss Winbolt. Not in her first youth, and unhappy at the change in her circumstances. She lives with her brother and his wife in the big house in Stoke Shearings. It belongs to the Winbolt family. You didn’t happen to call on them when you were in the area, did you?’

‘No, that was the day I got lost, and when I got back to the inn that evening it was too late for a social call.’

‘Shearings itself is a beautiful place, apparently. It has some superb gardens. From what Mrs Gosworth says, Miss Winbolt kept house for her brother for years, but last January he married a rather unsuitable woman and brought her home to Shearings.’

‘Unsuitable? What did she mean by unsuitable?’

‘Rosa Winbolt had been married before. Her husband apparently belonged to a raffish lot in London, and died in suspicious circumstances.’

William shook his head at his hostess. ‘My dear ma’am, I hope you haven’t been paying too much attention to Mrs Gosworth. The new Mrs Winbolt may have once lived in London, but she comes from a highly respected local family and is very well liked in the neighbourhood. I’ve heard nothing but good of her.’

‘Really? So the trouble may lie with Emily Winbolt herself? Mrs Gosworth did say she was a rather strong-minded young woman. It could be that the new bride wants to take over the running of the house and Miss Winbolt finds it difficult to step down. According to Mrs Gosworth, she is past her first youth and rather plain, so she can see that her chances of finding a husband are fading. She might well consider marriage as a means of having a household of her own.’

‘And you think I might be her saviour? I’m not sure I like the sound of that.’

Lady Deardon looked disappointed. ‘Really, William, you can’t be as eager as I thought to find a mother for those children. Here is a respectable young woman with every reason to want a husband, a real possibility, and you say you don’t like the sound of her! You haven’t even met the lady! She certainly isn’t the sort of empty-headed débutante you despise.’

‘No, but I would think twice before saddling myself with a plain, strong-minded spinster of uncertain age. It seems to me that would be a recipe for unhappiness.’

‘Well, why don’t you wait till you see her? She might surprise you. The Winbolts are bound to be at the Langley House ball at the end of the month, so you could meet her there.’

‘Very well—but I make no promises!’

‘I don’t ask you to.’ Nettled by his lack of appreciation of her discovery, Lady Deardon added, ‘After all, Miss Winbolt may not approve of you when she sees you! She is said to be pretty cool in her attitude to men.’

‘Worse and worse! Strong-minded, plain, and now cold-hearted, too! Your poor Miss Winbolt sounds to me like someone born to remain a spinster.’

‘Not my Miss Winbolt, William. And not poor Miss Winbolt, either. I saved the best till last. She has a considerable fortune of her own!’

‘Really? And she hasn’t found a husband for herself all these years? What an antidote she must be!’

‘William!’

‘There must be something wrong with her, ma’am.’

Lady Deardon laughed and gave up. ‘Very well, I can see you are not to be persuaded. We shall say no more about Miss Winbolt.’

* * *

Lady Deardon did not give up her quest entirely. Not much later she greeted William triumphantly with the news that she had found another possible wife for him.

‘She has only been a few months in the neighbourhood, so I met her for the first time today. I found her quite charming. I promise you, William, if you are as hard to please about this lady as you were with Miss Winbolt, I shall wash my hands of you. Her name is Mrs Fenton and she is exactly what you wanted—a rich young widow. Her husband died just over a year ago. She lived round here when she was a girl and has now moved back again. I’m sure you would like her. I thought I might invite her to dinner one evening.’

‘Please do. She sounds more promising than Miss Winbolt. I should be delighted to meet her.’

Mrs Fenton came to dinner. In her early thirties, beautiful, poised and witty, she was just as attractive as Lady Deardon had said. William was definitely intrigued and when he heard that she, too, was to be at the ball at Langley House, he begged the lady to reserve a dance for him.

Meanwhile Emily was suffering the aftereffect of her confession to Rosa. Garden parties became a frequent diversion at Shearings, and as time went on the house saw a succession of riding parties, evening parties, and weekend parties to which Philip’s former Army friends were invited, along with the more respectable of Rosa’s London circle. Plans were in hand, too, to spend the next year’s Season in London. Rosa, anxious to stop her sister-in-law from taking the disastrous step of living alone, had evidently decided that the best solution would be to find a husband for her as soon as possible. Emily watched all the activity, ordered some new dresses and resigned herself to waiting patiently until her loving family realised that she had made up her mind. Sooner or later she would find a comfortable house surrounded by a small park and spend the rest of her days there with a respectable female for company. Meanwhile she would watch the scene before her with her usual calm, slightly ironic, eye.

Of course, invitations were returned, among them an invitation to the ball at Langley House. Rosa was quite excited at the prospect, and as they drove to Langley on the evening of the ball the conversation in the Winbolts’ carriage was of the distinguished guests they would find there.

‘The Langleys have such a wide circle of acquaintances. Maria Fenton is back in the district and will almost certainly be there now that she is out of official mourning. I shall be interested to meet her again. I knew her when I was a girl, Emily. She was a few years older than I was, but she was so lovely that you couldn’t help but notice her. I wonder if she changed after her marriage.’

‘I shouldn’t be surprised,’ said Philip. ‘Edric Fenton was a strange man. Who else is coming?’

‘The Deardons will be there, and I expect they’ll bring a guest of theirs, Sir William Ashenden. They are almost bound to include him in their party. Apparently he has just bought Charlwood.’

‘I can’t imagine what possessed Ashenden to buy that place. Does he know how much it will cost to put in order? A retired naval officer would need something other than his pay to make it habitable,’ said Philip.

Rosa had other matters on her mind. ‘I wonder how old he is…and if he is married,’ she said thoughtfully.

The ball was well under way by the time the party from Shearings arrived. The ladies left their cloaks in a small room set aside for the purpose, then Philip escorted them to the ballroom, where Lady Langley greeted them warmly, ‘You’ve known most of the people here since you were a child, Rosa, dear. But perhaps you haven’t met Lady Deardon? Her table is in the far corner. I shall take you to meet her.’ She added with an arch smile at Emily, ‘Lady Deardon’s visitor is with her. I’m sure Miss Winbolt would like to meet him. Such a distinguished man…’

So Rosa’s efforts to marry her off had not gone unnoticed in the neighbourhood, thought Emily grimly. The idea was so unwelcome that, though she smiled and made a suitable reply, her manner as they were taken down the room to be introduced was distinctly frosty. Lady Deardon regarded Emily with interest, but then turned to Philip and Rosa to say she was alone for the moment, but hoped they would wait till the rest of her party returned. They agreed with pleasure and sat down. Emily gazed round.

Further down the room a gentleman, tall, lithe and assured, was leading a strikingly attractive woman on to the floor. He was smiling as he bent his head to hear what his companion was saying. Little wrinkles fanned out from the corners of his eyes… Emily’s heart missed a beat. For a moment she was frozen. It couldn’t be! It couldn’t possibly be! She was imagining things. The likeness was purely accidental. It couldn’t be Will. Will was a carelessly dressed, carelessly mannered wanderer. He wouldn’t be a guest of one of the neighbourhood’s most stiff-necked families, dancing with one of its most beautiful women. Of course he wouldn’t! She sat for a moment telling herself to be sensible, to stay calm. But she found it quite impossible. The shock had been too great, and the ballroom was suddenly unbearably hot—she needed air, somewhere to recover. Slipping her fan into the arrangement of flowers behind her, she exclaimed, ‘How foolish of me! I seem to have left my fan in the pocket of my cloak. Please excuse me while I fetch it.’ And without waiting for any offers of help she got up and made her way as calmly as she could out of the ballroom.

But once outside she fled to the small boudoir which had been set aside for ladies, where she sat down and requested a glass of water. She was trembling. The man in the ballroom couldn’t possibly be Will. It was a delusion. His face had haunted her dreams for weeks, and now she was beginning to imagine it when she was awake! That must be it. It wasn’t Will, it wasn’t…! She grew cold. But what if it was? Her throat felt dry and she took the proffered glass gratefully. After taking several sips of water, she calmed down again and began to reason sensibly. How could someone who was little more than a vagabond find his way into a house belonging to the Langleys who were one of the county’s highest sticklers? It was impossible. Of course it was! She must have imagined the resemblance.

Rosa came into the room. ‘Have you found your fan? I was sure you had it with you…Emily, is there something wrong?’ She took a closer look at her sister-in-law. ‘Are you feeling the thing? You look a little pale.’

‘I…I felt the heat for a moment. It’s better now. No, I haven’t found it yet. Perhaps I dropped it in the ballroom.’

‘We’ll look for it when we go back. If you’re ready, I want you to come with me to meet the gentleman with Lady Deardon. Philip and I have been talking to him while you were in here and I think he could be the very man for you! He is just as distinguished as Lady Langley said—tall, very well dressed, with such a cultivated, intelligent air. I suspect he has a sense of humour, too. I know you will like him. I can tell Philip does. Do come.’

Emily sighed. Another candidate to save me from my doom, she thought. This time it’s an elderly naval officer. How tired I am of meeting ‘just the man’ for me. In the last few months, ever since I told Rosa of my wish to live alone, I have been introduced to a knight, two baronets, an admiral and what seems like every possible rank of the Army from an ensign to a brigadier… And when we’re in London Rosa will no doubt find distinguished men of letters, artists, poets, diplomats, any one of whom might be ‘just the man for me’… I shall die of a surfeit of suitors! The thought amused her. She was even smiling as she accompanied Rosa back to the ballroom.

But at the door she paused and took a cautious look round. There were plenty of tall gentlemen, but no one who looked remotely like Will. Her imagination had been playing tricks on her. Sighing with relief, Emily followed Rosa to Lady Deardon’s table.

Philip was there, in conversation with a tall, grey-haired gentleman. My goodness, thought Emily, Rosa must be getting desperate. This one is even older than the brigadier! But she smiled charmingly as she curtsied to Lady Deardon, who turned to the gentleman next to her and said, ‘My husband, Sir Reginald Deardon, Miss Winbolt.’

Sir Reginald Deardon! The lady’s husband! Emily had difficulty in suppressing a broad grin at her own mistake. Perhaps Rosa was not as desperate as she had feared! They exchanged a few words, then Lady Deardon said, ‘My godson will be here shortly, Mrs Winbolt. He has just gone to invite Mrs Fenton to join us for a moment. I believe you wanted to talk to her. Here they come.’

Emily regarded at the couple slowly advancing towards them with horrified fascination. They made a striking pair. Mrs Fenton had pale gold hair and very light china-blue eyes. Her black dress was the very latest in fashion, her diamonds magnificent, and she walked up the room with conscious grace, seemingly indifferent to the many admiring glances cast in her direction. Emily’s eyes turned to the gentleman at her side, still hoping for a miracle. Perhaps she had been mistaken, perhaps it was just an extraordinary resemblance. But her heart sank as she looked. It was a nightmare. The gentleman… She swallowed. Lady Deardon’s famous guest was tall, lithe and perfectly assured, completely at home in this gathering of the neighbourhood’s highest society. He was dressed in beautifully tailored evening clothes, immaculate linen, and had a diamond pin in the snowy folds of his cravat. But he was unmistakeably the man who had rescued her from the tree. Will… William… Sir William Ashenden.

The pair drew near. It was certainly Will. No one else could have the same lurking amusement in such dark blue eyes, the same fan of laughter lines at the corners… Her knees grew weak at an unbidden memory of that broad chest under her cheek, the feel of those long legs wrapped round hers, the sensations aroused by his kisses. She suppressed a faint gasp and clutched the back of the chair for support as a mixture of fear and this unfamiliar but powerful feeling almost undid her. Keeping her eyes lowered and her feelings tightly under control, she stiffly acknowledged the introductions that followed. Eventually she made herself look up. His eyes were amused, but she could perceive no sign of recognition in them. She took courage. Why should he recognise her? Who would connect the well-dressed, highly respectable Miss Emily Winbolt with the untidy, bare-legged hoyden, the hussy who had responded to his kisses with such a lack of restraint? She had a reputation for coolness. On this occasion she would make very sure she lived up to it. She had to!

Mrs Fenton’s china-blue eyes had swept over Emily with indifference, but she talked animatedly to Rosa for a moment or two, eyed Philip with lazy interest, then, after receiving an invitation to visit Shearings and thanking them all for their kindness, she excused herself.

‘I hope Sir William will see me safely back to my table,’ she said, waving her fan at him with a smile.

‘At a price, Mrs Fenton,’ he said. ‘On condition that you will dance this waltz with me first.’

‘You drive a hard bargain, sir,’ she said with a delicious pout. ‘But I am in your hands.’

He laughed and offered her his arm to lead her on to the floor.

Emily would have been hard put to it to describe her feelings. Overwhelming relief, certainly. Sir William Ashenden had clearly not recognised her. But mixed with relief there was another less easily defined feeling… What was it? She watched the two dance up the room and decided that she disliked Mrs Fenton. The woman was too confident of her power, too obviously charming. And far too beautiful. Sir William was looking down at her with such admiration in his eyes… With a gasp she pulled herself together again. She should be thanking her stars that ‘her Will’ had not recognised her, not be envious of his attentions to Mrs Fenton!

After the waltz was over William returned Mrs Fenton to her companions and rejoined his godmother. He had enjoyed Maria Fenton’s company, and looked forward to more of it in the future. He was by no means sure, however, that she was what he was looking for in a wife. He had met many such women in his travels, graceful, accomplished, with a gift for amusing conversation. But he was looking for more genuine warmth in the woman he would marry, someone who could not only charm his neighbours at balls and soirées, but would create an affectionate home for his orphans as well. He might be doing the lady an injustice, but he suspected kindness to children would not be a priority with Maria Fenton.

He turned his attention to his godmother’s other choice. Miss Winbolt. At first sight she lacked any kind of warmth. Indeed, her manner was distinctly chilly. But she was hardly the woman Mrs Gosworth had described. She couldn’t be more than four or five and twenty and, far from being jealous of her sister-in-law, their affection for each other was clear. A bit of an enigma then, Miss Winbolt. Perhaps he should make an effort to know her better, if only to please his godmother.

The Winbolts had moved on and were engaged in conversation with a group of friends nearby. Emily Winbolt was standing slightly to one side, talking to Rosa and one of the gentlemen. William examined her from a distance. It was true—compared with her sister-in-law she seemed almost plain. Her hair was drawn back into a neat knot at the back of her head, and though her dress was obviously a London creation, its severity did little to enhance her looks. But her profile had a purity of line that was attractive. And from what he could see, she had quite a good figure… At that point something someone had said amused her and she laughed. William was astonished at the difference it made in her. It was a delightfully deep laugh, full of warmth and genuine enjoyment, and he was visited by a strange feeling that he had met this woman before. She turned as he approached and the laughter died abruptly. He could even have sworn he saw a fleeting expression of alarm in her eyes before she lowered them. But when she looked up again Miss Winbolt was once more the woman who had been described to him. Her eyes contained nothing but chilly indifference. Undeterred, he went up to her and bowed.

‘Miss Winbolt, I know so few ladies here tonight. Dare I request a dance with you?’

The orchestra was warming up for the next set of dances. Miss Winbolt stared at him. He thought for a moment she would refuse, but her sister-in-law said,

‘Be kind to Sir William, Emily. He is to be one of our neighbours soon. Isn’t that so, Sir William?’

‘N…neighbours?’ Miss Winbolt was pale.

‘Charlwood, Miss Winbolt.’ He offered his arm. ‘Shall we? Or shall we look for some refreshment and have a talk about Charlwood?’

‘Oh, no!’ she exclaimed and put her hand on his arm. He was surprised to feel it trembling and felt a sudden, powerful urge to protect her. But from what? What was Miss Winbolt so afraid of?

He was still puzzled as they took to the floor. The urge to comfort persisted, though their conversation when they talked at all was conventional to the point of inanity. She danced well but stiffly, keeping her distance and giving him only the very tips of her fingers to hold when it was needed. By the end of the set he was ready to concede that his first thought had been right, after all—Miss Winbolt was a born spinster.

When the music came to an end William took his partner to the edge of the floor, ready, and indeed relieved, to deliver her back to her family. Then something happened that caused him to change his mind yet again, this time irreversibly.

The behaviour of some of the younger guests had become rather boisterous. And one of them, eager to reach the refreshment tables before his friend, charged into Miss Winbolt. Taken by surprise, she lost her balance and would have fallen, but William caught her. She clung to him for a moment and again he was assailed with a sense of familiarity. Everything about her was familiar, but more than that, it was exciting—the way she held him, the sensation of her body against his, even the scent of her hair. He pulled her closer. The desire to kiss her was almost irresistible…

‘Sir William!’ Her voice was muffled against his chest. ‘You must let me go! Immediately! Please.’ She looked up at him. The look of desperation on her face, in her silver-grey eyes, brought him to his senses.

He stood back and shook his head, feeling more confused and embarrassed than he had for years. What had he been thinking of? ‘Miss Winbolt, I’m sorry. I…I hardly know what to say. I don’t know what happened. That fellow…’

‘Yes, yes. He was to blame.’ She turned away quickly and started towards the doors.

‘Miss Winbolt—’

‘Please. It was an accident. I was shaken. That was why I held on to you so tightly. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.’

‘No, no! You re mistaken—’

Without looking, she interrupted him. ‘You must excuse me. I think I’ve torn the hem of my dress. I must put it right.’ She fled through the doors and he saw her make for the ladies’ boudoir.

It was some time before she reappeared, but William was still deep in thought. She started nervously when she saw him, but took his proffered arm and they began to make their way back into the ballroom. But after a few yards William stopped and turned. ‘I must make sure you have forgiven me,’ he said.

‘For what, Sir William?’ she said stiffly, without turning her head. ‘It was not your fault Edgar Langley knocked me over. You saved me from falling.’

He would have tried again, but she interrupted him as she had before. ‘Pray say no more,’ she said impatiently. ‘It really isn’t necessary. I would rather forget the incident. And now I should like to rejoin my brother. He must be wondering where I am.’

She walked away without another word. William was left a prey to an impossible mixture of thoughts and conjectures.

He was so silent on the way back to Thirle that Lady Deardon asked him if he was not feeling well. When he assured her he was perfectly fit she went on,

‘What did you think of our two ladies? You couldn’t have a greater contrast between the two. Mrs Fenton is almost as lovely in her way as Rosa Winbolt, though older, of course. That dress must have cost a pretty penny, and her diamonds…! She certainly put herself out to charm you, William. Do you like her?’

‘Very well. She is good company.’

‘I don’t fancy the friends she had with her,’ said Sir Reginald unexpectedly. ‘Not quite county.’

‘I didn’t see them, but you are always too much of a stickler, Reggie. I dare say they were friends of her husband. But, William, what about Emily Winbolt? I confess I don’t know what to think of her. That dress probably cost every bit as much as Maria Fenton’s, but it didn’t do half as much for her. She was altogether very plainly dressed.’

‘Ladylike,’ said Sir Reginald. ‘She looked a lady. More than the other one.’

Lady Deardon ignored this comment. ‘She’s not as old as Mrs Gosworth led me to believe, and the story about her sister-in-law is obviously nonsense. Their affection for each other is plain. But she is definitely cool in her manner.’ Lady Deardon looked sharply at her godson. ‘William! Have you heard a word I’ve said? What do you think of Miss Winbolt?’

‘I’m not at all sure,’ said William slowly. ‘But I intend to find out. Did I hear Mrs Winbolt issue you with an invitation to visit Shearings?’

‘Yes, I asked her about its famous gardens and said how much I wanted to see them. We have arranged to go next week.’ Sir Reginald stirred restlessly. ‘You needn’t come, Reggie. William will escort me, won’t you, dear?’

‘I certainly will,’ said her godson. ‘I would very much like to have a closer look at…the gardens.’

Chapter Four

Emily was equally silent on her way home in the Winbolt carriage, though this was not noticed as quickly. Rosa was full of the ball and its guests. ‘Maria Fenton is as lovely as ever,’ she said. ‘But I was disappointed in our conversation. She didn’t seem to be very interested.’

‘My lovely, sweetest Rosabelle,’ said her husband. ‘It was obvious to everyone but you that Mrs Fenton’s eye was on William Ashenden. The beautiful Maria wouldn’t waste much time on another woman, however old a friend she is.’

‘Oh!’ said Rosa. She sounded disconcerted. ‘I thought…I thought Sir William seemed quite taken with Emily. He was certainly attentive enough later on.’

‘No! He wasn’t! He can’t have been!’ Emily said this with such force that both Philip and Rosa regarded her with astonishment. ‘I mean…’ She faltered. ‘I mean we only danced once.’

‘Well, you may not have noticed, but he hardly took his eyes off you after that one dance. Emily, what is wrong? Why do you find the idea that he was interested in you so distressing? I would have said he was exactly the sort of gentleman who would appeal to you. You haven’t taken a dislike to him, have you? I do hope not. We are to see quite a bit of Sir William and the Deardons in the near future.’

‘We are?’ said Emily apprehensively. Her heart sank. How long could she avoid being recognised? She was very much afraid that William Ashenden was too intelligent a man to be deceived for ever. Sooner or later she would say or do something to remind him, and she didn’t like to think of what he might do then. Added to that was this strange power he seemed to have over her. Tonight, she had lost her balance in more ways than one. When she fell against him she had had to fight an overwhelming urge to hold him even closer, to rest her head against him even longer, to hold her head up for his kiss. It had taken every ounce of determination she possessed to stand away. He must have wondered what had come over her. He had certainly been surprised and embarrassed. She sighed. She was just as strongly attracted to him as Rosa could wish. If only she had met him for the first time at Lady Langley’s ball, she might have found someone she could learn to love. But that was now out of the question. She could never relax with him, be herself. It would be too dangerous. When she caught herself sighing again, she told herself to be sensible. It wouldn’t have done much good anyway. Sir William Ashenden was interested in Maria Fenton, a far lovelier woman than she could ever be. Meanwhile she was living with a sword over her head. How long would it be before it fell?

Emily’s worst fears were in the process of being realised. William’s suspicions were already stirring, more because of his own astonishing reactions to her than anything she herself had said or done. He had been surprised at the strength of the desire he had felt for the girl in the hollow and had been quite unable to forget her. For a man who prided himself on his self-control, this was bad enough, but now, within a space of weeks, he had experienced the same degree of desire, this time in the highly civilised atmosphere of a ballroom. And not with a practised charmer like Maria Fenton, but with Miss Emily Winbolt, of all people! He had come damned close to kissing the girl in public! But on thinking it over later, he realised how very odd her reaction had been. Far from being angry with him for holding her longer and more closely than strictly necessary, she had apologised to him! Why? Why had she felt the need to apologise? Miss Winbolt was indeed the enigma he had thought her.

He lay awake that night, still puzzling over her behaviour. The more he thought about it, the stranger it appeared—and not only after that dance either, but throughout the evening. Coolness might have been expected—after all, there was no reason why she should look more kindly on him than on anyone else. But fear? That was the emotion he had seen in her eyes before she had looked away, and her hand had trembled when it rested on his arm. Why? And why had so much about her seemed familiar when he had held her in his arms—her touch, the scent of her hair, her eyes…silver-grey eyes… Those eyes were her outstanding feature—clear silver grey, like the water in the stream which ran along the valley in Stoke Shearings.

The girl in the hollow just above the stream had such eyes, too…silver-grey… A thought came into his head at that point which appeared to be so completely fantastic that he began to wonder whether his obsession with the girl in the hollow was affecting his mind. It was impossible to believe that Emily Winbolt and that girl were one and the same… No, it was quite impossible!

But as the night wore on the idea began to seem no longer quite so absurd. It would explain a lot—her alarm at meeting him tonight, her reluctance to talk to him, the strange sense of familiarity… Was it because he had met her before tonight? Had held her in his arms before? Shearings, where the Winbolts lived, was not far from the spot where he had rescued the girl from the tree, and she had run in that direction. Could it possibly be true? If it were…

William started to smile. What a situation that would be! Emily Winbolt, born spinster, society’s model of rectitude, abandoning herself to making love with a stranger in the fields! What a hypocrite that would make her! He lay for some time thinking about the two women, and fell asleep at last still trying to reconcile what he knew of them.

William had an important appointment the next morning with his architect at Charlwood. But after his sleepless night he had decided to look first at the spot where he had met the girl who had haunted him. He rose early, and instead of setting off towards Charlwood he made for Stoke Shearings. He left his horse once again at the inn and followed the path alongside the stream. The water was as clear as he remembered, the slope above it just as steep. The hedge and even the oak tree where he had first caught sight of her soon came into view. He climbed up the slope and stood beside the oak. Someone had cleared away the broken branch and tidied up the hedge, but it was unmistakeably the spot.

‘You’re not thinking of climbing through that there hedge, are yer, sir?’ William looked down. A man was standing on the path below, shaking his head. He went on, ‘I don’t advise it. It’d be the last short cut yer’d take. There’s a vicious animal in the field on t’other side.’

‘Really?’

‘Black Samson, Farmer Pritchard’s bull. A dangerous beast, if ever there was one.’

‘Thanks for the warning,’ William said. ‘I’ll take note. And you are…?’

‘Will Darby, at your service, sir. I work close by for Mr Winbolt.’ He clambered up the slope and went on, ‘I could tell you a tale or two about that bull, I could. Job Diment. Elias Carter, they’m both still laid up after ’e attacked ’em. Not worked for weeks and weeks, they ’asn’t. Why, it’s not long since Mr Winbolt’s own sister barely got away with her life. Don’t go near ’um!’

‘I certainly shan’t. Miss Winbolt, you say?’

‘Aye, sir. You’m be looking at the very spot where she escaped. Leastways, that’s what Mr Winbolt said when he told us to mend the hedge just where we’re standing. Lucky, that’s what she was. With the branch giving way under ’er and all.’ He looked curiously at William. ‘Be you bound fer Shearings, sir?’

‘’Er, no. Not today. I’m going in the other direction. Well, thank you, Will.’ They clambered down the slope together and William slipped a coin into Will Darby’s hand. ‘I’ll be on my way—and I’ll take your advice and go the long way round!’

To William’s relief Will Darby gave him a toothless grin, touched his cap, and set off without asking any more questions. He had no desire to lie to the man, but nor did he wish to explain what he was doing in that quiet spot at such a very early hour.

William Ashenden suffered from an over-developed sense of humour and a strong sense of the ridiculous. His friends frequently told him that his major fault was a desire to tease. The situation he was in the process of uncovering was so perfectly bizarre, so exactly to his taste that, as he rode on to Charlwood, a bubble of mirth was growing inside him. He was hard put to it not to laugh out loud. Ice-cool Emily Winbolt and his passionate seductress—what an unlikely combination! Soberly dressed Emily Winbolt and a raggle-taggle, bare-legged gipsy girl—what a contrast! Oh, yes! The alarm in Miss Winbolt’s eyes, her fear of him, were both now perfectly understandable. Indeed, she must be worried out of her skin lest he should recognise her and tell the world what she had been up to. His grin broadened. What fun he would have with her! The little cheat deserved a bit of teasing before he put her out of her misery.

For a moment he paused. Did she deserve it? Was she in the habit of finding secret pleasure with strangers? Or was she indeed a respectable woman who had been under the same spell as he had been that day, unable to resist, swept up by some mysterious force? For a moment he hesitated, but then shrugged his shoulders. It wouldn’t do her any lasting harm. Circumstances had forced him to be too serious lately—he felt in need of diversion. The problem of what to do with the children had been worrying. The question of a wife and a home, and the chores associated with renovating Charlwood, had been interesting, but not exactly amusing. A brief spell of teasing Miss Winbolt would provide some light relief. Not for long, though. He couldn’t keep her in suspense for long. And, whatever happened, the affair would be strictly between himself and the lady. She might worry for a short while, but she would understand that the world outside would never learn from him what had happened between them one evening in May.

Rosa’s invitation to the Deardons threw Emily into a panic. She realised that she would sooner or later have to meet William Ashenden again, but this seemed altogether too soon. During the intervening week she attempted to find a dozen reasons why she should not be present, but her sister-in-law frustrated them all. Rosa thoroughly approved of William Ashenden and knew Philip liked him, too. This was enough to persuade her that this was indeed ‘just the man’ to be Emily’s salvation and she was determined to promote the acquaintance. She genuinely could not understand why Emily didn’t agree, and was convinced that once her sister-in-law got to know Sir William better she would acknowledge that Rosa was right. She was disappointed, therefore, when Emily appeared just before Lady Deardon and Sir William were due to arrive.

‘Emily! You have so many pretty summer dresses! Why on earth are you wearing that one?’

‘What’s wrong with it?’

‘It’s…it’s so dull. And surely you’d be cooler in one that didn’t fasten right up to the neck? Why didn’t you wear your new pale green muslin? It’s so pretty, and the colour suits you perfectly.’

‘I’ve decided that it is cut too low, Rosa. I prefer this one.’

Rosa was not finished. ‘And what have you done to your hair?’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s more suited for a walk through a cloister than a summer afternoon in the garden!’

Emily, who had taken pains to make herself as unlike the girl who had fallen out of that tree as possible, was pleased, but did her best to sound offended. ‘I’m sorry you don’t like the way I look,’ she said. In fact, she agreed with Rosa’s every word. Her dress was plain, in an unflattering shade of grey, and fastened up to the top. Much to her maid’s distress, she had insisted on having her hair pulled back and twisted into a low, tight knot at the back of her neck. Fashionably thin sandals, her usual wear in summer, had been replaced with boots. Emily had decided not to give in without a fight. She would deceive William Ashenden for as long as she could, until she could decide how to deal with him. She heard the sound of a carriage drawing up at the door. ‘But I’m afraid it’s too late to change my dress now,’ she said, doing her best to put a note of regret into her voice.

Philip and Rosa made their guests welcome, then led them into the garden. All five walked about in it for an hour or more, Emily using considerable ingenuity to avoid William’s company. When Rosa suggested they should sit in the shade for a while Lady Deardon accepted with pleasure, and the party made its way to a cool arbour, which had been furnished with a table, chairs and one or two benches. Here they sat down—all of them except Sir William.

‘You said something about an avenue of trees planted by your great-grandfather, I believe, Winbolt? I’d like to see them. Perhaps Miss Winbolt could show me the way and tell me about them?’

‘What a good idea,’ exclaimed Rosa. ‘She knows almost as much about the grounds as my husband, Sir William. I’m sure she would be delighted to be your guide. And you must ask her to show you the maze. The Shearings maze was once quite famous, but it was in a sad state before Philip and Emily restored it, along with the rest of the gardens.

‘A maze? That sounds very interesting. Miss Winbolt?’ He held out his arm.

Emily stared at him hopelessly. ‘I…I don’t think…’ she began and then stopped. She couldn’t come up with a single reason why she should refuse to go with him, except that she didn’t want to!

‘I do hope you can oblige him, Miss Winbolt,’ said Lady Deardon. ‘A large number of the trees at Charlwood are old and decayed, and will have to be replaced. William is becoming quite an expert on the subject. He has already inspected the plantations at Thirle. I’m sure he will find your avenue very interesting.’

Emily smiled weakly and took his arm. Sir William’s request was harmless enough. To persist in refusing, especially after his godmother’s encouraging words, would seem ungracious, and might well make him suspicious. But go into the maze with him she would not!

Once they were out of sight of the arbour Sir William stopped and asked, ‘Is something upsetting you, ma’am? The sun, perhaps? Or are you tired? We could easily sit somewhere and talk, if you would prefer it.’

‘No!’ exclaimed Emily with more vigour than politeness. Her companion raised one eyebrow and regarded her with surprise. But she could have sworn there was more than a touch of laughter in his eyes.

‘I mean…I like w-walking,’ she stammered. She took a breath. This would never do. If she was to impress this man with the contrast between the gipsy in the hollow and Miss Emily Winbolt, she should watch her responses! They walked on in silence while Emily tried frantically to think of something to say. After a while she said with commendable calm, ‘My sister-in-law tells me you were in the Navy. Have you seen much action?’

‘When I first joined, yes. But the Navy is no place for a man in peacetime, Miss Winbolt. So I took the… bull by the horns and sold out.’ Emily was startled. She almost stumbled. Had he meant anything by that pause in front of ‘bull’? She stole a glance at him but he looked unconcerned, and she was reassured as he went on, ‘I was in the West Indies at the time, so I went off to explore South America.’

‘How interesting. Where did you go? Brazil?’ To her relief the conversation that followed as they walked through the grounds was very conventional, mostly about his impressions of Mexico and Brazil. Emily began to relax.

But then he said, ‘But we’ve talked enough about me. These trees are truly splendid specimens. Are they oaks?’

‘Oaks? N…no! They are lime trees, I believe. There are one or two oaks scattered about the grounds, but they’ve been used as specimen trees.’

‘I saw a splendid old oak the other day. But sadly, it had lost one of its major branches.’

‘Oh?’

Sir William laughed. ‘In fact, I met one of your brother’s men there. A Will Darby. Do you know him?’

He knows, thought Emily. I’m sure he knows. But she suppressed any hint of fear and said calmly, ‘Of course I know him. He’s one of the grooms. Have you seen enough of the trees, sir? I think I’ve shown you the best of them.’

‘He warned me about a dangerous bull that was kept in the field where the oak grew.’

Emily put on a puzzled frown, then said, ‘Ah, yes! I think I know the one you mean. That would be Farmer Pritchard’s bull. Black Samson. Shall we turn back now?’

They turned and started to walk back towards the gate to the gardens. But her tormentor was not to be put off. ‘Of course I already knew about the bull,’ he went on. ‘I had seen it before when I was last in Stoke Shearings.’

This time the twinkle in his eye was even more marked. Was he playing some sort of cat-and-mouse game with her? Emily felt a spurt of anger. She was not about to weaken. She must keep her head and marshal her wits.

‘You’ve been here before? I can’t remember meeting you…?’

He went on, ‘I had a walk along the stream through the valley when I was last here, too. It’s a beautiful spot. You know it?’

Emily nodded.

‘Very steep sides to it, of course. I would have called on your brother, while I was staying in the village, but lost my way during the day, and…’ Emily stiffened. He shook his head and went on apologetically, ‘With one thing and another, by the time I got back to the inn it was too late.’

‘Really?’ she said with admirable indifference.

Her adversary was not deterred. He said, ‘I wish I had made the time now.’

The meaning was plain and she decided that this was the moment to stall him. ‘I am sure my brother would have made you very welcome, Sir William,’ she said primly. ‘So would my sister-in-law.’

‘And you?’

She gave him a smile full of insincere regret. ‘Alas, I was not here at the time. I…I was with my g-grandfather in London.’ She shouldn’t have added that last bit. She had stammered. Rosa had always said that she wasn’t a good liar.

The silence grew. ‘Now that does surprise me,’ he said at last.

‘Why?’ Emily asked with a touch of belligerence.

‘Because…’ He regarded her with amusement as she lifted her chin. Then he went on, ‘Because London would have been so crowded at that time of year. The middle of June, wasn’t it?’

‘No, the middle of May.’

‘Oh, yes. So it was. How did you know?’

‘How should I not know when I pay visits to my grandfather, Sir William?’

‘Quite! But how did you know that it was May when I was in the district?’

They had reached the gate at the end of the trees. Emily had never been so thankful in her life to reach a simple gate. ‘My sister-in-law will be wondering where we are,’ she said and hurried through, deliberately letting the heavy gate swing to behind her. It must have hurt when it hit him, but apart from a swiftly drawn breath he gave no sign, and soon caught up with her again. They were just by the entrance to the maze and she attempted to hurry past. He took her arm and stopped her flight.

‘But, Miss Winbolt! Isn’t this the entrance to the famous Shearings maze? You can’t have forgotten that Mrs Winbolt particularly wished me to see it. She would surely be disappointed if I said I hadn’t even ventured inside. Shall we go in?’

‘Oh, but I…’ Without quite knowing how he did it, Emily found herself being led into the maze, where they were soon surrounded by a high wall of hedges. But, she thought grimly, if Sir William Ashenden thought she was about to wander idly through the maze with him, he would find he was mistaken. The situation was far too dangerous for her peace of mind. She knew the maze inside out and had every intention of losing him as soon as she could. Within minutes she had taken a swift turn to the right, then another, then hurried along to the left. Slightly out of breath, she stopped and looked round. There was no sign of him. She waited a moment or two, then, smiling with satisfaction, she turned a corner to make her way out. Sir William was there, sitting on a bench that had been placed to rest the weary at the centre of the maze.