“Not as tenants?”
“No. The locals have been told it came to the Hearle family after Martin’s death, but there is general outrage that Sophie is not living there, in the family home. A widow should never be unceremoniously turfed out of her home, they say, and I cannot argue the point. There is outrage, too, that the house is not in my hands, now that I am home. One or two people have guessed who I am, but they will not betray me. It has been useful, for they talk more readily than they would to a stranger. But the news is not all bad. The Hearles are not well liked, but the estate is not ill-managed. Martin put a good steward in place, and the Hearles have not interfered. I shall continue with him when I come into my inheritance.”
“And when do you come of age?”
“January.”
“So in six months, you can go to the lawyers and claim back what is rightfully yours,” Izzy said.
“And then these grasping Hearles will be out on their miserable ears,” Olly said with satisfaction.
***
The ride back to Harringdon Hall began pleasantly. Nothing untoward seemed to be happening at Bayton House, and Olly was happy to stay in the village for a few more days, since Izzy had refilled his purse. Izzy felt she had come to know Barty a little better, and was reassured that he would always have a home with Olly, wherever that home might be. Even her reluctant mount seemed invigorated by her rest and broke into a spontaneous canter.
They had not gone very far before another rider could be seen, a little distance away but heading roughly the same direction. The rider saw them, and diverted his route to intercept them.
“Should we retreat?” Barty said. “I have no weapon with me, other than a knife.”
“No, I think I know him… yes, it is Mr Davenport,” Izzy said. “Let us wait for him.”
Sydney soon caught up with them. “Well met!” he called out as he approached. “Are you returning to the Hall?”
“We are,” Izzy said.
“Then we may ride together.” To Barty, he said, “Ride on. I shall escort Lady Farramont home.”
Home.If she had married Sydney, this would indeed have been her home, set in terrain even more bleak and windswept than Corland Castle. Here she would have passed endless dark months of snow and bitter rain each winter, with the journey to London even longer and more fraught. Would she even have reached London? Sydney had not been there for four years, and perhaps he would have expected his wife to stay away, too, and how could she have borne it?
She shivered.
“Are you cold?” he said at once. “We can gallop if you wish.”
“On this slug? I think not.”
He chuckled. “The stables here are not equipped for a spirited rider like you, Izzy. Is that Tabitha’s habit? It swamps you!”
“She is a little larger than I am.”
“A little! She used to be such a skinny little thing, as a girl, but marriage has put flesh on her.”
“No, a liking for syllabub and cake has put flesh on her, but her husband seems not to mind. He was pushing the raspberry creams in her direction at dinner.”
“Well, Foskett is not exactly slender himself any more. In his case it is the roast mutton washed down with far too much claret that brought pressure to bear on his waistcoat buttons. I confess my waistcoats are a trifle larger than they used to be, too, whereas you— You have not changed at all, Izzy.” He smiled at her with unmistakable affection. “Nor is it merely your appearance which remains unaltered. When I saw you last night setting the dinner table alight, just as you used to do, I was very envious of Foskett and Cousin Jack. I wished I were sitting next to you, instead of them.”
“I am always at my best in lively company,” she murmured.
“True, which makes it more of a puzzle why you ever married Farramont, who is the least lively person in the Kingdom. But your animation, the way you sparkle like a thousand diamonds, is precisely what I have always loved about you. Oh, you need not raise your eyebrows at me in that disbelieving way. I loved you desperately that spring, you know it perfectly well, and there is a corner of my heart that will always be yours, but we should not have suited at all. You are too expensive for me, and I could never have made you happy, truly I could not.”
Too expensive? Marsden had said the same. Ian had never complained about the money she cost him, but he must feel it, given his penchant for the account books. He must sigh over the cost of replacing yet more broken things, and all the travelling she did. Guiltily, she acknowledged the truth of Sydney’s accusation, but she also knew that she would not have been happy married to him.
“I think you are right about that,” she said. “I should have gone mad here, so wild and so far from civilisation.”
“There is civilisation outside London, Izzy,” he said with the gentle smile that she remembered so well.
“Of course there is — in the cities and towns, and in the great houses. But where are they? Not here, that much is certain. Yourfamily, pleasant enough though they are, do not invigorate me the way London does. I have to have exuberant life about me, Sidney.”
“And again, I wonder why you married Farramont. Please tell me it was not for the title.”
