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The young man smiled. ‘How could I say it better?’ Angelica and Mary left the men standing on the pavement as they walked up the front steps and entered the warmth of the Asprey house.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time Angelica descended the stairs from her room to read in the library, as she had promised Elinor she would do. She noticed a note on the central table in Ivor Asprey’s distinctive hand, next to a small pile of three leather volumes.

If you need something more edifying to the soul to read – Mr Scott’s Waverley. Lord B recommended the novel to me when I met him at Lady Melbourne’s, the best he had read for years, he said, better than all the ‘feminine trash’. I suspect in his severe judgement your play might belong in that category.

That made her laugh. She sat down on the sofa and began to read. With the force of both the author’s imagination and her own she was almost at once swept into the heart of Jacobite Scotland. So engrossed was she that she jumped with a gasp when the door was flung open and Elinor Asprey dashed into the room with a cry and threw herself on Angelica’s breast.

‘What’s the matter?’ She tried to lift the sobbing girl’s face, but she was hiccoughing between the sobs and could not utter a coherent sentence. ‘Calm down, my dear, then tell me what’s troubling you so.’

In between gasps and blowing her nose, the girl stuttered out in woeful tones, ‘I’ve angered Miss Stafford and I’m afraid she’ll leave me.’

‘I’m sure she won’t leave.’ Angelica was patting her thin back.

With her eyes rimmed red with crying, Elinor piteously said, ‘You see, I asked her to marry Mr Digby. I so want her to be happy and stay with me forever. But she was cross and said I was very presumptuous.’ Her voice faded with a gasp. ‘And that I had disappointed her.’

‘I’m sure her displeasure is fleeting. She will not take lasting offence, you know.’ Angelica’s heart was touched by the child’s distress. She too had been presumptuous in her interfering comments to Elinor’s father and felt ashamed and wished to reassure the girl, and in a way reassure herself too.

‘Mama left me a letter she wrote before she died. She said I have a gift for knowing what will make people happy. She told me to always have courage and be kind.’ She hung her head, overcome by the memory. ‘I try not to interfere and tell people what I think, but I do know Miss Stafford and Mr Digby would be happy together.’

‘I’m sure you’re right. But it’s better to leave people to discover these things for themselves.’

‘I think Miss Stafford knows already. Perhaps it’s Mr Digby who doesn’t realise happiness is there for him to take.’ She sobbed again. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything, I know.’

‘You should also read less romantic literature.’ Angelica smiled.

Elinor’s sense of humour came to her aid and she giggled through the tears. ‘At least I haven’t told Papa what I think about Lady Linus.’ She spontaneously threw her arms around Angelica, who gave a surprised laugh. ‘You see, I can be kind and have courage. I did hold my tongue!’

‘Well, that is a good thing at least.’ There was a knock at the door and Miss Stafford entered. She walked across to the sofa.

‘Good afternoon, Miss Leigh. I’m glad to see you so restored.’ She smiled and then turned to her charge. ‘Elinor, I am sorry for my sharp tongue. I know your presumption comes from a truly kind heart.’

Elinor Asprey stood before her governess and said with contrition in her voice, ‘I apologise, Miss Stafford, for speaking of matters that don’t concern me.’

Sarah Stafford put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I can see why you should think my future does concern you. I can assure you that I won’t be leaving this house while you need me.’

The young girl gave her a quick hug and then sat down, a doleful expression clouding her face. ‘But Miss Leigh is leaving to go home tomorrow. We shall all miss her.’

Angelica looked from one to the other. ‘Ah, but Berkeley Square is not very far away. You and Miss Stafford can come and see me for tea.’

Miss Stafford had put another log on the fire and picked up a shawl from the back of the sofa and put it over Angelica’s knees. ‘Above all, you must keep warm, Miss Leigh.’ She then put out a hand for her charge. ‘Come now, my dear. Mr Digby is waiting to have supper with you and me, so we must bid Miss Leigh goodnight.’

Angelica was touched by the child. She had something brave and passionate-hearted in her nature that reminded her of herself when young. She would miss her too. She opened the first volume of Waverley again and before too long the warmth in the room, the crackle of the fire and the failing evening light made her eyes close and sleep come, the book still open in her lap. Not even a maid entering quietly to light the candelabra on the table beside her woke her. She was on the Scottish moors on some undeclared adventure; despite the wildness and the wind she was warm and secure. She could see a mighty stag on the distant crag and had to get to his side, but knew not how to cross the valley.

* * *

Ivor Asprey left Parliament early. He walked up from Westminster, tired and cold, and found himself longing for his chair by the fire and a glass of warming brandy in his hand. Entering through his familiar front door, he gave his hat and coat to Goodall. ‘Where’s my daughter?’

‘She’s with Miss Stafford having her supper.’

‘Good, I’ll see her later.’ He walked through the hall towards the library and opened the door. The room was warm and welcoming with a well-established fire burning in the grate. His chair awaited him, the decanter of brandy glinting in the firelight, but the atmosphere was changed. On the sofa a woman slept like some young goddess, or Ophelia, so still, so beautiful and unexpected. For a shocking instant he wondered if she was dead and started forward. Then he noticed the colour in her cheeks, the rise and fall of her breast, and was consoled. Her Botticellian hair had come partly undone and curled round her face and over one shoulder and her shawl had slipped to the floor, revealing her neat feet and ankles. She looked completely at home.

With a jolt of his heart Mr Asprey realised how much he missed having a woman in his life, how much he would miss Angelica Leigh. He had grown accustomed to her presence, even if she herself was mostly unseen, but the light-heartedness and grace that had newly settled on his household could only be due to her.

He walked quietly to her side and picked up the shawl to drape across her prone figure. As he straightened it under her chin, Angelica’s eyes flew open. Still lost in her dream, they were soft and unfocussed. But then she met his intense blue gaze and in an involuntary movement raised her hand to gently touch his face with a finger as if to see if he was real.

It was a moment of being in which time stood still. This mystical connection only lasted seconds and it was Angelica who was the first to break the spell. She sat up with a start and straightened her skirts. ‘Oh! Mr Asprey, forgive me. I must have fallen asleep.’ As colour rushed into her cheeks, she continued, ‘I was dreaming of a great stag on the Scottish moors.’ She tried to smooth her hair and twist it back into a bun.