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Lord Rokeby was watching both their faces, an inscrutable gleam in his eye. ‘Miss Blythe, is there anyone who could accompany you to London?’

Charlotte was suddenly animated and leant forward. ‘My lord, I have no lady’s maid, but I would be much consoled if I could go to London in the company of Miss Appleby.’

For a moment Lord Rokeby looked disconcerted and glanced at Leonora with a curl of amusement on his lips. ‘What? Deprive me of my best piano-forte tuner?’

Leonora was taken aback by both Charlotte’s request and his lordship’s not entirely ironic reply. She was uncertain whether she wished to go to London to join the glittering social whirl, but she was nevertheless growing impatient with her life of quiet contentment and narrowed horizons. Now a voice long suppressed, a cry for adventure and the thrill of the new, quickened her pulse. She was aware of Lord Rokeby’s gaze on her face. ‘What say you, Miss Appleby? Do you exchange the solid known pleasures of Hasterleigh for the meretricious diversions of the city?’ He seemed amused at the dilemma.

‘If I can take Mrs Priddy then I might care to see what London has to offer,’ Leonora answered carefully. ‘It would be novel to see sights of which I have only ever read.’

‘Well, I’m disappointed in you, Miss Appleby. I took you for a steadier type, but now know you are as giddy as the next feather-brained miss!’ And he chuckled. Achille had walked to his side and was nudging his arm with his long shaggy snout. Lord Rokeby ruffled his hound’s ears and murmured, ‘J’arrive tout de suite, mon ami.’ Turning to his visitors, he said in a business-like way, ‘I’ve probably given you enough to consider for now, Miss Blythe. Take this document concerning your dowry and the Countess’s letter addressed to you. We’ll meet again and I can answer any more questions you might have then.’

Lord Rokeby accompanied Charlotte and Leonora to the stables, Achille loping beside him. He explained that his dog had grown used to him accompanying him as he rode out in the late afternoon, and made a fuss if this routine was ignored. ‘Jupiter will be saddled up ready. The grooms are as much in thrall to Achille as I am.’

‘I am impressed by your stables, Lord Rokeby.’ Leonora’s eyes rested on the beautiful horses in various degrees of activity, from grooming to being ridden out for exercise by the stablemen and rubbed down on their return.

Lord Rokeby looked across at Jupiter, his magnificent black hunter, fully saddled up and waiting with some impatience, pawing the ground. ‘My favourite warhorse was also black and called Jupiter, and he was cut down in the same cavalry charge that felled my brother and myself. A soldier’s love for his charger can never be surpassed. But as my first Jupiter died, my second was being born in the stables here. He and Achille are the loves of my life.’ Despite the emotion of his words, Lord Rokeby’s voice was quiet and cool.

Clover was again found loosely tethered under the tree and the Earl offered his hand to help Charlotte climb onto the seat. Just as Leonora was about to climb up herself, he put out his hand to her. She hesitated then took it, and his other hand grasped her waist to assist her effortless ascent into the gig. The gesture took Leonora aback; the pressure of his hand against her hip, even through her pelisse, conveyed an unexpected strength and the fleeting intimacy of his touch sent a frisson through her. She glanced at him; had he too felt this or was it just her fancy? she wondered. His gaze met hers for a second and then he nodded in farewell. Both women waved goodbye as Clover trotted out of the stable yard towards the drive. Leonora looked back and saw Lord Rokeby spring into Jupiter’s saddle. With Achille by his side, his horse’s hooves clattered over the cobbles, his tail raised like a jaunty flag, as man, horse and hound headed towards the ruins and the great parterre that led to the lake.

4

PERILS OF THE COUNTRY AND ATTRACTIONS OF TOWN

The journey back to the Manor was silent for different reasons from those on the way out. Both Leonora and Charlotte were not quite sure what had transpired but were aware their worlds had tilted on their axes. Charlotte stole a glance at Leonora. ‘I’m sorry to have blurted out that I hoped you’d come with me to London. I should have asked you first.’

Leonora still had her eyes on the road, manoeuvring Clover past a cart overfilled with hay. ‘I quite understand that you were as much taken by surprise as I was.’ Only when they had returned to Hasterleigh Manor and Martin had taken Clover back to the stables were the young women able to talk properly about the afternoon’s revelations.

They settled in the snug sitting room by the kitchen and Cook brought in a pot of tea and some ginger biscuits, still warm from the stove. Both looked a little pale and sipped some tea before Leonora said, ‘Well! What a change of course in your life.’

Charlotte’s words tumbled out in a rush. ‘I’m gratified indeed to know who my father is. I’d always wondered about who I was and where I came from; children in the village claimed I’d been delivered by the stork which made me feel somehow strange. Now I know half my real story, it gives me the foundation I have always longed for.’ She was quiet for a minute. ‘But I wish he weren’t of such noble birth, with all the extra complications. And I wish he were still alive and I could know him.’ She paused to take a bite of her biscuit. ‘And I really wonder now about my mother. How I would love to know her and hope she has been happy.’

‘Well, you can get to know your father’s brother and grandmother, so that will give you more of a connection with the Rokeby side of the family.’

‘Lord Rokeby is so forbidding and severe. So injured too. And how fearsome his grandmother sounds; even Lord Rokeby says it, and he’s been to war!’

Leonora pointed out reasonably, ‘Perhaps you’ll discover the Rokebys are more fearsome in reputation and demeanour than in deed.’

‘Perhaps, but even my father’s portrait shows him accoutred for war and unapproachable. A hero figure, which excites me, but how could someone like me be interesting to someone like him?’

‘Come now, Lottie. You have this chance for a life different from anything you may have dreamed. You are young and beautiful and will now be an excellent marriage prospect!’

‘Oh dear!’ Her head drooped.

‘Why “oh dear”? It will be good for you to be courted. To be married with your own household and family would be a fine thing.’

‘Why not for you too then?’

‘You know that had Captain Worth lived, I would be married, likely with my own family. But it was not to be.’ She poured out another cup of tea and changed the subject with a brusque tone in her voice. ‘You have a London Season to prepare for. We have to be practical. First, we must sort out your wardrobe. See what dresses we can refurbish and trim with braid, lace and ribbons, new buttons, tassels and every kind of frill and furbelow. I’ve heard dresses are getting flouncier.’

‘Ah, but you’ll have to do the same with your wardrobe! You’ll be attending all the balls and parties too.’ Charlotte’s expression had recovered its mischief.

‘Thank you, Lottie, for ejecting me from my comfortable life in the country!’

‘Well, a part of me too would rather stay here, where I’m happy and known.’

‘That is no longer your choice it seems. We’ll have to go to Windsor soon to order some new fashionable clothes.’ Leonora ticked off on her fingers until she ran out of digits: ‘Morning and afternoon gowns, walking dresses, riding habits, ball gowns, every kind of tippet, pelisse, spencer, cloak and shawl. Not to mention your stays, petticoats, nightwear and bonnets and caps. Oh and I forgot, footwear for every occasion.’

‘My heart fails me!’ Charlotte groaned as her head fell to her hand.