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He looked out of the window as if to deflect the emotion in his own words as he said, ‘Because everything about you concerns me.’ She clasped her hands together to contain her dawning delight as he continued, ‘I’ve told you already that to have my life saved is one thing, but to wish to go on living is quite another. And you have done that for me, Miss Appleby. I now cannot put my hope in any other but you.’

What does this mean? Leonora’s heart was beating out a rhythm that she felt sure would wake Nanny P. Lord Rokeby’s gaze returned to her as she said in the quietest of voices, ‘I thought my chance of love was gone but then I met you. Until that moment I had not known how lonely I have been, how much I longed…’ She paused, afraid of revealing so much of her heart.

He leant forward and said softly, ‘Say it, Miss Appleby. You need hide nothing from me.’

Leonora took a breath and continued, ‘…how much I longed for love.’ Her face was shining. ‘Since that meeting in the lane, thoughts of you have filled my empty dreams and measured my days.’

‘Ah, when my coach nearly ran you over?’ he murmured, then reaching for her, he gently stripped off her glove and cradled her hand in both of his, his warmth radiating through her. Leonora looked down and held her breath. She felt her soul lay in his grasp. To love and be loved, was that not all there was? A bubble of joy rose in her breast.

He held her hand fast, gripped with his own emotion. ‘You’ve reminded me of who I used to be; my heart, a burnt-out ember, is now aflame and I cannot bear that spark to die.’

Her voice quivered with happiness as she said, ‘How can it die, my lord? Once lit, is not the flame of love eternal?’

‘That’s a lofty thought, Miss Appleby.’ He smiled. ‘You mean like music and the stars, the wind, waters, and the sky?’

Lord Rokeby released her and looked away as if he feared the force of feeling between them. ‘I have travelled Europe and swum its seas. I have been to hell and back.’ He met her rapt gaze with a rueful smile. ‘And yet my happiness was here all along, in the village where I was born, with the woman who lives in the Manor next door.’

Laughter bubbled out of Leonora as from a released spring. ‘We both had to leave in order to find our way home,’ she said.

The Earl shifted in his seat and said in a steadier voice, ‘I have some of my old regimental friends coming to the Abbey for four days’ rest and recuperation.’ He caught her eye again and the current of passion flashed between them. ‘When they have gone, perhaps, Miss Appleby, you would honour me with your company? With Mrs Priddy too, of course.’

At the sound of her name, Nanny P opened her eyes. ‘Oh, goodness. Where are we on the journey, my lord?’

‘Just an hour left. We have fresh horses and will soon be home.’

They fell into silence. At the sight of the familiar hedgerows and trees, Leonora knew that round the next corner the village would be in sight, nestling in its fold in the Downs. Achille had also woken up and stood at the window close to her, sniffing the air. Spring had truly arrived, with apple blossom in the orchards and cowslips in the fields. The green verges were abundant too with bluebells and wood anemones, campion, celandine and the mysterious medieval sleeves of lords-and-ladies pressing up through the grass. Excitement rose in Leonora’s breast. She was home.

As the carriage drew up in front of the portico of the Manor, Lord Rokeby handed down both women. Mrs Priddy led the way, but he held Leonora back. Her hand was still ungloved, and he entwined his fingers with hers in a fleeting gesture of intimacy that left her breathless. He bowed his head and said with quiet intent, ‘My spirit rests at last now you are home.’ His glance was suddenly shy. ‘When my friends have left, may I send for you?’

Leonora nodded, her heart too full to trust her voice. The Rokeby coach turned in the drive and his lordship tipped his hat as he climbed back into its plush interior. Leonora noticed his limp and her heart was touched. Here was a man prepared to give his life for his country. And this hero was hers.

The Earl sat back in the seat with a sigh. He looked down at his right hand where the middle finger had been torn away by a French artillery shot. Could Miss Appleby really love such an imperfect figure of a man? And yet he could not now envision life without her.

A sense of necessity and desire gripped his spirit. The force of will and endeavour that had characterised his life now made Alistair Rokeby impatient to grasp every precious second left to him, to live fully with his new countess by his side. Already more relaxed now that she was within reach, he inhaled the breezy scent of the country that fizzed in his lungs. What happiness to relinquish the clanging city, the soot-laden air, the press of people and the posturing coxcombs and coquettes, for this sweet green land and the only woman he loved.

Even the burden of guilt for his brother’s death, and the sense he was an imposter sitting on the ancestral seat, began to shift its oppressive weight. Alistair Rokeby sighed with satisfaction as his carriage started the descent to the Abbey. He had spent too long wishing he had never agreed to that schoolboy pact, carrying for ever the conviction that it should have been him to die in a foreign field. But even these years of regret faded with the promise of a new life; he had survived and must now honour his felled brother by living that life to the hilt. Lord Rokeby exhaled as if for the first time and felt this breath as freedom. For this, for Leonora, for love, he would give all he had been and could be, and the thought soothed his soul.

As the coach pulled up in front of the ancient building, Lord Rokeby climbed out and looked up at the atmospheric ruin looming into the blue above, with the welcoming house nestled in beside it, and was overcome with emotion. He wished he could see his brother again and say thank you. But this could never be, and Alistair Rokeby straightened his shoulders and entered the ancestral home he loved with new gratitude and at last a sense of right.

Leonora and Nanny P settled in the room by the kitchen to sort out the menus for the week ahead. ‘I don’t know when we will be transferring to the Lodge, but I think Mr Lockwood will soon be wishing to move in here and prepare for his new bride.’ As Leonora spoke those words for the first time, she felt a fillip in her heart. How much she had hoped it would be Charlotte taking her place as the chatelaine of her beloved house, but now it was about to happen, she could not quite erase the underlying pulse of loss.

Mrs Priddy looked across at her with an anxious frown. ‘Oh Nora, it’ll be a wrench I know, but you will be moving soon to an even more beautiful place, will you not?’ Her eyes had dropped again to the list of meals in her lap.

Before Leonora could answer with a laugh that she was presuming a great deal, there was a tap at the door and Milly entered with a message from Cook. ‘Curate Fopling has sent across a haunch of venison to welcome you home, so she can cook that any day this week.’

‘Thank you, Milly.’ Leonora looked across at Mrs Priddy. ‘What a thoughtful gesture.’

Milly hesitated and then blurted out, ‘All the female servants at the Abbey, apart from Mistress Plum, the cook, have been given four days off-duty, Miss.’ Nanny P met Leonora’s startled glance but Leonora would not reveal any of her shock to Milly, whom she could see was already agog with lurid speculation.

‘Thank you for that information, but I’m afraid the Manor cannot do without you.’ Milly left, closing the door behind her. Leonora felt unable to express her sudden fears, even to her old nanny. She said in an equable voice, ‘Lord Rokeby told me some of his military friends were visiting for a few days. He did say they were rather a wild set. Perhaps he didn’t care to have his servants upset by their language and drunkenness?’ But a cold trickle of foreboding deflated some of the ecstasy in her heart.

The next days were unseasonably hot and sultry with a threat of thunder. Leonora longed to reacquaint herself with the beautiful lake and plunge in for a swift, exhilarating swim. But she did not wish to visit it when Lord Rokeby’s friends were in residence. As she was walking past the Vicarage, Mrs Mildmay rushed out, a letter in her hand. ‘Charlotte is due home tomorrow! I’m busy devising a special welcome dinner for her; would you and Mrs Priddy come too?’

‘Of course, it will be so good to hear her news.’ Leonora took Mrs Mildmay’s hands and squeezed them.

Mrs Mildmay then imparted a less happy piece of news. ‘Oh, but have you also heard? The village gossips are clacking; they say things at the Abbey are as bad as the days when the old Earl was still alive.’

Leonora found her heart so constricted she could hardly breathe. ‘No?’