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“I suppose the big house will be full of all and sundry for the wedding,” she said.

“At least Grandfather Cole will be here…” Cassie began.

Honoria looked up from her tea. “Oh, I didn’t think he liked the country much.”

“I think he misses the boys.” Cassie did not reveal that Raven had told her that Grandfather Cole had asked lots of questions about Honoria.

Grandmama rose. “You’ve done well, girl, better than you ever would have in London. I suppose I may tell your Sir Adrian now that you will one day inherit the hall.”

“Not too soon, Grandmama, I hope,” said Cassie.

*

Cassie and Raven emerged from the last patch of woods on the Wormley side of road. They had been to see Mr. Montford about their wedding plans. Mr. Montford would call the banns for three weeks, and they would be married on the third, the first Sunday of October in St. Andrews Church among their family and friends. Wenlocke was to give Cassie away.

In the blue September sky overhead, clouds massed for a storm, so they hurried a bit. But coming to the road, a pair of unmistakable voices raised in argument stopped them on their side of the hedge. Raven caught Cassie’s hand, and she threw him a glance over her shoulder.

“Don’t be tiresome, Bel. You must get down.” Cassie recognized Tyne’s voice.

“Why? It’s not my fault we’re in the ditch.”

“Your silly little ponies have landed us here.”

“Don’t you blame my ponies, Tyne. I should never have let you drive.”

“Get down, Bel.”

“I won’t.”

“Fine, be stubborn. It’s going to rain.”

Cassie turned to Raven. They had to cross the road, so a meeting was unavoidable. She knew he would never choose to see Amabel again, but Amabel and Tyne were no threat to the happiness Cassie and Raven had. “We should help,” she whispered to him. He nodded a tight-lipped agreement and helped her up the embankment through an opening in the hedge and onto the road.

There, a cream-colored phaeton, with its top folded back, and pulled by two stocky golden ponies with yellow manes, stood, its body on a tilt, its left rear wheel in the ditch.

“Can we offer any assistance?” Raven asked.

Amabel and Tyne whipped around to face them. Both faces flashed shock, annoyance, contempt, and chagrin.

“No,” Tyne said.

“Yes,” Amabel said. “We’ll be soaked, and my hat will be ruined. Make him help you, Tyne.”

“I think, you misunderstand your circumstances, Lady Amabel. Sir Adrian has offered to help. Lord Tyne may accept if he chooses.” Cassie went to the ponies’ heads. They looked heated and distressed. The weight of the stuck carriage must be pulling at them. She rubbed the soft muzzles and reassured them that they would soon be home.

Raven crossed to Amabel and lifted a hand. “Dismount. Your ponies will have a better chance of pulling the carriage out of the ditch.”

“Oh, very well,” she said, and offered her hand. Raven helped her to descend. “Now,” he said to Tyne, “What’s your thinking?”

“My thinking is that this is a bloody mess,” Tyne said, throwing up his hands.

Cassie suspected that Tyne, a man of a light willowy build had never lifted anything heavier than a tennis racket or a cricket bat. He didn’t want to admit he needed Raven’s help, and she could see his distaste for the actual work of lifting the wheel out of the ditch.

“If my hat is ruined, Tyne, I blame you,” Amabel said. The clouds were closing fast now, the bright sunlight dimming. That seemed to stir Tyne to action. He marched round the rear of the carriage and peered into the ditch.

“It’s simple mechanics, Tyne,” said Raven. “You and I put our backs to the carriage and push, while the ponies pull.”

Tyne glared at him. Raven pulled his coat off and handed it to Cassie. She stood at the ponies’ heads, ready to give them the signal to walk.