‘This is a comfort,’ Maria remarked, jolting her out of her heated imaginings. ‘I was dreading the journey in a closed carriage, but this is nothing like that frightful post chaise. You will live in such luxury-there are so many advantages to this marriage.’

‘Indeed, yes,’ Hester agreed, resolutely suppressing the thought of some of them.


They arrived back from their expedition weary, satisfied and more than grateful for the attentions of the footman who had stoically marched behind them all day, gradually vanishing under a mountain of shopping.

Hester felt the day had gone well. The bank manager had been attentive; she had distracted Maria long enough to buy her a fine Paisley shawl for Christmas; a pretty dimity dress length and three yards of lace were wrapped up for Susan and she had even managed to find a copy of the book of household management that Jethro coveted.

But her idea for a present for Guy was inspired, she felt, touching the hard package in her reticule that contained a silhouette of her profile, expertly cut by Signor Olivetti.

As for stockings, gloves and slippers, she could not help but feel she had been somewhat extravagant; but, as Maria pointed out, it would not do to present an off appearance and embarrass Guy when she met his relatives.

Susan and Jethro reported a quiet day after their return from the forge. A bunch of four roses had been duly found, although it had taken some searching, Susan reported. ‘They were in one of the clothes presses in your dressing room. It’s taken me an age to get all that nasty crumbly dead leaf out of the linen.’

‘Clever,’ Hester acknowledged. ‘If we hadn’t been expecting them, it would have been a while before they were found and we would not have known when they were put there. I cannot but feel they are only going through the motions now. I hinted that I was unsettled enough to consider what to do after Christmas, so perhaps they will stop when they run out of roses.’

Despite her calm words, Hester feared she was being optimistic-surely the closer the waxing moon came to being full, the more dramatic the Nugents’ hauntings would become. And if they were badly in need of whatever treasure they had convinced themselves was concealed within these walls, then they would want to turn her vague expressions of uneasiness into a desperate desire to sell up and leave.

What would they do when they learned of her engagement to Guy? Hester gave a little shiver of excitement at the thought of it. Would she ever become used to the knowledge that he loved her?

‘Is Lord Buckland returned yet?’

Jethro shook his head. ‘Mr Parrott says he does not expect him until dinner time at the earliest.’

Hester went upstairs to put away her purchases, then drifted over to the chaise where she could curl up and watch the road for the return of Guy’s carriage. It still seemed a waking dream, one that would not be real again until he was here and holding her in his arms. Then she could talk to him, find out how her life would change as his wife, begin a lifetime of learning about the man she loved. The early winter darkness fell, still with no sign of him, and at last Hester went downstairs.

Ben Aston was in the kitchen, dumping an armload of logs into the basket beside the range. He knuckled his forehead as Hester came in and remarked that it was looking like being a powerfully cold frost that night before nodding abruptly to Susan and taking himself off through the back door.

‘A man of few words,’ Hester observed.

‘He’s chatty enough.’ Susan tossed a log on to the fire. Her cheeks were red and Hester wondered what she had been cooking to keep her so close to the heat. ‘Is there any sign of his lordship yet?’

‘No, not yet. Susan, when I am married, I do hope you will stay on as my lady’s maid.’

‘Oh!’ Now what was the matter with her? The girl was looking positively flustered. ‘That’s very kind of you, Miss Hester, but won’t his lordship expect you to have a smart London dresser’?’

‘Then we will have to disagree upon it, because the last thing I want is a haughty dresser looking down her nose at me-I hear they are usually quite oppressively genteel.’

‘What about Miss Prudhome?’ Susan began busying herself with the pans of vegetables.

‘I hope with Lord Buckland’s connections I can find her a good position as a companion. As for Jethro, we will have to see what his lordship can suggest.’

A knock on the front door sent her hurrying down the hall. As she had hoped, it was Guy, his breath steaming in the frosty air, his lips cold as he swept her into a kiss.

‘Guy! For shame, kissing me on the doorstep-come in before half the village sees you.’ But she was laughing as she said it, her heart singing as she pulled him across the threshold and closed the door behind him.

‘Mmm.’ He buried his face in her hair, holding her tight. ‘So warm, so…edible.’ His teeth were grazing wickedly down her throat, making her want to sigh and giggle all at once. ‘Have you missed me?’

‘So much.’ Reluctantly she moved out of his embrace, ridiculously pleased when he simply turned her into the shelter of his arm and held her against him as they entered the drawing room. ‘Guy, I really do have to talk to you.’ It was no use simply assuming he had found out all about John-how could he know everything? It had to be discussed, for she doubted he realised the extent of the gossip about her.

‘Are you going to tell me all over again that you cannot marry me?’ His eyes were tender on her face and Hester found herself lost for words. It did not seem possible that he felt like this about her. ‘I have to tell you, Miss Lattimer, that to kiss a man as you have just kissed me and then refuse to marry him is quite shockingly forward.’

‘No, but, Guy-’ She broke off at a tap on the door and Maria peeped around it, her colour high with the embarrassment of interrupting what Hester suspected she would characterise as a tender interlude.

‘Yes, Maria? As you see, Lord Buckland has returned safely from his journey. I should have asked you at once, my lord, did you find Lady Broome well?’

‘Very well, thank you. Thoroughly revitalised by a few days of gossip and more than ready to organise my Christmas social life. She is, naturally, most eager to meet you, my love.’

Hester swallowed. ‘You told her?’

‘That I had met the love of my life and that she had accepted me? Yes. Georgy expressed herself gratified that I was at last settling down and amazed that I had found a lady foolish enough to take me on.’

Hester snorted, earning a cluck of censure from Miss Prudhome. ‘I imagine there are any number of ladies willing to do that, my lord. Should I call tomorrow?’

‘No, if I may, I will bring Georgy to call upon you. Shall we say half past ten?’

‘My lord.’ Maria, who had been fidgeting just inside the door, interrupted apologetically. ‘Your footman has just arrived and says that Mr Parrott sends his apologies, but believes that your lordship’s return to the Old Manor would be highly advisable.’

‘Oh, lord! That means that Georgy has already started trying to organise Parrott-and that bids fair to be a fight to the death.’ He bent and kissed Hester rapidly on the cheek. ‘Until tomorrow morning, my love. Sleep well.’


Ten-thirty the next day seemed to take forever to arrive, but eventually it came, finding Hester once again waiting in the drawing room with Maria, as they had on Guy’s first visit to the Moon House. Only now. Hester was gratified to know, the room was furnished in some style, a fire blazed brightly in the grate and, thanks to Ben Aston’s efforts, she could tug the bell pull with absolute confidence to summon refreshments.

Hester picked up her embroidery frame with its unfinished pew kneeler and tried to set a stitch or two. What are you worrying about? she chided herself. Lady Broome is Guy’s sister; she will be like him. You are certain to like her and she will become a sister and a friend.

‘They are coming up the front path,’ Maria whispered, as though she could be heard outside. ‘Lady Broome has a prodigiously fine bonnet.’

The knocker could be heard, then a murmur of voices in the hall. Jethro, in his striped waistcoat, would be doing his very best impersonation of Parrott. Hester felt her lips relax from the stiff smile of welcome she had assumed; everything would be all right.

‘Lady Broome, Miss Lattimer. Lord Buckland.’

Hester got to her feet and took a step forward, to greet the woman who would be her sister-in-law. Then she froze. Walking towards her was the woman from the slashed portrait-modern bonnet and furs did nothing to hide the perfect resemblance. Hester found the words of welcome drying up in her throat and felt the blood ebbing out of her cheeks before she collected herself. Of course, she had seen the resemblance to Guy-in a woman the likeness would be even more pronounced. But she could see from Guy’s expression that her shocked reaction must be noticeable and he stepped forward to retrieve the situation, directing a reassuring smile towards Hester.

‘Georgiana, allow me to introduce Miss Lattimer. Hester, this is my sister, Lady Broome.’

Lady Broome was staring at her, stony faced, her wide blue eyes, so like Guy’s, fixed on Hester’s face. ‘Miss Lattimer? Late of Mount Street and the household of Colonel Sir John Norton?’

The floor seemed to shake under Hester’s feet and behind her she heard Maria’s gasp. She could not move her eyes from the accusing blue ones in front of her, could not look at Guy. But he said he knew-why did he not then speak?

The silence seemed to stretch on for minutes until Hester found her voice. ‘Yes, I did reside in Sir John’s house in Mount Street.’