The two women sat in silence for a while, then Georgiana said, ‘I am more sorry than I can say about blurting out the scandal of your position with Colonel Norton. Miss Prudhome came to see me and told me the truth.’

‘What?’ Hester was startled out of her exhaustion. ‘How dare she?’

‘She dared because she loves you,’ Lady Broome replied. ‘And she made me promise not to tell Guy. She said that my opinion did not matter provided I did not spread the rumour, but that if he did not come to disbelieve it of his own accord there was no hope for the two of you.’

That was true. How brave of Maria to dare her wrath and the scorn of the haughty Lady Broome. Who was apparently not so haughty after all. ‘Does he believe it?’

‘I think perhaps he must after all,’ Georgiana replied sadly. ‘Otherwise, why does he not come and speak to you about it?’

There was a scratch on the door and Jethro came in with a folded note on a salver. Hester recognised the bold, black handwriting and reached out her hand, but he shook his head. ‘For Lady Broome, Miss Hester.’

Politely Hester stood up and moved away, leaving Georgiana to read the message. ‘Have they all gone, Jethro? What were they saying?’ It was possible to carry on, even through a haze of shock and exhaustion, even if your heart was quite broken.

‘Yes, Miss Hester. They were all very shocked, of course, but I don’t believe, once they started thinking about it, that they were very surprised.’

There was an exclamation from Lady Broome who was holding two sheets of notepaper covered in Guy’s sprawling hand and looking at Hester with an expression she could not read. ‘He has gone to London.’ She looked down at the letter again and murmured, ‘Will there be enough time?’

‘For you to carry out the Christmas preparations in his absence? I am sure you can leave it all to Parrott,’ Hester assured her. ‘Parrott can manage anything.’ Did she imagine it, or did Lady Broome mutter, But not this?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The Moon House was easy enough to set to rights after the party, but local society was in a turmoil that apparently would not be calmed without endless repetition, and exaggeration, of the facts.

Hester, wanting nothing more than to sit and mourn Guy’s loss, found herself receiving one visitor after another, each intent on telling her how brave she had been and how they had never trusted the Nugents. Even the villagers had their own way of finding out what was going on and Ben Aston seemed to have no other work than to hang around chopping wood and bringing in kindling for Susan.

‘Christmas Eve tomorrow.’ Hester said brightly, far more brightly than she felt. She was no worse off than she had been before Guy Westrope had entered her life, she told herself robustly, o why was she feeling so very sorry for herself now when she was secure in her home and all danger was past? ‘We must wrap our presents and find a Yule log and do as much cooking as we can so that Christmas Day is a holiday.’

‘I did promise Lady Broome that I would spend some time with her tomorrow, if that is all right, Hester dear?’ Maria looked anxious and faintly agitated, and Hester had not the heart to point out there was plenty to keep her occupied at home. If this new friendship helped bring Maria out of her shell, so much the better. She had already spent several hours at the Old Manor. Hester had said nothing about her breach of confidence: much good had come from it and she had shown more perception than Hester had credited her with in not telling Guy the truth.

Oh, why was she thinking about him again? The entire village seemed empty without him, she felt lonely and abandoned, yet she knew where he was-in London, doubtless on important business-and his whereabouts should be of no concern to her now in any case.

Put it off as she might, bedtime came round with a horrible inevitability and Hester took herself upstairs reluctantly, knowing she was facing another night when sleep would prove elusive. Susan tucked her up, muttering something about some laundry she must set to soak overnight and Hester was left alone in the flickering light of the fire to watch the waning moon through her uncurtained window. I really must do something about the shutters and some curtains, she thought. That at least was a practical thing to occupy her mind as she lay awake in the dark. Repair the shutters, of course, but what about the curtains? Silk again, or would dimity be pretty?

The clock struck twelve. Had Susan gone to bed yet? She hadn’t heard her. Then the tread at the top of the stair creaked and she could hear footsteps along the landing. At last. Susan must be tired, she had worked so hard on the party, and then today, clearing up.

Her bedchamber door opened. Bless the girl, she was checking on her.

But the shadow that fell across the floor was male and the footsteps, now they were in the room, were of booted feet. Hester scooted upright in bed with a gasp as Guy walked in and shut the door behind him. He touched the candle he was holding to the branch on the mantel shelf and smiled at her.

‘God, it is cold out there. The air seems to be freezing into ice crystals.’ And, indeed, she could see the frost melting on his greatcoat. He shrugged it off, tossed it over a chair and sat down, starting to tug off one boot.

‘What do you think you are doing? Where have you come from?’ This was some sort of hallucination, she was so overwrought that she had made herself ill.

‘Taking off my boots.’ His left boot came off, and he tossed it aside and began to tug at the right. ‘And I’ve been in London, I told you. At least, I told Georgy.’

‘But why? No, I do not mean, why did you go,’ she protested as he pulled a thick, folded document tied in red tape from his pocket and tossed it on to the table. ‘I mean, what are you doing here?’

‘Thawing out.’ He stood up with a grunt and rubbed his hands into the small of his back. ‘That is a long drive in these conditions.’

‘You can thaw out at home,’ Hester protested.

‘And get cold again coming back?’ His coat joined the greatcoat.

Hester stared at the shirt-sleeved figure. ‘How did you get in?’ This was like one of those infuriating parlour games where one had only a limited number of questions to ascertain whether the person who was It was Wellington, the vicar or the Empress Josephine.

‘Through the secret door.’ Guy was tugging his neckcloth loose now.

‘Well, you must go back immediately.’ Hester tried to assume a calm manner, keeping her voice level as though she was dealing with an unpredictable lunatic. ‘And go quietly or you will wake Maria and Susan.’

‘Maria is snoring her head off at the far end of the landing and Susan was leaving by the secret door in the cupboard as I was coming in.’

‘What?’

‘To meet Ben Aston. Surely you knew about that?’

Hester felt her mouth drop open and shut it with a snap. ‘No, I did not! You mean they are courting?’

‘Certainly they are. I enquired about his intentions last week-I thought it best to make sure he hasn’t a wife somewhere-and they seem perfectly honourable.’ Guy strolled across and leaned on the bed post.

‘You asked him? Why did you not tell me?’

‘I assumed you would want to hear about it from Susan; meanwhile, it seemed wise to let him know someone had her interests at heart.’ He was watching her from under heavy lidded eyes, bruised by tiredness, but Hester was not fooled into thinking Guy Westrope was the slightest hit sleepy.

‘Thank you.’ This situation was so unreal. Hester fell back on common civility to guide her. ‘And thank you for dealing so effectively with the Nugents.’

‘Ah, yes, my delinquent cousins. Georgy told you all about that, I presume.’

Hester nodded. ‘She was very kind. What have you discovered about them?’ She really wanted to know, but not at midnight with a man in her bedchamber.

‘That they are very deeply in debt and there seems to be some suggestion of fraud involving Sarah’s erstwhile fiancé.’

‘What will happen to them?’ Hester pulled the counterpane up around her shoulders.

‘I will let them sweat a little and then buy the house on the condition they leave the country. Provided you drop charges and Jethro and the doctor do not want to pursue their claims, they will be free to leave.’

‘Oh, yes, anything to be rid of them.’ Hester tried for a firm note. ‘Thank you for letting me know, I hope you are warm enough to go home now.’

‘Not nearly warm enough.’ His voice was a husky drawl and Hester gasped.

‘You have come over here thinking that, because I was one man’s mistress, I will take you into my bed? Get out this minute!’ She pointed furiously at the door. ‘Go on.’

‘Hester, I came to apologise for making you think I was judging you, condemning you.’ Guy sat down on the end of the bed and she withdrew her feet sharply. He was far too close, far too male and, now his waistcoat joined his coat on the chair, wearing far too little. ‘I was very clumsy and I did not know how to make things right between us.’

‘You mean you do not believe I was John’s mistress?’ Had Maria or Lady Broome said something after all, or was this the declaration of trust she had been praying for?

‘I mean that I do not know. If you were, then either you were deeply in love with the man and for some reason could not marry him-and if that were the case, it would be rampant hypocrisy on my part to condemn you, knowing what I do about my own grandmother-or you were forced into that position against your will, in which case, what blame is there in that?’

Guy was watching her face, his own serious as he spoke. Hester could feel the colour ebb and flow under her skin as her emotions struggled to keep pace with what he was saying.