‘I was not planning to be here,’ she said doubtfully. ‘Is it that Estelle creature from the theatre in Woodbridge who is coming to perform?’

‘Miss Estella La Salle,’ Olivia said reprovingly. ‘It is quite a coup for me that she has agreed to sing for us, Deb. She is much sought after and very fashionable in the Prince of Wales’s circle.’

‘Only because the Hertfords have made such a fuss over her,’ Deb said. ‘They must be tone deaf! I love you dearly, Liv, but I am not sure that even for you I can sit through Miss La Salle’s caterwauling.’

‘You are the one who is tone deaf,’ Olivia responded. Her tone changed. ‘Oh please, Deb…’

Deb caught sight of Ross disappearing into the shrubbery. He was swiping at the tops of some of the rose bushes and looked to be in a very bad mood indeed.

‘Oh, very well,’ she said hastily. ‘I shall be here for as long as I can stand it!’

Olivia gave her another brief hug and Deb went down the shallow bank and on to the lawn in the same direction that Ross had gone. She was not intending to speak to him for she was not certain that she could be civil, but as she made her way down from the veranda, Ross came across the lawn and fell into step beside her. After giving him one angry, speaking look, Deb tolerated his company in silence. In this manner they walked across the lawn and reached the wooden gate that led out of the garden, across the ha-ha and into the surrounding park.

‘You may leave me here, Ross,’ Deb said tightly. ‘Thank you for your escort.’

Ross put his hand on the gate to prevent her exit. ‘Deb, I am sorry.’

‘I am not the one to whom you should be apologising,’ Deb said, raising a hand to shade her eyes from the sun so that she could glare at him all the better. ‘I do not know how Liv has endured your behaviour for so long, Ross. If I were in her shoes, I would have taken my gardening shears to you before now.’

‘I know,’ Ross said. There was a look of deep unhappiness in his blue eyes.

‘And you would deserve it!’ Deb added.

‘I know that too.’ A rueful grin touched Ross’s mouth, lightening the tired lines of his face for a moment. ‘Dear Deborah, it is so refreshing to have these sisterly chats with you! You go straight to the heart of the matter instead of pretending that there is no difficulty.’

‘Well, do not expect me to give you absolution,’ Deb said sharply. She drew him into the shade of a spreading oak that bordered the garden. ‘That is better. I cannot judge how repentant you are if I am squinting into the sun.’ She scanned his face. ‘Hmm. You do look a little bit cast down, I suppose. Well, you have only yourself to blame, Ross. I could shake both you and Olivia, you know. I am so fond of you both and I cannot comprehend why you cannot like each other.’

‘Oh, I like Olivia,’ Ross said wryly. ‘I like her a lot. That is half the trouble!’

‘I do not mean in that way,’ Deb said, frowning at him. ‘Men are all the same! You bring everything down to whether a woman is attractive to you or not and matters are never that simple.’

‘That is because men are simple creatures at heart,’ Ross said, looking out across Midwinter Marney land towards the sea. ‘All I desire is a home, a wife who cares for me and an heir…’

‘Try not to sound too maudlin,’ Deb said tartly. ‘You do not deserve those things unless you settle your differences with Olivia.’ Her face softened and she took his hand. She could never be angry with Ross for long, for she owed him a huge debt of gratitude and she knew what a very kind person he was at heart.

‘Dearest Ross,’ she said, ‘it grieves me to see you both so unhappy. You and Olivia have been so generous to me in the past. I do not know what I would have done without you after Neil died-’

‘Don’t,’ Ross said gruffly. His face set in hard lines. ‘You know that we would have done anything to help you, Deb.’ Anger darkened his eyes. ‘The only thing that I regret is that the fever got to Neil Stratton before I could call him to account.’

Deb sighed and freed herself. ‘Don’t, Ross. It is all over and done with now. But I do know that you are a kind and honourable man, and that very fact makes your estrangement from Olivia all the worse! If you were a boorish oaf then I could understand it, but you are not! At least, not most of the time.’

‘Thank you, Deb,’ Ross said ironically. ‘That vote of confidence encourages me.’

‘You deserve my censure,’ Deb said. ‘You were positively churlish to Olivia just now. Can you not be nice to her for a change? Talk to her! Take her flowers…’

‘She has all the flowers she needs in the garden,’ Ross said glumly. ‘I tried giving her a bouquet once and she made some remark about preferring to see flowers growing rather than dead in a vase.’

Deb sighed with exasperation. ‘That is unfortunate, but why give up as a result?’

‘Because I have no notion what it is that Olivia wants,’ Ross said, frowning heavily.

Deb sighed again. ‘Then why do you not ask her, Ross? Must I tell you how to do everything? Sit down and talk to her one day. Take her to the seaside. Buy her a present! I don’t know…’ Deb shook her head at him. ‘Olivia needs you, Ross. She may appear cool and composed on the surface, but underneath she is as vulnerable as anyone else.’ She gave him a little push. ‘Now go and talk to her!’

But when she reached the place where the path to Midwinter Mallow entered the beech wood, she looked back to see Ross striding away across the fields and could just make out the forlorn figure of Olivia still sitting on the veranda a quarter-mile distant in the opposite direction.

With an exasperated sigh, Deb called down a curse upon the heads of all men and vented her irritation by kicking up all the old, dry beech leaves from the ground beneath her feet. It made her feel better, but she knew that something had to be done to help Olivia. Unless radical steps were taken to reunite the Marneys, and soon, she could foresee years of misery for her beloved sister and brother-in-law as they lived their separate lives under the one roof.

In one way, however, she was obliged to acknowledge that Ross’s arrival on the veranda had been timely, for if he had not appeared, there was a chance that she might have blurted out to Olivia all about her decision to appoint a temporary fiancé and, even worse, about the newspaper advertisement. Deb frowned. For some reason, thinking of her fleeting fiancé made her think of Richard Kestrel again. She took a swing at an innocent spray of cow parsley beside the path. Lord Richard was exactly the sort of man who was the epitome of what she did not want in a counterfeit suitor. She needed someone who was moderate, agreeable and open to her guidance. Most certainly she did not need a man who was dangerous, forceful and devilishly attractive.

Deborah shook her head impatiently. Dwelling on Richard Kestrel’s attractions seemed a particularly pointless exercise at the moment and yet she seemed powerless to dismiss him from her mind. Nor was it helpful that the idle thought she had had of taking Richard as a lover had somehow taken root and would not be shifted. She knew it was a scandalous thought and one that she could not act on. It had better remain no more than a fantasy. And yet it still gave her no peace at all.

Chapter Three

‘D eb! Deb, wake up!’

The sound of her sister’s voice penetrated Deb’s pleasant doze. She stirred reluctantly and opened her eyes. The press of visitors in Olivia’s music room that evening had dissipated a little, for they had moved into the conservatory to take refreshments. Olivia had taken the rout chair next to hers and was leaning close, shaking her arm with a little impatient gesture. Deb yawned.

‘Has Miss La Salle finished?’

‘Ten minutes ago!’ her sister scolded. She shifted slightly and Deb saw over her shoulder that the infamous singer was now at the far end of the salon, partaking of a glass of wine and surrounded by admiring gentlemen. She smiled faintly.

‘Was it good?’

‘I cannot believe that you did not hear,’ Olivia said. ‘How is it possible to sleep through singing like that?’

Deb laughed. ‘I found it difficult, certainly, but by no means impossible.’

Olivia shook her head impatiently. ‘Well, never mind that now. I need you to find Ross for me, Deborah. He has not made an appearance for the whole evening. It is most embarrassing.’

‘Is he sulking,’ Deb enquired, ‘or is it merely that, like me, he does not care for music?’

A hint of colour came into Olivia’s cheeks. ‘I do not believe that he has forgiven me this morning’s comments and thinks to punish me. And, yes-he does hate singing. He says that Miss La Salle’s voice reminds him of wailing cats!’

Deb smothered a laugh. ‘Yet you wish to inflict this suffering on him?’

‘He must come,’ Olivia said, grabbing Deb’s sleeve between desperate fingers. ‘Everyone has remarked upon his absence. If I am obliged to listen to any more of Lady Benedict’s false condolences on having a philistine for a husband, I believe I shall run screaming from the room.’

Deb frowned. ‘Why do you not simply request Ross to come and join you?’

Olivia’s face puckered. ‘He will not pay any notice. You ask him, Deb!’

‘And if he does refuse, I shall give him a piece of my mind,’ Deb agreed. She stood up. ‘Where is he?’

‘I think he is in his study,’ Olivia said. Her face relaxed. ‘Thank you, Deb.’

Deb walked slowly out through the double doors and into the hall. She felt exasperated and more than a little upset. Olivia was putting a brave face on matters, but it seemed that her relationship with Ross had degenerated even in the short time since that morning’s disagreement. If matters continued like this, they would be completely estranged in a matter of days. Deb, whose hot temper could never bear to let a quarrel fester, fizzed with irritation.