The coachman assured her that he would take care and the two ladies stepped into the carriage.

“It's just such a pity Joshua could not be here,” said Hetty as the carriage pulled away. “Charles wrote to him as soon as Jebadiah died, but he has had no reply.”

Joshua Kelling was Jebadiah's godson. Rebecca had never met him, for they lived in different parts of the country and Joshua had spent a lot of time abroad, but her grandfather had spoken highly of him. She had always imagined him as bookish and bespectacled man because, according to her grandfather he had a good business head; and she had also imagined him as something of a dandy, because her grandfather had chortled over Joshua's many conquests. “Fascinated by him, the women are!” Jebadiah had crowed. “And he by them!”

Rebecca smiled at the picture she had created, of a bright, clever man, who was polished in his address, adept at making himself agreeable, and dressed in the latest style. She would very much like to meet him! But she would have to wait, because at the moment he was abroad on business.

She was brought out of her thoughts by the carriage rolling to a halt.

“Are we there already?” asked Rebecca.

She was surprised at the shortness of the journey.

“Yes,” said Hetty, climbing out of the carriage. “We're here.”

Rebecca looked up at the lawyer's office building. It was decent and respectable; prosperous, even. Mr Wesley was evidently good at his job.

The two ladies were admitted to the building by an unctuous clerk.

“If you would care to follow me?” he said, with a low bow.

What an oily youth, thought Rebecca with a frown, caught by the unsettling mixture of servility and arrogance in the clerk's manner. But then she had time to think nothing further, for she and Hetty were being shown into the lawyer's office. And there was her uncle Charles!

Charles Marsden was a distinguished-looking gentleman. A light smattering of grey marked his hair at the temples, giving him a distinguished look. His figure was, perhaps, running a little to fat, but he still cut a fine figure in his tailcoat and breeches.

“I'm so pleased you've arrived,” he said. “Hetty was worried when you didn't get here last night, but I knew you would find the journey difficult in all this snow.”

“It was,” Rebecca acknowledged. “I will tell you all about it later.”

He nodded. Now was not the time for conversation. Now was the time for attending to business.

Rebecca turned her attention to the lawyer. He was a small man with sparse hair and thin hands. He was dressed conservatively in a dark coat and knee breeches. On the end of his nose he wore a pair of pince-nez.

“Now we are all gathered together, please, take a seat,” he said.

He spoke in a dry, desiccated voice that matched his appearance perfectly.

Rebecca divested herself of her bonnet and cloak, then settled herself on a Hepplewhite chair. Hetty and Charles, similarly shedding their outdoor clothes, seated themselves on an ugly but comfortable sofa.

“Mr Kelling will be joining us?” asked Mr Wesley.

“Unfortunately not,” said Charles. “He is at present abroad. I wrote to him, telling him of Jebadiah's death, but the letter must not have reached him. I have received no reply.”

“My own efforts to contact him have met with a similar lack of success. Well, as he cannot be with us, I suggest we get down to business.”

“Indeed,” said Charles.

“Good. Then if you are all quite ready, I will begin.”

Rebecca settled herself more comfortably then turned with interest to the lawyer.

Mr Wesley cleared his throat then picked up an important-looking document that was placed in front of him. He shuffled it between his hands. In precise, dry tones he began to read.

“"This is the last will and testament of Jebadiah Marsden",” he said. His voice took on a declaiming quality. “"To my only living son, Charles Marsden, I leave — "”

At that moment there was a commotion from out in the hall, and the sound of the unctuous clerk saying, “You can't go in,” before the door was flung open, and there, on the threshold, was... the leonine gentleman!

He was looking even more impressive than Rebecca remembered him. His mane of dark blonde hair was gleaming in a shaft of sunlight. His jaw line, devoid of the stubble that had adorned it the previous evening, was revealed in all its strength. The planes of his cheekbones, now that his hair had been brushed back from his face, were even sharper than she had remembered them, and his lips were full and firm. His clothes were immaculate. Beneath his many-caped greatcoat Rebecca glimpsed a blue tailcoat and cream breeches, pulled tight across his powerful thighs, and beneath them a pair of highly polished black boots.

But what is he doing here? thought Rebecca.

Her question was quickly answered. Charles, starting up, said warmly, “Joshua!”

Joshua? thought Rebecca in astonishment. This was Joshua?

No. It couldn't be.

He was the complete opposite of the picture she had built up in her mind. Where was the dandy she had imagined? True, his clothes were in the height of fashion, but he wore them with an air of wildness that spoke of plains and prairies rather than drawing-rooms. And as for being able to make himself agreeable..!

“Joshua!” cried Hetty with pleasure. “We had given up all hope! How wonderful to see you again.”

And now a new problem pushed its way into Rebecca's mind. What would he say when he turned his head and saw her? She found herself dreading the moment. If he mentioned the incident, she dreaded to think of Hetty's horrified response!

“And now you must meet Jebadiah's grand-daughter,” said Charles jovially. “Miss Fossington, this is Mr Kelling.”

Joshua turned towards her, and a humorous light brightened his copper-coloured eyes.

“Oh, Charles, for heaven's sake!” Hetty threw up her hands in despair. “There will be no standing on ceremony between Jebadiah's loved ones.” She took the introductions into her own hands. “Joshua, this is Rebecca, and Rebecca, this is Joshua.”

Joshua took her hand, and to her annoyance Rebecca felt herself flush. But she need not have worried. Although the gleam did not leave his eye, he behaved in exemplary fashion, bowing politely over her hand. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss it... and gave a sigh of relief when he did not, for she had the uneasy feeling that the feel of his lips on the back of her hand would have been strangely too much to bear.

As he relinquished her hand she felt her pulse begin to steady and was able to reply with a semblance of calm. “Joshua.” She inclined her head.

Fortunately, neither Hetty nor Charles had noticed the strained nature of their greeting, but she still could not be comfortable as she again took her seat because she had no idea whether Joshua would reveal they had met, or whether he would reveal the details of their meeting.

Still, the situation must be borne. They were gathered together for the reading of Jebadiah's will, and she must give Mr Wesley her attention.

“I will begin again,” said Mr Wesley, once Joshua had shrugged himself out of his greatcoat, and they had all settled again. He turned to Joshua. “I had just begin to read Jebadiah Marsden's will,” he explained.

Joshua nodded. “Charles wrote and told me of Jebadiah's death.” His face became more serious, and Rebecca realized that for all his untamed appearance he was capable of strong attachments, for it was obvious he had loved her grandfather deeply. “I would have been here sooner but the letter was delayed and my own journey home was hampered by a bad crossing and then all this snow.”

“Quite.” Mr Wesley picked up the will once more. “"This is the last will and testament of Jebadiah Marsden",” he began again. “"To my only living son, Charles Marsden, I leave the bulk of my estate."”

Charles, who had been perched on the edge of the sofa, let out a sigh of relief, and Hetty smiled happily.

Rebecca, too, was pleased. She was beginning to feel a little more comfortable. Joshua had settled himself at the other side of the room, and she was able to think clearly again.

Mr Wesley went on to give details of Charles' inheritance: a number of London properties, a variety of stocks and bonds, as well as assorted bank balances and a collection of lesser items. Then he continued. “There are also a number of smaller legacies, as I expect you anticipated.” He cleared his throat again and went on.

“"To Miss Louisa Stanhope, I leave the sum of five thousand pounds."” Louisa was Rebecca's middle-aged cousin, and the two of them lived together in Cheshire, so that Rebecca was delighted to know that Louisa had been remembered. Five thousand pounds was a generous sum. It would enable Cousin Louisa to indulge in a number of the luxuries she presently deprived herself of. Perhaps she could even visit Bath or Harrogate to take the waters, in an attempt to cure the rheumatism which had prevented her from travelling to London with Rebecca.

Rebecca turned her attention back to Mr Wesley. “"To my godson, Joshua Kelling",” he went on, “"I leave my signet ring —"”

Rebecca nodded thoughtfully. It seemed fitting, as well as practical, that Joshua should inherit her grandfather's ring, which was embossed with the letter "J".

“" — together with a half share in Marsden mill".”

Rebecca glanced at Joshua. As she took in the ruthless line of his jaw she shivered. This was an unforeseen complication: not that Joshua was to inherit half of the mill, as her grandfather had always told her that that would happen, but that Joshua was a strong and powerful man, instead of the malleable dandy she had hoped he would be.