Oddly, it was Richard Kestrel whose company she could best tolerate. He took her driving several times a week, and though people gossiped, Rachel did not care. She found she did not care for much these days. Often she and Richard would not even talk, but it did not matter. It mattered slightly more that the situation caused Deb Stratton to be uneasy in her company, but Rachel was too weary to try to explain to Deb that she had no designs on Richard and never would.

One day, when they had driven down to the sea and were sitting on an outcrop overlooking Kestrel Beach, Richard did speak. ‘I want to talk to you about Cory Newlyn,’ he said.

Rachel turned her face away and looked out to sea. The weather was fresher these days with the approach of autumn and the wind was cold on her face.

‘Please do not,’ she said.

Richard sighed. ‘Very well then. If I cannot talk about Cory, then I will tell you about myself, Rachel. About the one chance that I had, and the way I threw it away.’

Rachel turned her head sharply and looked at him. ‘Richard,’ she said, ‘you are not being in the least subtle.’

Richard shrugged. His handsome face was moody and dark. ‘I do not believe that subtlety can reach you, Rachel, and I am a great believer in brute force where subtlety has failed.’ He took a deep breath. ‘No one will have said this to you, so I am going to take it on myself.’ He squared his shoulders. ‘You are being the greatest fool in Christendom to spurn true love where it is offered. Not only are you making yourself unhappy, but you have almost destroyed a good man, and that I find very hard to forgive. It is only because I like you so much that I am still speaking to you at all.’ He stood up. ‘I am no gentleman to say this to you, but someone had to have the courage.’

Rachel stared at him. A tiny corner of her heart was starting to unfreeze. She could feel the warmth spreading. ‘You are right,’ she said slowly. ‘It was most uncivil of you.’

Richard started to smile. ‘Well?’ he said.

Rachel got up and shook the sand out her skirts. She did not look at him. She felt suddenly nervous, as though she was on the edge of a momentous decision. Richard’s words had echoed what she had been trying to say to herself for weeks; words she had been too afraid to hear. Who could tell what happiness she might find with Cory if only she was prepared to compromise on those wishes to which she had obstinately clung for years? She had been so blind, so determined that a settled home was the only thing that she wanted, so afraid to take a risk. Yet she had been more unhappy without Cory than she could ever imagine being with him by her side, even if she had to travel for the whole of the rest of her life. She loved him too much to lose him forever.

‘Do you ever hear news of Cory?’ she asked, without looking at him.

‘I keep in correspondence with him,’ Richard said drily.

Rachel glanced sideways at him. ‘And do you know if he might be returning to Midwinter?’

Richard gave her a very straight look. ‘It…could be arranged,’ he said.

Rachel felt a huge smile starting and bit her lip to repress it. ‘Then if it might be arranged I…I suppose it would be good to see him again.’ Her smile faded. ‘Although he may not wish to see me, of course.’

‘That,’ Richard said, ‘is up to you.’

Rachel took his arm as they started to walk down the stony path back to the curricle. The groom was walking the horses and looking slightly bored.

‘What was it that you were going to tell me about yourself?’ she asked suddenly.

Richard glanced down at her and then shook his head. ‘No matter,’ he said. ‘That must wait for another occasion, I think. Let us resolve your romantic difficulties first before we even attempt a start on mine.’

The hope and excitement and expectation bubbled up in Rachel again. Suddenly she flung her arms about Richard and hugged him hard.

‘I do not care what they say about you, Richard Kestrel,’ she said breathlessly, ‘I think you are a very kind man!’

‘Good lord,’ Richard said, ‘keep that to yourself, if you please, Rachel. If that is not death to a rake’s reputation then I do not know what is,’ and he hugged her back in full view of the astonished groom.

It was a week later and Rachel had scarcely finished breakfast when Mrs Goodfellow informed her that her parents would like to speak with her in the drawing room. Curious but unsuspecting, Rachel put down her napkin and wandered in. Both her parents were sitting on the sofa in the window. Her mother was holding Sir Arthur’s hand extremely tightly. Rachel could see that her knuckles were white and that Sir Arthur was wincing, though he made no protest. Indeed, he had the slightly dazed look of a man who had made a miraculous discovery. And Lady Odell’s eyes were glowing with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Rachel’s heart leapt.

‘We have something to tell you, Rachel,’ Lady Odell said. ‘Something very exciting.’

‘You have found it!’ Rachel exclaimed. ‘Oh, Mama, you have found the Midwinter Treasure!’

Lady Odell frowned. For a moment she looked as though she had no idea what Rachel was talking about, then her brow cleared. ‘The Treasure? Oh, no, indeed not, my love.’

Now it was Rachel’s turn to look puzzled. She sat down slowly. ‘No? But I thought…You seemed so excited…’

‘Oh, I am!’ Lady Odell smiled again. There was something softer about her face, a luminous quality in her eyes that Rachel had never seen before. ‘You see, darling-’ she shot a quick look at Sir Arthur’s face ‘-I…we…we are having a baby.’

‘Your mother’s enceinte,’ Sir Arthur said, his gruffness belied by the sweet smile he gave his wife. ‘Pregnant, in an interesting condition…’

‘Thank you, Papa,’ Rachel said, ‘I understand.’ She put a hand to her head, feeling a little dazed herself. ‘This is a great surprise, Mama. I am pleased for you, of course, but…I assume that it was not what you intended.’

Lady Odell had been watching her daughter’s face anxiously, but now her own brow cleared. ‘Good gracious, I would not wish you to think that it was an accident, Rachel! I have been wanting another child these twenty-three years past, ever since you were born. It was the greatest grief of my life that you were destined to be an only child, for your father and I wanted a large family, but as the years passed and no playmate arrived for you, we began to think that it was not to be. So we took you everywhere with us so that you were not too lonely, and we were not lonely too…’ Lady Odell sniffed. ‘We tried to make up for your lack of siblings by involving you in everything that we did, but…’ she sighed ‘…you never did care for antiquities, did you? Still, I hope that you have been happy travelling with us and seeing the world.’

Rachel opened her mouth and closed it again. This was not the moment to shatter her mother’s illusions about her happy childhood and love of travelling. Indeed, it seemed that such confidences would never be exchanged now, for Rachel saw very clearly that she had made some wrong assumptions. Sir Arthur and Lady Odell had kept her with them at all times because they were desperate for a family and she was all they had. And also because they were afraid that she would be lonely, the only child with no siblings. They had always wanted children. They had always wanted her.

Rachel swallowed the huge lump in her throat. ‘I am so happy for you, Mama! Papa-’ she turned to Sir Arthur, who was beaming benignly ‘-oh, Papa, this is wonderful news!’

Lady Odell stood up to embrace her and Rachel rushed around the table so that her mother should not be obliged to come to her.

‘Pray sit down and put your feet up on the stool, Mama. You must take matters very carefully now! No more excavating for the time being, and no shifting heavy objects…’

Lady Odell hugged her tearfully. ‘We are giving up the excavating and the travelling, Rachel. We feel that it is time to retire. With a new family, you know, there will be much else to do. We thought that we should like to stay at Midwinter Royal, at least for a while, and then if your father decides that he needs to do some more work he will have the burial ground on hand.’

‘Young man’s game,’ Sir Arthur grunted. ‘I leave all that to Cory.’

Rachel looked at him sharply. ‘Is Cory returning to Midwinter Royal, Papa?’

Sir Arthur looked shifty. ‘Coming to consult with me on my paper for the Antiquarian Review,’ he said. ‘Did I not tell you?’

Rachel felt a mixture of exasperation and sheer nervousness. ‘No, Papa. No, you did not tell me. You never remember to tell me anything!’

Sir Arthur looked a little taken aback at her vehemence. He checked the clock. ‘Should be here soon,’ he offered. ‘Thought I should let you know. I need some coffee first though. All this emotion, you know. You’ll find me in the library if you want me.’

The door closed behind him. Rachel stared wildly at Lady Odell.

‘Cory is coming here…now? This morning?’

‘Yes, my love,’ Lady Odell said. She sat back and closed her eyes wearily. ‘I believe he is to call at Kestrel Court first. I feel a little tired. I think I will take a rest.’

Rachel was already halfway to the door, but she paused with her hand on the knob and looked back at her mother sitting peaceably by the fireside.

‘Mama,’ she said suddenly, ‘I wondered about names. If it is a girl…’

‘We shall call her Aethelflaed,’ Lady Odell said contentedly, without opening her eyes. ‘We thought it appropriate to honour the Anglo-Saxons.’

‘Hmm,’ Rachel said. Perhaps, like her, Aethelflaed would have a sensible second name that she could use.

‘And if it is a boy?’ she said. ‘Tostig, perhaps?’

‘That’s good!’ Lady Odell said, opening her eyes and looking at her daughter thoughtfully. ‘Very good, Rachel. But we had already decided upon Edgar. What do you think?’