‘Oh . . .’ He looked surprised but then with a nod he headed for the door she was pointing to as she went to the kitchen to get a tray of tea for the visitor.

After tapping gently, he inched the door open and there was Amber sitting in a chair at the side of the empty fire grate reading a newspaper. But this young woman was not the young maid he remembered. Her hair was loose and fell in shining waves about her shoulders and her face had a glow to it. Until she glanced up and saw him standing there, that was, and then the colour seemed to drain out of it as she dropped the newspaper and gasped.

‘Barn— M-Mr Greenwood . . . what are you doing here?’ She rose from her seat as she spoke and his eyes instantly fell to the mound of her stomach.

He had suspected that she hadn’t got rid of the child after visiting her mother and now his suspicions were confirmed, and strangely he felt elated. That was his child just as much as the one his wife was carrying. She, meanwhile, could only stare at him in horror. She had come to her uncle’s to seek sanctuary for two reasons: the first being she was terrified of her father and brothers ever discovering that she was to have a child. They were dependent on their home and living to Barnaby Greenwood and she dreaded to think what might have happened should they ever have found out that Barnaby Greenwood was the father. Should they ever have taken revenge on him they could all have found themselves out on the street with nowhere to live and no way to support themselves. The second reason had been that she felt in Scarborough there would be no chance of ever having to see Barnaby again, and yet here he was.

They stared at each other for a moment, until he said faintly, ‘The . . . baby, you decided to keep it then?’

Her chin rose as she stared at him defiantly. ‘Not exactly. I have every intention of giving it up as soon as it is born but I thought it at least deserved a chance to live! But don’t worry, I want nothing from you!’

Barnaby felt sweat break out on his brow and he took his handkerchief from his pocket and mopped it. ‘I see,’ he muttered when he was able to speak again. ‘So what do you intend to do with it?’

‘I hardly think that’s any o’ your business,’ she spat as her glorious eyes flashed. She had no fear of him – after all, she reasoned, he would hardly want her condition to become common knowledge.