Before Tom had turned the corner, Lou was out of the morning room. She flew out of the front door. Without waiting to see whether George was still there, she ran around the side of the house, past the walled gardens and into the stable yard. She slipped, losing her footing, but didn’t stop. Why she was racing to Tom, she had no idea. All she knew was that she had to.

17

In the yard, Lou met Elliot on his way out of the stables. He raised his cap and closed the door behind her. She found Tom in Ambrose’s stall. He was running his hands slowly and methodically over the horse’s flank and back, whispering gently as he presumably checked for injuries. For a few moments, she watched in silence, not wanting to disturb Tom’s peace. But it would be worse if he looked up to find her staring at him. ‘Tom,’ she said quietly.

He stopped stroking Ambrose. ‘Lou, please go back to the house,’ he said, without turning to look at her.

‘I saw you,’ she said. ‘With George. Outside. I saw what he did to Ambrose.’

Tom braced himself against the side of the horse. ‘What did you hear?’

‘Nothing.’ She fibbed.

Tom’s shoulders relaxed, but only slightly. ‘Please go back to the house, Louisa. I’m in no mood for conversation.’

As much as his use of her full name stung, she wouldn’t back down. ‘I won’t leave you like this.’

‘What exactly do you want from me?’

‘To see that you’re all right. You’re clearly upset –’

‘Upset?’ His arms snapped to his sides. His hands balled into fists. ‘How dare Caxton stand on Mandeville land and abuse me? We’re at his mercy, and by God, doesn’t he know it. I can do nothing to stop him. Nothing. I’m neutered. A bloody gelding.’

Lou chose her next words carefully. ‘Why does your cousin dislike you so?’

Tom laughed harshly. Finally, he turned to face her. ‘Hate, Louisa, my cousin hates me. Don’t mince your words.’

‘All right, hates, then. Why does he hate you?’

Tom seemed on the verge of saying something but stopped. ‘It’s not important.’ He walked away, heading for the storeroom, his shoes crunching on the straw underfoot.

‘George Caxton is not a nice person, is he?’ Lou called after him. ‘Definitely not the kind of man you would want your sister to marry?’

Tom came to an abrupt halt and spun around. ‘For Christ’s sake, Lou. Why do you insist on raising that subject? I’d kill before I let Caxton within an inch of my sister.’

‘I’m sorry, Tom. I didn’t mean … It’s just that Charlotte is a wonderful, intelligent young woman who deserves more than a marriage to a –’

‘Good god! Is marriage all that you women think about? You disappoint me, Lou, it seems that I misjudged you. You are just like the rest of your sex, after all.’

You disappoint me. The words rang in her ears. At the same time, her hackles rose. This was turning into an argument. Tom was backing her into a corner, her least favourite place. ‘That’s not all I think about. Why are you determined to misunderstand me?’