“In any case,” he said, “as we introduce better ways to produce food it becomes cheaper for Mrs. Cole and the rest. Bread on the table, milk in the jug, and the chance to learn the ABCs: that’s what will change Betsy’s life. And there’s so much more to be done. In the Americas, the farmers use machinery for the tasks still managed in England with horses and man power.” Animated, Lord Thatcham’s face lit up. The harsh lines fell away and his eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. He looked hard at Philomena. “You are laughing at me.”

She shook her head. “No. I am excited to think the world can change for the better.”

Philomena would not allow herself to think ahead. She was content, for now, that Lord Thatcham should walk by her side. She must hide any more dangerous feelings. No one must ever discover how high her spirits soared or how fast her heart beat when the Master of the Hall spoke. There was no future for such emotions.

She could not admit that she had felt the touch of love. Lord Thatcham remained as distant as the sun from the earth. These tender feelings, so unexpected, could not last.

Chapter Twelve

All too soon, Philomena and John returned to the nursery while Hugh prepared to dress for the arrival of his mother and sister. The Dowager Lady Thatcham’s treasured barouche would bring them to the Hall at any moment.

Martin, determined not to allow his master to appear sloppily dressed on such on occasion, fussed endlessly about Hugh’s cravat. As today was Christmas day, Hugh curbed his habitual impatience and allowed the valet to fiddle interminably.

He was astonished at the calming effect of this morning’s short walk in the grounds. He had rarely so enjoyed a half hour’s conversation. No other woman debated such matters with Philomena’s unique style. Conversation with Beatrice had been limited, during the early years of their acquaintance, to flirtation at balls and compliments on her appearance. Later, as differences in character and opinion between the married couple grew exasperating, they avoided quarrels by barely conversing on any subject beyond the weather. Soon, the pair indulged in only the most trivial of polite dinner conversation.

This morning, Philomena had surprised Hugh with such unexpected thoughtfulness and strong opinions. He longed to know more about her. Something had forced such a young woman to undertake lengthy travel, alone and in disguise. She refused to tell the truth. Could Hugh trust that she had committed no crime? The thought surprised him. He had fallen out of the habit of trusting people. It was safer to think ill of others than risk betrayal.

Hugh waved Martin away and started down the stairs. Could Philomena be trusted, despite such a refusal to explain? Would he be a fool to have faith in an unknown waif?

The clatter of wheels on gravel signalled the approach of a carriage along the avenue. Well-shod hooves scattered stones, disturbing the newly raked gravel as the horses slowed to a walk, swirled round the drive and finally drew to a halt at the front entrance. As the carriage stopped, the servants of the Hall lined up dutifully by the door, ranged in order of importance, to greet the newcomers. Most remembered the Dowager Lady Thatcham from the days of her marriage to Lord Thatcham’s father. Familiar with her standards, they knew better than to appear late, grubby or slipshod at her arrival.