Hugh’s head ached. These memories were no more conducive to happiness than the recollection of his behaviour with Philomena. Too distraught to remain in the house for a moment longer, he made his way to the stables and, in the familiar rhythm of so many evenings, soothed his spirits by settling the horses quietly in the boxes. Thunder’s uncomplicated pleasure in his master’s presence quietened Hugh’s agitation. He gave every horse additional rations, for this was, after all, a holiday, stroked Thunder’s nose and leaned awhile on the black stallion’s neck.

At last, away from the responsibilities of the Hall, the demands of the family, and the unsettling presence of Philomena, Hugh’s head cleared. He must control himself better. His conduct today had been unforgivable. His mother and sister would forgive him. They always did. Even poor John was used to his angry humours.

But what of Philomena? Hugh groaned. How could that child ever forgive him for forcing such unwanted attentions upon her? He should not have indulged his longings by spending time in the woman’s company. As they walked through the fields this morning, Philomena had enchanted him. He had overlooked every lie, needing to trust her. Why had he allowed this ridiculous attachment to an unknown female?

Hugh scrubbed his face with his hands. He would salve his conscience with a kind gesture. He made his way to the kitchen where Mrs. Bramble was busying herself in the larder. “Tonight’s meal was delicious. Thank you.”

“I am glad your lordship enjoyed it,” she said. “I hope the beef was to your lordship’s liking. I have asked Mr. Jones to undertake the hanging of the meat, rather than Addison.”

The two farmers carried on a long-term rivalry over competing butchery skills. Hugh hardly cared which one currently had the honour of slaughtering cattle from the herd for the dining table, but the welfare of every tenant was important.

“Has Mr. Addison been ill?” he asked.

“No, sir.” The cook’s lips shut tight.

“Come now, Mrs. Bramble,” Hugh said, intrigued. “You must tell me more.” He helped himself to a mouthful of one of her famous apple pies.

“Well, now, it’s just that Addison’s wife has a loose tongue, and I don’t like gossip.” She shook her head. “That’s all I can say.”

Hugh said no more, but later, curiosity piqued, he raised the matter with Martin. “I hear Addison has fallen out of favour with Mrs. Bramble, due, I gather, to a quarrel over some of Mrs. Addison’s gossip and nonsense.”