Margaret hurried to the morning room, only to stop short in the doorway. The sole occupant of the room was a tall man with his back to her, gazing out the window. Thinking the maid must have been mistaken, she was about to leave when he turned and smiled. “Good morning, Margaret.”

She stared blankly at the stranger who was crossing the room towards her. He was tall and well-built, plainly dressed, clean-shaven, and rather handsome. He looked oddly familiar. “Donald? Good heavens, is it really you? Oh my goodness, I barely recognised you without the beard.”

“Does it really make such a difference?” he asked, smiling.

“Yes, it really does.” He had a decidedly square jaw, which had been completely obscured before, and there was a dimple in his chin. He wore his hair shorter than she recalled, neatly and most unfashionably trimmed around his ears without any side-whiskers. “You are much improved,” Margaret said. Realising that this was a rather a back-handed compliment, she hastily added, “I mean transformed.”

Donald laughed, taking her hands in his. “As refreshingly candid as ever. No need to ask if you are well. I can see you are glowing with health. I thought I would surprise you, and congratulate you on your coming of age in person.”

His smile made her feel oddly breathless. This was the man who had been her regular correspondent for almost a year now. A man she called her dear friend, in whom she confided, who she thought she had come to know well, but whom she had not thought to actually meet in person. Seeing him in this new, attractive guise unsettled her.

“When I had no letter from you,” Margaret said, “I thought you had forgotten.”

“Never! Happy birthday, Margaret.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips.

Blushing wildly, she snatched her hand away. “It’s so strange,” she said, her thoughts jangling. “I have come to know you so well from your letters, but I feel almost shy seeing you in person. No, don’t take that amiss. I’m delighted to see you. Does Julia know you are here?”

“No. I wanted to surprise you.”

“You have certainly succeeded. Are you planning to stay?”

“That very much depends on you.”

What did he mean? She didn’t want to ask, for she had the feeling that it would change everything between them and she had no idea how she felt about that. First the letter from her father, and now this. “I was just about to go out riding,” Margaret said. “Will you join me?”

“An excellent idea. It’s a lovely day, and I am sure that Wingfield won’t mind my borrowing one of his mounts. The fresh air will clear my head. Then we can talk.”