Nory tried not to be offended on her friends’ behalf by the way he kept saying toffs and instead inquired: “The lost garden?”

“There’s an old walled garden—one of several, actually—just before you reach the dower house. It’s been a dumping ground for as long as I’ve lived here. The Dower House is central operations for the castle office staff. I’ve been saying to the marquis for years that he should build the staff their own place; out past the east wing where it would be out of sight but close enough to be practical. Then turn the old Dower House into a holiday rental and let me work my magic on the old garden.”

“It sounds like you’ve got it all worked out.”

“I have a lot of time to think when I’m working.”

“And what does the marquis think of your grand ideas?”

“He agrees with me. All he needs is a spare half a million to get things started.”

“Yikes! No wonder he wants this week to go well. Can you take me there? To the lost garden, I mean?”

“Come find me when you get back from your ride tomorrow afternoon, and if it’s not too dark, I’ll take you on my tea break.”

Nory couldn’t help doing an inner yip at the idea of being taken by Isaac on his tea break.

“The marquis obviously thinks a lot of you if he takes your advice on how to run his castle,” said Nory.

Isaac laughed. “I was born here, remember? I’m the only person who knows the castle the way he does. We’re both a part of this place in our own way, and we both want what’s best for it.”

“But isn’t he a toff?” Nory teased. “I thought you looked down your nose at toffs.”

“But the marquis is different.”

Nory opened her mouth to protest, but Isaac held his hands up.

“I know, I know, double standards. But Lord Abercrombie has never made me feel like I am less than him. Whereas some people . . .”

“Okay, point taken.”

“It wasn’t only your friends. I grew up being the punching bag for snotty-nosed Braddon-Hartmead kids who thought they were better than me. Those things take root.”

“I know.”

“My adult brain is over it. But there’s a part of me . . .”

“You were bullied, Isaac, it leaves scars. You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”

She remembered Thomas coming home with a bloodied nose on more than one occasion after fighting with the kids from the Pomp. Her brother was argumentative for sure, but she’d lay odds that it wasn’t always Thomas who started the fight.

“I spoke to Thomas,” said Nory. “About his poking his nose into our business.”

“You did? How did that go down?”

“Like a shit sandwich.”

Isaac spluttered a laugh.