She had no idea how long she had been inside the church, she must hasten home, before Matthias became worried and sent someone looking for her. Drying her tears of repentance, making sure her hat was pulled down to conceal her face, she edged out of the church door, through the tiny slate-roofed porch and out of the lychgate. Straight into the path of the Reverend Lanyon and Mrs Lanyon, an unknown gentleman and Sir Oliver.

Crying out, she crumpled against the wrought-iron gate.

‘Rosie!’ Oliver rushed to catch her. ‘What is it? Are you ill?’

In her despair, she tried to push him away from her.

‘Mrs Renfree, do you need the services of the Reverend Lanyon?’ Olivia asked. Handing the bouquet of red roses George Spears had just given her to Timothy, she took Rosie’s hand, pulled off her net glove and began rubbing her wrist. ‘She’s quite overcome, we must take her into the house.’

‘No, please,’ Rosie gasped weakly. ‘’Tis only the heat. I must go. My husband will worry.’

‘It is a soporific day,’ Oliver said, aware of her struggles to free herself from his support, ‘but you are actually cold, Rosie. I’ll carry you into the parsonage and you shall have a hot drink. Miss Nancy Wills can attend you in the kitchen, if you prefer.’

Rosie had no choice but to capitulate, she would be too weak to ride for several minutes. ‘Yes, yes, that will do, thank you. I don’t want to be a bother. I’m feeling better already,’ she lied, and afraid Oliver would carry her and she would be brought into contact with his masterful body, she added swiftly, ‘I can walk, please, I am quite embarrassed.’

Olivia took precedence and escorted her into the kitchen. Seated in Nancy Wills’ comfortable chair, she sipped steaming hot tea, laced with honey. Nancy prepared a cloth soaked in lavender water for her forehead, and while tip-toeing about her domain, told Rosie the reason for George Spears’s presence at the parsonage.

‘I wish Mrs Lanyon well,’ Rosie said, not caring the slightest.

She slipped away ten minutes later, riding at a slow trot to clear her mind. When on Ker-an-Mor land, the sound of the distant sea was a little comforting and she closed her eyes, letting the pony walk on.

Her eyes snapped open a second later and she turned round at the sound of heavy hoof beats. She knew who it would be before the rider came into view, and although dismayed, perhaps it was best she talk to Oliver. She dismounted beside a stand of oak trees, which gave welcome shelter from the tortuous heat.