‘His calls are more frequent now,’ Oliver persisted. ‘Does he not call on you particularly, Rosie?’

‘On me? Whatever for?’ Rosie answered too sharply. ‘There’s no reason for him to. I go to nearly all the Bible classes. If he calls more it’s for Kenver’s sake, he can’t leave the farm and the preacher holds a prayer meeting for him there sometimes.’

‘Well, if I were Matthias Renfree and had a lovely young girl such as yourself in the vicinity I’m certain I would ride over to Trecath-en Farm every single day.’

Rosie couldn’t help but flush with pleasure. ‘Would you?’

‘I would indeed.’ He leaned towards her. ‘And if I was Matthias Renfree, would I receive a welcome?’

‘I… I don’t know. Matthias Renfree is nice enough but I’m not sure if he’s looking for a wife, or if he really wants one.’

Sir Oliver had set Rosie thinking about why Matthias was in fact so often at the farm. He didn’t seem to want anything in particular, he just seemed to hang around but if Clem wasn’t there he didn’t leave until he’d seen him. Was he there to ask Clem’s advice on matters of the heart?

‘Perhaps it would cross his mind if he were encouraged,’ Oliver said. ‘You do want to be married one day, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ she said softly, gazing down at her hands.

‘And presumably to be a farmer’s wife.’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you could do no better than Matthias Renfree. He’ll be steward of Ker-an-Mor Farm after his father, he’s learned and godly and has an agreeable countenance. Don’t you agree, Rosie, or are you looking elsewhere?’

Rosie frowned and did not answer.

‘Why do you not speak?’ Oliver asked, as though he was taunting her.

‘I… I’m sorry, sir,’ Rosie faltered, looking up appealingly. ‘I don’t know what you mean by coun-te-nance.’

‘Countenance? It’s another word for one’s face, Rosie.’

‘Oh,’ she laughed awkwardly. ‘I do have trouble understanding some of the big words the gentry use sometimes.’

‘No more than I do with an old man or woman speaking in a broad dialect. Now answer my question.’

Rosie did not believe he was trying to sell her Matthias Renfree as a prospective husband but that he wanted to know what was on her mind where men were concerned. She said, finally, ‘I haven’t given Preacher Renfree or anyone else much thought.’

‘Why is that, Rosie?’ he said, putting his head slightly to one side, a glimmer of mischief creasing his eyes. ‘A lovely young woman like you must surely attract a good deal of male attention.’