He had changed her from ‘lovely young girl’ to ‘woman’ and the word had stronger implications. A rise of panic brought her to her feet; what kind of attention did he have in his mind where she was concerned? Something not wildly different from that of the young miners and fishermen that Clem kept at a determined arm’s length? Or was the baronet not remotely interested in her, seeing her as only a menial to be made amusement of or a stupid little fool. Whatever it was, her embarrassment was too painful for her to remain another moment in his company.

‘I really must be going,’ she blurted out.

‘Do you like foxes, Rosie?’

The question seemed to be almost thrown at her.

‘Um… foxes?’

He took a long swig of wine, emptying the bottle.

‘A young dog fox established a new den for himself and his mate in the autumn not far from this clearing. I thought to have a look at them the day after the morrow. He’s fairly active during the day, this particular fox. Make your way here in the early afternoon if you would like to see them too.’

Chapter 15

The Reverend Ivey no longer looked forward to his regular visits to the manor house. He had hoped Oliver’s emotional outburst would have settled down by now. But it appeared that his overheated reaction to Samuel Drannock being his half-brother was not a sudden furious storm that would quickly blow out; nor did he seem inclined to forgive either him or Kerensa for keeping the secret between them over the years.

Thoughts of Oliver’s blinding rage in his study that day could still make him tremble. The Reverend had a deep sympathy for Oliver’s feelings but it was too late to wish things had taken a different course. Samuel Drannock was dead and nothing could change that.

And nothing could change the fact that he was due again at the manor in an hour’s time and if he didn’t hurry along he would be late. During his prayers in the church this morning he’d thought to offer up one requesting that Oliver would not be there but then he’d felt that it wasn’t right to ask for such a thing in a sanctified place. But as he waited for his manservant, Ben Rosevidney, to saddle his pony, the Reverend hoped and hoped Oliver would not be at home. He’d had quite enough of the baronet’s stone-hard face glaring across his desk at him, and the sharp retorts to his every remark, which made the Reverend’s old heart lurch.