‘I’m sorry about that,’ she said, passing him the kitchen cloth she had in her hand. ‘If I’d have known…’

‘Well, it gave your husband the first hearty laugh he’s had in many a year,’ Oliver said philosophically, taking the cloth and wiping his hands and face. ‘I hope I didn’t upset Jessica.’

‘She’ll be all right when she knows you’re not cross with her. I’ll have to explain that she must call you Sir Oliver, not just Oliver, that wouldn’t do at all,’ Alice ended on a chiding note. Then her full face broke into a smile, her hazel eyes held a rather wicked appeal and she twisted one of her curls in front of her ears in a way that was both demure and secretive.

‘What is it?’ Oliver asked, suddenly uncomfortable after the exposure of one of his weaknesses.

‘I’m sorry,’ she replied, lifting a hand to hide a smile, ‘but it was funny.’

The special friendship made Oliver smile too and he gave her back the cloth, momentarily holding her hand. ‘Yes, I suppose it was funny. Let me know if Rosie has any problems with her ankle and I’ll get Dr Crebo to look at it. Good day to you, Alice.’

Alice marched back to the kitchen to find Clem laughing with tears running down his face while repeatedly kissing Jessica. ‘Sir Oliver is not cross with you, Jessica. Cats make his eyes go all watery if he touches them, that’s all,’ she said soothingly. Morley and Kenver were laughing too and she shook her head, fixing all three men with a sober stare.

Rosie had a smile on her face but her thoughts were not on the recent discomfiture of the rider on the black horse she could see trotting out of the farmyard. Instead, she was recalling how good it had felt to ride home so closely to him.

Chapter 9

Mrs Tregonning, the Reverend Joseph Ivey’s plump, fussy housekeeper, was surprised at the identity of the young man calling at the parsonage door. She bid him wipe his feet, take off his hat and step inside the hall. She eyed his boots critically, grudgingly approved them then waddled to the elderly parson’s study to ask if he would receive the visitor.

‘’Scuse me, Reverend, but Bartholomew Drannock’s turned up wanting to see you,’ she breathed heavily, her flushed face pressed round the study door. ‘Says he can’t come back today if you don’t see him right away.’

The Reverend put down his quill to ponder on this. A moment later, he said, ‘Then you’d better ask him to come in, Mrs Tregonning.’

Mrs Tregonning wasn’t so sure the Reverend should allow himself to be disturbed. ‘What about your sermon, then?’