“So you’ll be dancing attendance on her for the duration,” Bill said, with clear resentment. “Fine.”

Pat turned to look out over the moorland again, angling her head so the wind prevented her from overhearing anything more. She wasn’t happy to hear Bill being like this. His disappointment was understandable if he had been looking forward to a dedicated shooting holiday, but one had to respect the sanctity of marriage, it was Jimmy’s affair, and mostly, she would prefer Bill met Miss Carruth before coming to conclusions about her. This wasn’t worthy of the brother she respected. Maybe she ought to take his airy remarks about a nerve-storm seriously; he sounded as though he were fraying around the edges.

A forty-minute drive brought them to Rodington Court. This was a large, aggressively defensive sixteenth-century building in solid yellow-tinted stone, squat and square. It was clearly built to protect against marauding Scots, the weather, or both. Jimmy brought the car up the drive with panache, and leapt out to open the door for Pat. “It’s almost six. Come on in. I’ll show you around the grounds tomorrow once you’re settled.”

Pat stood for a moment, absorbing her surroundings. Rodington Court stood on high ground, and the land stretched grey-green-gold around them, empty for miles barring shepherds’ huts and the odd stone fence, rising to faint mountains in the distance. “It’s lovely here.”

“It is, isn’t it.” Jimmy was at her shoulder. “Come on, old thing, no roaming off into the blue yonder quite yet. It’s not long till dinner.”

***

THE HOUSE WAS DARK inside, its thick walls pierced by narrow and insufficient windows. They’d conserve heat in winter, no doubt, but the effect in high summer was rather gloomy. Pat was allotted a bedroom along a first-floor corridor in the West Wing.

“We’re all in the West Wing,” Jimmy explained as he escorted her there, carrying her case. Evidently the footmen were busy. “Easier for the staff if they don’t have to run all over the house. If I had my way we’d shut the East Wing altogether, but there. Ladies and family are on the first floor, gentlemen on the second.”

“Ladies?” Pat asked. “Your fiancée?”

“And the rest.” Jimmy rolled his eyes. “We’ve an absolute houseful. My sister and her husband have come for the summer, bringing a guest, Mother’s goddaughter has extended her stay, and yes, my fiancée is here. It’s like Piccadilly Circus.”

That was deeply unwelcome news. Pat would have thought twice about accepting the invitation if she’d known it would involve intimacy with so many strangers, and the presence of other ladies might make it awkward for her to be a gun. Not that she cared particularly, but open disapproval would make everyone else uncomfortable. “The more the merrier?” she offered, trying to hide her disappointment.