Innes Castle, the home of the Duke and Duchess of Brandon, was a many turreted edifice seated at the far end of a long narrow loch, nestled against the rugged cliff rising from the glen. The cliff sides were thick with heather, past its peak now, in early October, but still throwing off a wonderful purple haze.

They had been journeying for almost a week, a week of wedding visits to important if distant relatives, who had not been invited to the wedding itself, a week of trains and carriages, and now they were sitting in an old-fashioned closed carriage that bumped and bounced along the uneven trails that passed for roads in this part of Scotland. Petra leaned far out of the window to get a better view of their destination. “It looks positively medieval,” she commented.

“It was started in the eleventh century, I believe,” Guy replied. “Hamish will give you all the details if you ask him. There’s nothing he likes better than to discourse on his family history, although he’s spent little enough of his time up here in the wilds. He and Elinor both prefer Edinburgh when they’re not in London. But they like the children to spend summers up here, and, of course, August at Innes is sacrosanct for the shooting.”

“Of course,” Petra murmured, sitting back in the carriage again. She clasped her gloved hands in her lap, feeling a little nervous about the upcoming meeting with Guy’s sister and her family. She couldn’t quite imagine a female Guy, and she was very curious to see how they were together. Elinor was two years older than her brother and had been married at eighteen. She now had eight children, which struck Petra as an astounding feat in a mere eighteen years despite the fact that such broods were perfectly normal in a true Victorian household. The queen herself had had nine children, but Petra was not alone in thinking that in the present more enlightened times women had other roles to play in life.

The carriage rattled over a stone bridge crossing a swiftly running stream and proceeded up the driveway to draw up in front of the massive doors of the castle. The doors were flung open just as the coachman let down the footstep and opened the carriage door for Petra, who stepped down onto the gravel sweep to be met by a woman hurrying from the opened doors, a warm smile of greeting on her pretty, round face.

“Petra, my dear Petra. I am so very happy to see you. Welcome to Innes.” She embraced Petra, who, instantly responsive, returned the embrace. “I am so sorry we couldn’t get to the wedding, but we shall make up for it, I promise you . . . Guy, so you did it at last.”