‘I’m so glad we were both persuaded to do that. I’d never have believed I could enjoy it so much,’ said Morwenna to Marnie, ‘but then we were lucky in our partners, weren’t we?’ Like many people of statuesque proportions Morwenna had proved surprisingly light on her feet, and the Colonel, if not achieving Christopher’s distinction, had been a dignified and reliable partner. Bunty on the other hand, gathering momentum like a runaway truck, her bosom bouncing unnervingly with each over-sprightly step, had thrown herself into the dance with such fervour that it seemed as if she might easily run over little Mr McMichael, the stout but diminutive partner Giles had paired her with, who was a valuable member of the Friends of Glendrochatt. He was seen scuttling off towards the bar after the Dashing White Sergeant, the whites of his eyes gleaming with alarm, not to reappear till the reels were over.

There was no time for further conversation before Giles started organising everyone to do an eightsome, which was such a success with the novice reelers that by popular demand they danced it again and then went on to end the evening with a hectic Duke of Perth. As Christopher whirled Marnie down the set, her feet hardly touching the ground, she thought she had never felt so happy in her life.

The evening was brought to an end by the singing of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ in honour of Bunty, Win and Joyce, who would be leaving Glendrochatt in the morning. Bunty brimmed with emotion, the week blending in her mind into a delightful collage of Highland cattle, leaping salmon, rutting stags and soaring eagles – none of which she’d actually seen.

As Louisa watched Christopher and Marnie walking back to the Old Steading together, she saw him put his arm round her shoulder and couldn’t help wondering if the second week, to which she had been much looking forward, would now prove to be as enjoyable, as far as she was concerned, as she had hoped.

‘Would you believe it,’ she complained as she stood at the foot of the stairs after kissing Isobel goodnight: ‘Sod’s Law! It’s the most annoying thing, but I’m getting to like Marnie. And that . . .’ she said over her shoulder as she turned to go up to bed, ‘makes things rather difficult.’

Later, when Giles and Isobel lay in bed enjoying a post mortem on the week, Isobel said: ‘I think you’re going to lose your bet on Louisa to win the Christopher Stakes, darling. It looks as if the outsider is galloping up on the rails at the last lap.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Giles. ‘There’s still another week to go. Anything could happen.’