‘Hmm?’ Fanny met her eyes for the first time that morning. ‘I suppose you shall hear, in the end. The arrangement between Cassy and Lord George Hill. It’s all over. Not our side, of course. Oh, no! Yet again, we Knights are found wanting. “All charms, and no money,” or so says his mother. Though it pains me to admit, the fear begins to take root: we are struggling to marry even one of them off. At this rate—’

But she was addressing a quite empty room.

Daniel did not even argue it now. One glance at Mary and he handed over the horse; watched with some horror as they bolted out of the stable.

Once clear of the house, she stopped to bunch up her skirts. There was no time for side-saddle. She must get to her friend. Oh, poor darling Cassy! That sweet heart must surely break now.

She flew over hedges, thundered across fields and fury – burning, white hot – built in her chest. The names of other such ladies swam into her mind. A roll call of war dead: Marianne, Miss Atkinson; even, there was cause to suspect, Lady Elizabeth Bligh. All of them bewitched and then thwarted. So then can none ever hope to marry for love? Or must they all just surrender to duty, like Fanny?

Iron now entered into her soul.

Mary came to the castle but sailed on straight past. The same silhouette appeared on the brow of the hill at the limit of the Knight estate. Again, he had seen her. Again, he waved and Lord Byron barked out her name.

And this time, she charged straight towards them.

CHAPTER XXIII

‘Miss Knatchbull, by what happy chance.’ Young Mr Knight lifted his hat; sunbeams danced through that hair as they might dance through a light summer cloud. ‘For I was coming for you.’ The dear dog bounded around her, expressing his joy.

‘Sir.’ Mary, close to breathless from the speed of her journey, gasped as she drew up beside him. ‘Your sister – how fares your—’ With one, practised, dainty manoeuvre designed to protect her own modesty, she swung a leg over the saddle while gripping her skirt and came gently to earth.

‘Then I can take it the news has already reached Hatch.’

Even as torment raged through her breast, Mary found, to her shame, that she could still enjoy the display of balletic grace with which he dismounted. In those britches— She cleared her throat, fixed her eyes firmly forward. Each with one hand on their reins, they fell into step and started to walk in the direction of the house. ‘Sad to report, Cassy has not left her room since the letter arrived late yesterday evening.’ Ned’s shoulders drooped, as if he alone bore the weight of the Godmersham world.