She thought that Lord Lynche was going to say something fierce, but instead he bit back the words and let her walk ahead into the kitchen, where Dipa was still sitting under the table.

“Having made the suggestion of something to eat,” Carina said, “I am wondering now if it was not a very foolish thought. What is there likely to be here in an empty house?”

She crossed the kitchen as she spoke and opened the door of the larder. It was low and cool with its flagged floor and long slate-topped shelves jutting out from the whitewashed walls.

Carina stared at them, thinking that she was dreaming and then she gave a cry of sheer astonishment.

“Look what we have here!”

Her voice drew Lord Lynche across the kitchen to stare over her shoulder through the open door.

There was every reason for her to be surprised, for on the shelves were great baskets of eggs, a dozen pats of butter and flat bowls filled with milk that had already turned to cream.

“Am I dreaming or are they really there?” Carina asked.

Just for a second Lord Lynche forgot his misery and then a smile came to his lips.

“It does appear as if you have rubbed Aladdin’s lamp,” he said. “But actually I remember now Mrs. Hobman asked me if she could use the larder during the week to store the produce that she takes to market on Saturdays. I believe that I am building her a new larder at the farm and it is not yet finished.”

“I am glad of that,” Carina said, and started to raid the larder.

She put some eggs, butter and milk on the kitchen table and then took off her riding hat and the coat of her habit.

As she rolled up the sleeves of her blouse, she realised that Lord Lynche was watching her and felt herself flush under the scrutiny of his gaze.

“I am sorry,” she murmured almost apologetically, “but it’s easier to cook without a coat.”

“I was thinking how practical you are,” he said. “Most women I know would not have the slightest idea how to boil a kettle of water, let alone make a meal of any sort.”

“I was brought up in the country,” Carina answered. “My mother never allowed me to be just a fine lady, sitting in the drawing room all day and doing nothing more strenuous than writing a letter.”

“That was right,” Lord Lynche remarked.

“I am prepared to accept the compliment,” Carina answered, breaking the eggs into a bowl. “It is something I am proud of because my mother taught me.”

“Who are you?” he asked unexpectedly and watched the abrupt way in which she turned from the table towards the stove.