“I hope so. Things may be different when word gets out about my inheritance. There are still owners of stately homes who would love an infusion of cash.” Before I could say anything she went on, “But I’m in no hurry, Georgie. I want to make a name for myself in the fashion world to rival Chanel.”

“A modest goal,” I replied, making her laugh.

Belinda carried her plate and cup over to the sink. “I tell you one thing,” she said, “I’m not about to take a cold bath down in that cellar. Let’s go and find a comfortable bed and a good bathroom. Then we can think about spiffing this place up. It will be a fun challenge, won’t it?”

“Oh definitely,” I agreed, although secretly I thought that we were looking at an enormous project. We warmed water over the fire for a quick wash and then we set off. Now I was able to see the surroundings in the daylight and to appreciate fully where we had come. The scenery was indeed spectacular. To our right was nothing but granite cliffs above a wide bay. There were no beaches and waves rolled in from the Atlantic to break on the rocks below. Out at sea was a small rocky island over which the spray was breaking while seagulls whirled. Not a friendly sort of coastline, I thought. I could understand how wreckers did good business here.

Now that the weather was sparkling clear Belinda insisted on putting Brutus’s top down. “It’s why I bought a sports car, darling,” she said. “The wind in our hair.”

“May I remind you that it’s October and it’s rather a cold wind,” I pointed out.

“Oh, Georgie, don’t be such a wet blanket. You were raised at Castle Rannoch. You’re used to Highland gales, surely.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t mean that I enjoyed them,” I said.

“You’ll thank me for this,” she said as the top folded flat and was latched down. She started the engine, had a couple of attempts at getting the motor into gear and then we shot forward. “You see,” she shouted. “Invigorating.”