‘Good. Good,’ he muttered, but he was looking at her with an expression that could only be regarded as hostile. ‘Mother will be most pleased.’ But not him. That was the clear intimation.

He nodded, as if making to go, when he pulled back again.

‘Uh . . . I should add – she can be of quite a nervous disposition, the countess.’ He hesitated. ‘It might be best not to mention anything about her only son and heir dangling from a rope above the Atlantic . . .’

‘Of course.’

‘In fact, just don’t mention the ropes, at all. It’s irrelevant now anyway.’

She stared at him, knowing what he was really telling her. He was telling her that what had happened between them was irrelevant. Regretted.

‘Of course,’ she said again, her voice choked. ‘I won’t mention the ropes.’

His eyes narrowed, as though he was debating whether she could be trusted. ‘Good. Eight o’clock, then. In the parlour.’ He glanced back at the gamekeeper. ‘Felton. Miss Gillies.’ And with a jab of his heels, the horse took off again, galloping back down the straight the way he’d come, scattering the sheep and obscuring him from sight in a cloud of dust.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Every head turned as she walked into the servants’ hall, stopping Effie in her tracks. Was she late? Mr Graves had said noon for dinner hadn’t he? It was three minutes before now.

‘Miss Gillies.’ Mrs McKenzie drew her shoulders back as she spoke. ‘You’re joining us.’

She hesitated. ‘Shouldn’t I?’

‘. . . Not at all, you are most welcome.’

Effie hesitated again; it seemed a strange thing for the housekeeper to say. She looked at the staff already assembled and was grateful to see Mr Weir wasn’t present. Under the scrutiny of twelve pairs of eyes, she took her usual place at the table beside William. He was looking at her again with the same look from her first evening. Was it the trousers, she wondered? They did seem to elicit such strong feeling.

‘Mutton,’ she was told curtly as the plate was set down by the same kitchen maid who had snapped at her the previous morning. May, was it?

‘Thank you.’

Grace was said and everyone began to eat, but there was a distinct atmosphere. She felt the weight of suspense linger in the air, like gunsmoke after the bang – only it appeared she’d missed the bang. Billy was eating and catching her eye with his customary half-smile. Henry threw constant furtive looks her way; Jenny just looked bewildered by her. Fanny kept looking across at her like she’d been caught dancing with the great auk.

‘And have you had a pleasant morning, Miss Gillies?’ Mr Graves asked into the silence.

‘Thank you, yes. I went out to see the cottage where my father and I will live. Then I resumed cataloguing his lordship’s collection.’

‘Indeed. Were you able to find the cottage?’

‘Billy showed me.’