He shook his head firmly. ‘No. We’re not made that way. I think it’s human nature to want more than we’ve got.’

‘You certainly do,’ Barra groaned, rolling her eyes.

‘Not just me! Even if a man’s got every single thing he could possibly desire, he always wants more – he’ll always take a bite of the forbidden apple.’ He met Effie’s eyes with a secretive, knowing look. ‘I’d put money on it.’

She was heading for the garage later that afternoon when she saw the gamekeeper emerging from the woods, a pack of dogs bustling and running around his legs.

‘Miss Gillies!’ he called, raising his arm in the air to catch her attention.

She stopped where she was and waited as he altered course to come over. Only as he drew nearer did she see that the dogs were in fact juveniles, barely out of puppyhood.

‘Oh my goodness,’ she whispered, immediately crouching and holding her arms out as they swarmed, almost knocking her over. They had long silken black coats, with chestnut brown socks, chests and facial markings. She smiled – and it felt like cracking a nut. One dog in particular nuzzled into the crook of her elbow, its muzzle down and head pressed to her arm affectionately. ‘And what’s your name?’ she wondered as she stroked its velvety head.

‘That one’s Slipper,’ Mr Felton said, coming to stand near.

She looked up at him. ‘Slipper?’

‘Aye. Because she’s always under m’ feet.’

Effie smiled again. This time it didn’t feel quite so alien. ‘I like it. It suits her. How old are they?’

‘Seven months now. They’re getting leggy . . . and very boisterous.’

‘Ah but they’re beautiful. How many have you got?’

‘Nine. This one here’s the mother, Storm.’ He pointed to the dog with the greying muzzle. ‘I’ve had her since she was born. And her mother before her. They’re from good stock.’

‘What breed are they? I’ve never seen the like before.’

‘Gordon setters. Intelligent, biddable, soft mouths. Excellent gundogs. They’ve an instinct for the birds. His lordship wouldn’t have any other kind.’

He’d have had Poppit, she thought, if he’d known how clever she was, how attuned to the wildlife and birdlife around them, how loving and responsive and kind and brave . . . The sadness surged in her again. How much had she lost? And for what exactly? She had gained nothing by being here . . .

Slipper was still nuzzling her, the other dogs losing interest as they picked up on other smells. ‘Can I pick her up?’

‘If you wish.’