His grip tightened on the wheel as he glanced over with another icy look. ‘I hardly think we need worry that you’ll be short of friends.’

She frowned. ‘I don’t under—’

‘You’re very tight with Felton.’

What? An astonished gasp escaped her. ‘But . . . I’ve only spoken to him a few times!’

‘So?’ A few times could be all it took. Hadn’t it been exactly that for them? One look, in fact. One smile.

He shot her a look, and this time there was more to see in his eyes. He wasn’t cold at all, she realized. He was boiling hot, burning up. But with what? Rage?

The Auchinleck village sign flashed past the window. Already? The car moved so fast. She looked at him again. ‘Sholto—’

‘Don’t get me wrong, it’s good news. Very good. I can see it between you. He’s certainly keen and you’d be a good match together.’ He nodded as if agreeing with himself. ‘Shared interests, similar backgrounds.’

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘You sound like my father – marrying me off.’

His fingers tapped on the wheel, rigid and rhythmic. ‘Well, there’s no point fighting the inevitable.’

Fighting the inevitable. Was that to be her destiny, then? Married? Or married to a man of her own kind? She stared at him. ‘And what if I don’t want to get married?’

He shook his head as though she was a tiresome child. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You need to secure your future.’

She turned away from him, feeling a rush of emotion she wasn’t sure she could hold back. Her very life was teetering on a precipice but she had thought she might endure it if she had him as a friend. Someone she could trust. But for him to say those things, to push her towards someone else and not make a single mention of what had happened between them . . . Had he really forgotten the last thing he’d said to her on the island? He had wanted to make a plan, to find a way forward with her. And now he was palming her off to his own gamekeeper? Who was this version of the man she had thought she knew?

She could see the signs for the station up ahead now and she let her hands drop, allowing her hair to fly around her head, grateful for the protection it gave her from his enquiring glances. She would not cry in front of him. She would not. She clasped her hands together till the knuckles were white.

He glanced over, seeing her rigid form. ‘Oh for God’s sake, Effie, what do you want me to say?’ he snapped. ‘I never asked you to come here!’ He indicated right and pulled up alongside the station front.

‘No, your father did.’