She stared at him, knowing his dignity rested upon her playing along; her job probably did too, but she felt caught between the desire not to humiliate him by walking out and the desire to humiliate him by walking out. She’s all yours. The words still rang in her ears. His casual cruelty.

For several moments, she hovered indecisively. Her pride told her to turn away, to leave him sitting there, but her body seemingly had a will of its own and she climbed the steps, putting her feet and hands where the groom instructed. She allowed him to thread the reins through her fingers, listening as he explained the basic manoeuvres of stop, go and turn, but she saw the relief on Sholto’s face that she was playing along. She wanted to ask him what this was all about – she was busy and she had work to do – but with the groom in their orbit, she stayed quiet.

‘Don’t worry, she’s bomb-proof,’ Sholto said, clicking his heels again and indicating for her to do the same. ‘But I’ll keep an eye on her. If she wants to take off, she’ll have to take me with her.’

‘You make that sound like it’s supposed to be reassuring,’ she muttered, drawing from him another glance. Did he see, now, that they weren’t friends anymore? That this was where he had put them?

Her horse, Norma, stepped carefully over the cobbles, passing below an arch and out into the grounds. Effie had never been this far off the ground without a rope, but she instinctively sensed the animal was placid and quite happy to have her on its back.

‘I doubt she can even feel you up there,’ Sholto said, seeing her hesitancy.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked, daring to look up.

‘Nowhere really.’

She glanced at him. Only he could make riding out over one of the finest estates in Scotland sound inconsequential.

They walked on, Effie’s gaze focused entirely on the narrow gap between Norma’s ears. She realized she enjoyed the sound of the hooves upon the drive, the rolling rhythm as the horse trod, head nodding and giving occasional whickers. She felt Sholto’s glances across to her, watching her form and checking her confidence, but he didn’t speak, allowing her to settle in the saddle.

Once they were passing by the back of the great house, she sneaked a look at him, so handsome in profile and absolutely at home in this landscape. His face was relaxed, his eyes on the horizon, hands resting on the pommel of the saddle. She supposed he had been riding since birth.

Not climbing, though. She had that on him, at least.