There was a moment of pure silence.

‘. . . Brava?’ Disbelief inflected the sound as Sholto turned around to face her. ‘What the blazes were you thinking?’ His voice was low but harsh, he as angry with her as Felton had been with him.

‘What? We agreed to have a run back.’

‘Not at full gallop! She could have been killed!’ he cried. ‘You knew perfectly well it was her first time. What were you thinking?’

‘I thought she’d enjoy it!’ Sibyl protested, looking taken aback that he was dressing her down in front of staff. ‘She was doing so well with the canter and we all saw what a daredevil she is. What’s having a little trot to climbing on ropes?’

‘That was not a little trot, as you know perfectly well! Look at her, she’s as white as a sheet.’

‘No harm was meant. I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss.’

‘A fuss?’ he echoed, under his breath.

No one spoke. Even in her dazed state, Effie sensed they made an unhappy four, caught in a push–pull tension where the movement of one affected the three others. She watched Sibyl’s horse’s hooves pick and tread on the gravel, a step forward, two steps back. Then they went forward, out of sight. ‘I’m going in,’ Sibyl said with a sigh. ‘I’m hungry.’

Effie felt Felton staring at her.

‘Felton,’ Sholto said roughly, demanding his attention. He waited for the gamekeeper’s hard, blue-eyed stare to alight from her and land on him. ‘. . . Thank you for your assistance in helping Miss Gillies just now. I’ll see you receive extra in your wages this week—’

Felton bristled as Sholto redrew the lines between lord and servant. They both knew he hadn’t acted out of financial interest just now, but they were no longer speaking man to man. Not anymore. The immediate crisis had passed and they must all revert to their roles.

‘Now take the horses back to the stables.’

The gamekeeper stirred angrily. It wasn’t in his remit to deal with the horses but Effie sensed his job and home, his entire livelihood, depended upon his next move. She caught his eye. ‘Please,’ she whispered. He could not lose everything on her account.

‘. . . Aye, sir.’ He took the reins of his master’s horse too and resentfully headed back towards the stables.

They were alone again. Sholto stared at her, looking as shaken as she felt. She couldn’t comprehend what had just happened – the moment that had passed between them on the mount, Sibyl’s dangerous cruelty, Felton’s reckless protection . . .

Sholto gave a small, sudden laugh, like he’d been hit on the back, forcing it from him. ‘Well, it really can’t be done, can it?’ he asked. There was something off in his voice, a brightness in his eyes that unnerved her.

‘What can’t?’