‘Everyone looks so industrious! Is there anything for me to do?’

Caleb smiled at her. ‘Felicitations of the season to you, Mrs Greaves.’

Adelaide felt her reserve soften under the force of his crooked smile. He had made an obvious effort with his appearance, wearing a clean but crumpled shirt and necktie under a scarlet and gold–patterned, double-breasted silk waistcoat. The fabric suited his dark colouring.

Netty put her hands on her hips and surveyed the crowd in her kitchen. ‘Out, all of you,’ she said. ‘Let me finish in peace. I’ll tell you when dinner is ready.’

Caleb rose awkwardly, pulling a dark woollen jacket from the back of his chair.

‘It’s too hot to wear that,’ Adelaide said.

‘I don’t wish to come to your table improperly dressed.’

‘One thing ten years in this colony has taught me,’ Adelaide said, ‘is that the rules we lived under back home do not apply.’

There was no sign of the staff he had been using as he limped slowly across to her. He put out his hand to support himself on the door jamb and his lips tightened for a moment. She was conscious of his proximity and a heady scent of sandalwood.

He smiled down at her. ‘After you, Mrs Greaves. Vanity has made me ditch the stick, but I’m afraid I need the wall.’

She stepped backwards, straightened and returned to the parlour, where the Reverend Johnson stood looking at her small collection of books. He replaced the book he had been perusing and faced them.

‘I didn’t see you in church this morning,’ Johnson said to Caleb.

Something flickered in Caleb Hunt’s eyes. ‘No, sir. Whatever my inclination, St Thomas on the Hill says it all. I can barely stagger between here and the bottom of the garden.’

The vicar held up a placatory hand. ‘Of course not. How foolish of me, I forgot. It is God’s blessing you were not more badly hurt, Mr Hunt.’

‘I’m sure he takes the credit,’ Caleb said, half under his breath.

Adelaide cast him a quick warning glance, but Caleb gave her a wide-eyed smile.

She frowned and shook her head at the infuriating American. She could not find the measure of this Godless man.

A knock at the door broke the strained atmosphere and Amos Burrell entered the room, running his hat between his hands. He had made an effort to tidy himself but he still brought with him the odour of horses.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said. ‘’ad to settle Mac. ‘e’s not been the same since …’ He jerked his head at Caleb. ‘’ow’s the leg?’

‘Mending,’ Caleb said.

‘Sherry?’ Adelaide changed the subject. ‘Would anyone care to join me, while we wait for Netty?’