Alexander let them argue amicably as the coachman encouraged the horses into a light trot. His mind was filled with the image of the woman he’d just left, the woman who had occupied his thoughts for days. He had made a conscious effort not to return to the market. It had been a pure fluke that he’d strolled through it that day. If Ebony hadn’t thrown a shoe necessitating him finding the nearest blacksmith he would never have met her, and he knew no good could come from his interest in her. She was a young working-class widow with a small child; his parents would have a fit if they learned of any association between them, besides which he was only home on leave occasionally. But she had bowled him over – that was the only way he could describe how he felt to himself. Certainly no other woman had had such an immediate and intense impact on him. He couldn’t dwell on it, he knew that, and it would be easier once he was back with the regiment. But first he had Christmas and the New Year to get through. It was going to take all his patience and then some to cope with things at home.

He groaned inwardly. One of the reasons he had persuaded Lawrence and Estelle and the children to come to Highfield Hall over the festive period was to try and offset his mother’s almost obsessional desire to matchmake. With Lawrence in the state he was in, his mother had conceded that a quiet Christmas and New Year was best, but that hadn’t stopped her inviting the Conways and the Charlton-Smythes for a few days and both families had unmarried daughters. But he had been concerned, deeply concerned, about his friend’s state of mind, he reassured himself as a pang of guilt made itself felt. The letter Estelle had written to him in secret last month had been desperate and he knew she was beside herself about the effect the situation was having on Nicholas. The boy was angry with his father and although he could understand that, he had to try and nip it in the bud and help him understand. Nicholas was intelligent far beyond his years but he was also an impatient and spirited little boy and even at six years old suffered fools badly. Rosaleen had a much sweeter and gentler nature, like her mother. He supposed if he was being honest Nicholas was the spitting image of his father in nature as well as looks, which was why the two clashed. Lawrence had never been one to make allowances for another’s shortcomings.

He gazed unseeing out of the window into the whirling snow.