‘We have to go to Exeter right away, Hudson. I know it’s late but I want you to have the barouche made ready and brought round to the front entrance as soon as possible. We have to bring my brother back home.’

Hudson snapped to attention. ‘I’ll drive you myself, ma’am.’

‘I’m coming with you, Rosie.’ Alexander placed his arm around her shoulders. ‘You’d better change into some warmer clothes. It’s going to be a long cold night.’

‘What’s going on, ma’am?’ Fletcher appeared in the doorway clutching a pint mug in her hand. ‘What’s all the fuss?’

‘It’s all right, Fletcher,’ Rosalind said with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘Please tell Lady Carey that I’ve been called away. We’re going to Exeter to fetch Sir Bertram. He’s been sent home from the Crimea because of his injuries. Heaven knows what state he’s in if he can’t write the note himself.’

‘You mustn’t allow your imagination to run away with you, Rosie,’ Alexander said gently. ‘He’s managed to survive the long journey so he must be on the mend.’

‘I hope so, but it doesn’t sound too good.’

Fletcher stepped outside. ‘You need to change your garments, ma’am. I’m coming with you. I know how to deal with all manner of wounds and broken bones. I can help.’

‘All right, if you’re sure, but you might have to ride on the box with Hudson on the way home.’

‘Do I look like a shrinking violet?’ Fletcher turned to Alexander. ‘You’d better tell Madam Hester where we’re going. She can sort out the drunken chambermaids and make sure that Sir Bertram’s room is made ready with a good fire and aired bedsheets. Come on, ma’am. I’ll see you safely back to the castle.’

It was still dark when they arrived at the Railway Hotel early next morning, but the ostlers were ready to take the horses to the stable and the chambermaids were going about their business, lighting fires and making the public rooms ready to welcome weary travellers.

Alexander ordered breakfast for them all but Rosalind insisted on being shown to the room where Bertie had spent the night. The chambermaid knocked gently and entered first. She lit a couple of candles and stoked the fire before leaving.

Rosalind walked over to the bed, hardly daring to breathe, but Bertie seemed to be sleeping peacefully and apart from the thick stubble on his chin and dark shadows under his closed eyes, he looked almost the same as the last time she had seen him. She decided to let him wake up in his own good time, and she was about to creep away when he opened his eyes.

‘Rosie? Is that you?’