Page 115 of Rivals at Ashmore Castle

‘Because you have a very satirical tongue, Miss Rowsham.’

‘At any rate, I only meant something might have startled your horse and made him shy and throw you. It could happen to anyone.’

‘My mare is very reliable and never shies. Which brings us back to my being a bad rider. Shall we agree to blame poor Nesta and leave it at that? No use in my cudgelling the poor old brains if they won’t co-operate.’

The word ‘cudgelling’ gave him that odd flash again, of the Grimms’ fairy-story giant, an image there and gone in an instant. He sometimes thought that if he caught its tail and had a good look at it, it might bring his memory back. But he was tired of worrying about it and pushed the idea away.

‘What do you do at Christmas, Miss Rowsham?’

‘Stay at home with my sister and brother-in-law, of course. Be a good aunt to my nephew and nieces. Keep an eye on the servants, make sure everything runs smoothly.’

‘Doesn’t your sister have a housekeeper?’

‘No. She has a butler and a head housemaid, and I fill the gap.’ She made an equivocal face. ‘One likes to be useful.’

‘But you—’ At that moment the field master put up his hand and called for silence, and they had to stop talking.

There was dancing after dinner on the Saturday night. Kitty could not, sadly, call it a ball, but she invited the Brinklows and the younger Bexleys to come for the evening, so there was a nice young crowd and enough partners for interest. Uncle Sebastian played the piano and Frewing obliged on the fiddle.

Richard danced with Miss Rowsham, and felt how comfortable it was. They had danced together often enough now that they could match each other’s steps and turn at the same moment, and talking or not talking were equally easy.

‘This is so nice,’ she said at one point.

‘Dancing?’ he queried.

‘The atmosphere here, at the Castle. It looks so grand on the outside, but inside it feels comfortable, like a real home.’

‘It must be attributable to my sister-in-law,’ Richard said. ‘It never felt like that when my mother was in charge.’

‘A house takes the character of its mistress,’ Miss Rowsham said.

‘And Ashmore Castle couldn’t have a better mistress than Kitty.’ He looked down at her. ‘I imagine you would give any house you were mistress of a warm character.’

Thank you,’ she said, with a faint blush. ‘But I don’t suppose I’ll ever be mistress of anything but my own bedroom. Lady of the Bedchamber, that’s me.’

And he laughed, but only because he saw she meant him to.

Giles rattled his newspaper into a new shape, glanced out of the carriage window, and said, ‘I really wish you would see a specialist while you’re in London. A blow on the head—’

‘I know. You can’t take any chances with it. I’ve heard it all before.’

‘But it can’t be right that you still don’t remember what happened.’

‘Perhaps I don’t want to. Miss Rowsham all but accused me of falling off my horse like a beginner. Me! The fastest man over timber in all Buckinghamshire.’

Giles smiled and accepted the snub. ‘She’s a pleasant woman, isn’t she? Kitty ought to take her up. I’m sure she doesn’t have much of a life with her sister. And she’s just the sort of woman who’d make a good companion for Kitty.’

‘Oh, Lord! You’ve written her off as spinster lady-companion to some matron, have you?’

‘Not some matron – Kitty! Besides, what else is there for her to do? If you’re worried about her, marry her yourself.’

‘I’m not the marrying kind. And you couldn’t do without me, anyway. I’m your estate agent, in case you’d forgotten.’

‘Well, she could be an estate agent’s wife. We could find you a house in the village, handy for your office. Or you could live at the Castle. Kitty seems intent on collecting relatives like butterflies, the larger the collection the better. She says it’s because she was an only child.’

Richard smiled. ‘You’re very fond of her, aren’t you?’

Giles looked startled. ‘Fond? She is my wife.’