Page 9 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

‘He is quite upset about Lady Rachel’s situation.’

‘Yes, it would be a very unwise match. Reckless, in fact.’

‘I don’t think that’s why he’s upset,’ Afton said. ‘He doesn’t like having to be harsh with her, and he rather likes Mr Tullamore.’

‘I’m afraid there’s an unfortunate streak of the romantic in his lordship. It must be all that digging up of history. They were always falling in love with the wrong people in history times, weren’t they?’

Afton gave her an impish grin. ‘I can assure you there’s nothing romantic about digging about in tombs – all heat and dust and flies, and bad food, and sand getting into everything. How fastidious gentlemen can bring themselves to do it . . . !’

‘It’s reverting to childhood, that’s what it is,’ Mrs Webster said, amused. ‘There never was a little boy who didn’t want to mess about with mud pies and get himself filthy.’

‘I think you may have put your finger on it,’ said Afton.

‘Of course I have. Another cup?’

‘Thank you.’ He watched her pour. ‘I really am enjoying this. Ours is a lonely calling – having to hold ourselves aloof. It’s nice to have a conversation with an equal for a change.’

‘I was just thinking the same,’ she said. ‘Your predecessor, Mr Moss – he was a very fine butler, but not a great one for conversation. He liked to tell you things. It’s not the same.’

‘Indeed it’s not.’

‘Will you have a piece of cake?’ She eased a slice onto a plate for him. ‘Lady Rachel’s all smiles now,’ she reverted, ‘but she’ll soon have them wiped off when her dowager ladyship finds out Mr Tullamore’s been here.’

‘How will she find out? Surely his lordship won’t tell her?’

She gave him a canny look. ‘Oh, she’ll know all right. If no-one else tells her, Lord Leake will. She’s his big sister and he writes to her regularly. She’s going to come down like a thunderbolt, I can tell you. Lady Rachel had better watch out.’

Fergus and Angus left the same morning, sharing the carriage to the station. Fergus was on the way to visit friends for the New Year, to spread the good news of his betrothal before returning to Italy. Angus was going to London.

He’d had a private talk with Richard in the afternoon of his last day.

‘I know I have to go home and face the music,’ he said, ‘but I don’t want to go until after the Huntleys have left.’

‘I don’t blame you,’ Richard said. It was just after luncheon. It had turned unexpectedly mild, and the air was damp and milky, echoing with rooks supposing prematurely that spring was on the way. He was going down to the stables to check on the horses and, seeing the furrowing of Angus’s brow throughout the meal, had invited him to go along, so as to give him the opportunity to unburden. Their feet crunched on the damp gravel, and the air smelt of wet grass and leaf-mould.

‘You see, I know my father is going to make a tremendous fuss,’ Angus said, ‘and it would be awful if he did it while they were still there.’

‘Yes,’ said Richard. ‘Humiliating for Miss Huntley, for one thing.’

Angus reddened. ‘I feel an absolute cad, but I can’t help it. It would be worse if I married her feeling as I do, and made her miserable, wouldn’t it?’

It wasn’t a rhetorical question. Richard slowed his pace so they shouldn’t get to the stable yard too soon. ‘No-one likes to be rejected,’ he said. ‘But it depends on her feelings for you. Does she love you?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Angus said, frowning in thought. ‘It’s hard to say – she’s one of those terribly composed girls who doesn’t show much, but I honestly don’t see how she can. We’ve spent so little time together. I think she’s just very obedient. And . . .’ He hesitated.

‘And?’

‘Well, girls think differently about marriage, don’t they? I mean, they know they have to get married to someone or other.’

‘So when will it be safe to go home?’

‘I’m pretty sure he said the Huntleys were leaving after Twelfth Night because there was a house party at the Culrosses’ he and Mother were going to. And I know he has to be in Edinburgh on the Monday for business, and Mother will probably stay on at Craigend because she doesn’t like Edinburgh in the winter. So if I could tackle him in Edinburgh I wouldn’t have to upset her.’

They paused in the gateway to the stables. A horse somewhere was banging a door with an impatient forefoot. ‘Giles is saying you have to leave tomorrow,’ Richard said, ‘so you’ll need a burrow to lurk in for a week or ten days.’

‘It’s awkward,’ Angus said. ‘I have a little rhino, but I don’t know how long it will have to last, and hotels are expensive.’

‘Well, if you want to wait out your time in London, I know of a cheap place that’s clean and decent – I’ve stayed there myself. It’s near Victoria station. I’ll write down the direction for you.’