Nothing had prepared Angelina for the exquisite splendour that was Arlington Hall in the heart of the Hertfordshire countryside. She saw it from a distance sitting like a grand old lady on the crest of a hill, timeless and brooding, its elegant beauty expressing power and pride.

      ‘Oh, my,’ she breathed, with a growing sense of unreality. Her mother had told her about the grand houses the English nobility lived in, but never had she envisaged anything as lovely as this. Arlington Hall was certainly not a house of modest proportions. ‘Why—it’s beautiful. Is it very old?’

      Alex smiled at the dazed expression of disbelief on her face, well satisfied with her reaction. ‘I’m afraid it is,’ he replied, folding his arms across his chest, preferring to watch a myriad of expressions on Angelina’s face rather than the approaching house. ‘Built during Queen Elizabeth’s reign about two hundred and fifty years ago, the main structure survives relatively unaltered.’

      ‘It must have taken years to build.’

      ‘Actually, it rose at amazing speed.’

      ‘And all those windows,’ she murmured, watching as the evening sun caught the three stories of huge windows, lighting them up like a wall of flame, contrasting beautifully with the green and yellow tints and fiery shades of the finest, early autumn foliage.

      ‘People were enthusiastic for enormous windows in those days. Glass was very expensive, so it became a status symbol. People used it in large quantities to show how rich they were.’

      Angelina looked at Alex with large eyes, her animosity forgotten for the moment. ‘Your ancestors must have been very rich.’

      ‘They were. The first Earl of Arlington was a powerful politician and a trusted adviser of Queen Elizabeth.’

      ‘And did Queen Elizabeth ever come to Arlington?’

      ‘Frequently. She liked living at her subjects’ expense. I’m having considerable alterations and improvements made just now—woodwork has to be renewed, rooms redecorated, and I’m having the modern convenience of running water installed. It’s being done in stages and at the moment it’s the east wing that’s being renovated. Needless to say there’s an army of workmen tramping all over the place so you’ll just have to bear with it.’

      ‘Is Uncle Henry’s house anything like Arlington Hall?’

      ‘No. Mowbray Park was built at a later time and is quite different. It was designed on a much larger scale and is very grand. But you’ll see it for yourself before too long.’

      ‘And will you inherit Mowbray Park one day?’

      ‘Yes.’

      She gave him a puzzled look. ‘Then—who will live at Arlington?’ It was a simple question, one she regretted asking when she saw his jaw tense and his eyes cloud over. ‘Will you sell it? After all, you can’t very well live here and at Mowbray Park.’

      Alex hesitated, and for a moment Angelina thought she saw pain in his eyes. ‘No, I don’t suppose I can,’ he answered quietly. ‘But I will never sell Arlington. If I marry, I will pass it on to my heirs.’

      Angelina shook her head and sighed with sympathy for their mutual plight. ‘So you don’t have any family either—apart from Aunt Patience and Uncle Henry. You say your mother’s ancestors built Arlington Hall. Does she still live here?’ she asked, recalling Uncle Henry telling her that Lord Montgomery’s father was dead. Immediately she sensed his withdrawal. It was as if a veil had come over his features. Her eyes saw the changing expression on his face, a look that at once seemed to warn her not to pry and to shut her out.

      Again Alex hesitated. When he replied to her question his tone was harsher than he intended. ‘I would prefer it if you did not mention my mother to me, Angelina. I cannot imagine that she would interest you.’

      ‘I—I just wondered—’

      ‘Then don’t,’ he said coldly. ‘My parents are both dead.’

      There was so much finality and suppressed anger and bitterness in his voice that she refrained from asking any further questions.

      The four bay mounts pulling the crested coach at last danced to a stop in front of the house and Alex got out, gallantly extending his hand to help his aunt and Angelina. Just for a moment Angelina’s fingers touched his, and she felt as if the warm grasp of his hand scorched her own. The two following coaches carrying staff and baggage drew to a halt.

      Scarlet-and-gold-liveried footmen appeared out of the house and descended on the coaches to strip them of the mountain of baggage. In a hurry to be inside the house, Patience went ahead of them. Alex turned to Angelina.

      ‘Welcome to Arlington Hall.’

      Side by side they climbed the steps and entered the house.

      At a glance Angelina became aware of the rich trappings of the interior, the sumptuous carpets and wainscoted panelled walls and great beams crossing the ceiling. An ornately carved oak staircase opposite the entrance cantilevered up to the floors above. The butler, Jenkins, a lean dignified man with dark