After lunch the sleet turned to light snow that lay like icing across the parkland.

      ‘Oh, how pretty!’ Amelia exclaimed, as she stood by Sarah in the library and looked out across the hills. ‘If it continues like this, I fear we may have to stay some time!’

      Sarah looked exasperated. ‘It is only five miles to Blanchland, Milly! If the worst comes to the worst, I shall walk there tomorrow!’

      Amelia’s face fell. ‘Would you not prefer to stay at Woodallan, Sarah? It is so pleasant—’

      ‘Of course I would rather stay here!’ Sarah said crossly. ‘How could I possibly favour Blanchland over this? The fact is that I have lost a week already since the letter arrived and—’

      She broke off, remembering that Amelia was not party to the letter’s contents. Amelia gave her a curious look.

      ‘Is time a material factor then? I had not realised.’

      ‘No, I am sorry.’ Sarah looked shamefaced. ‘I did not say…’

      Amelia pressed her hand. ‘Time enough for you to tell me all about it when you are ready.’ She gave Sarah a penetrating look. ‘I understand, however, that Lord Renshaw accompanies us?’

      Sarah felt the telltale blush creep into her cheeks. ‘So I am told. It was not at my instigation!’

      Amelia raised her eyebrows. ‘On his own inclination, then—’

      ‘No!’ Sarah realised she sounded too vehement and tried to calm down. ‘That is, he tells me that Frank wrote to Lord Woodallan, asking him to help me in my quest. Unfortunately, the Earl is too ill to accompany us, so…’ She shrugged.

      ‘So Lord Renshaw comes instead!’ Amelia frowned. ‘Are you sure about this, Sarah? It sounds all a hum to me!’

      Now it was Sarah’s turn to frown. ‘Whatever can you mean? Of course I am sure!’

      ‘Only that it seems a little odd. I am not sure why, but…’

      ‘Yet it must be so. Guy—Lord Renshaw,’ Sarah corrected herself meticulously, ‘knew of the purpose of my visit, and that can only have come from Frank’s letter.’

      Amelia shrugged lightly. ‘As you say, my love. I must surely be making a mystery out of nothing!’ She moved across to the writing box. ‘Now, since it is not really the weather to go out, I shall write some letters.’

      ‘I’ll sit with you and read a book,’ Sarah said, selecting one from the shelves. She settled in an armchair beside the roaring fire, and for a time there was no sound but for the pages turning softly and the scratch of Amelia’s nib on the paper. Sarah, however, was hardly concentrating. Amelia’s words had raised some doubts in her mind, yet she was unsure what it was that disturbed her. Never mind—tomorrow she would reach Blanchland at last and unravel the mystery of Olivia Meredith.