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to run, taking three small steps to his one long stride.
    ‘I wasn’t hiding from you. I’m waiting for my mother,’ Amy replied.
    Leo looked at Amy and contemplated a ringlet of bronze hair which had worked its way loose from under her bonnet. He stopped and pulled it gently. Like a spring it bounced back then lay spiralled against the hollow of her throat. His eyes met those of the sweet young girl and he smiled down at her fondly. Fingering the curl, he asked, ‘How old are you now, Amy?’
    ‘I was sixteen in April. Don’t you remember, Lady Deverell gave me this?’ Amy touched the tiny butterfly brooch pinned to the collar of her blue cotton frock. Blushing, Amy looked down, aware again of the excited feelings Leo stirred inside her. Of Sir Edmund Deverell’s twin sons, Leo was her favourite. Laurence, the elder by a few minutes, was dull and serious, a young replica of his father with bullish features and a florid skin. Amy had heard rumours that Laurence was destined for great things, politics and religion being his forte. Leo had inherited his mother’s strongly defined features and fair complexion and to Amy he was the handsomest man in the world. The brothers were not identical in any way other than their red hair and height.
    Mrs Stoakley had informed Amy’s mother, who had then told Amy, that Leo was engaged to be married to a Miss Sylvia Davenport, only daughter of wealthy Lord and Lady Davenport, who lived in a grand house in Derbyshire. Amy pushed Sylvia out of her mind and lifted her head slightly to look up at Leo.
    Leo smiled into Amy’s wide innocent eyes and brushed his hand against her cheek. Gently he traced the curve of her jaw, following the line of her throat, and Amy gasped at the stirring of emotion she felt deep within her. She swayed slightly towards him and felt his strong hands on her shoulders. Leo glanced around the yard. It was empty but he could hear stable boys working in a stall nearby. Smiling down at Amy, Leo lowered his head and breathed in her soapy smell. Instinctively Amy tilted her face upwards, closing her eyes as if expecting a kiss. Leo’s lips gently brushed her ear. ‘Not yet, my little one,’ he whispered, pleased by the girl’s willingness.
    A stable boy led Leo’s stallion, Storm, out of his stall and into the yard. The boy stood to one side and held the reins, waiting for his master. Leo mounted the horse in one fluid movement and without looking back trotted out of the courtyard. Storm soon broke into a canter and Leo headed the horse off the lane and into the fields. Captivated, admiring Leo’s relaxed posture and poise, Amy watched until he and his horse were out of sight.
    Unexpected laughter close by caught her attention and she turned towards the stable where two boys stood in the doorway. Amy smiled at them, willing to share the joke, but this caused more amusement. Sniggering, the lads backed through the door into the stable and as soon as they were out of sight they let out another torrent of uproarious laughter. Confused, Amy retraced her steps to the kitchen.
    Ellen Farrell emerged from the kitchen just in time to watch Leo mount his horse. She threw a disparaging look in the direction of the stables and held out a cup of warm milk to her daughter. ‘There you are, love, drink this. I shouldn’t be much longer now. Its Lady Deverell’s birthday today and they’re having a banquet tonight. The Mayor and his wife are coming, and others. Dora keeps finding me more jobs to do.’ Ellen raised her eyebrows and shrugged but was pleased really, knowing the extra shillings would come in handy.
    Amy walked over to a low stone wall bordering the meadow side of the yard and sat down to wait for her mother to finish work. With her back to the cobbled yard and her legs dangling over the wall, Amy looked out over the surrounding fields towards the wood. She remembered the touch of Leo’s fingers and a slight tremor ran through her. Amy sipped the warm