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two in Derbyshire to visit your mother?”
    Holly had been basking in his undivided attention in the empty breakfast parlour, since Hunt had been unbelievably busy about the estate since his return, but at his question she gasped with delight. “Oh, may we? I must admit I have been just the tiniest bit homesick. And it would mean so much to Maman, I know.”
    Already she had begun to view her earlier life with the rosy tint of nostalgia for a simpler time. Forgotten were Blanche’s slights, her mother’s occasionally tiresome chatter. To relax in her old home for a few days, with Hunt by her side, sounded heavenly. And…perhaps there would be word from Noel.
    “Of course we may. My presence will not be necessary in Town until late next week, and Father won’t be there beforeFriday. At any rate, he and Camilla travel far more slowly than I prefer. This way we may set our own pace.”
    Accordingly, they set off early in the marquess’s own carriage, a few hours ahead of the others. Hunt rode alongside the carriage much of the way and persuaded Holly to do likewise.
    “I hate travelling with Camilla,” he confided when they were out of earshot of the coachman. “She gets mortally offended if I choose to ride and insists on stopping every five miles or so. Of course, at the rate she makes poor John drive, that’s still at least an hour between stops.”
    “Perhaps the motion of the coach makes her ill,” suggested Holly. Though she now understood the reasons behind Hunt’s unfilial attitude towards his stepmother, she still had hopes of eventually healing the breach between them. “You cannot blame her for that.”
    “I suppose not,” he conceded. “But I needn’t enjoy it, either!”
    They kept a good pace, stopping only to change horses, and reached Tidebourne, Holly’s old home, well before dusk. As they drew up before the front door, it opened and her mother appeared in the doorway. There was no sign of Blanche.
    “Come in, my dear, my lord. How delightful a surprise is this! Why did you not send word ahead? No fear, though, we will manage.”
    “I knew you would put yourself out if you knew we were coming, Maman,” said Holly, dismounting. “We will only be staying a day or two, and if we can but have a fire lit in my old room, we will go on splendidly.” She concluded with a kiss on her mother’s cheek.
    “I sent Mary to attend to it as soon as I saw you arrive,” Mrs. Paxton replied, effusively returning Holly’s embrace.
    They all went into the parlour, where Blanche was occupied in painting a small table with remarkably ugly brown flowers.
    “Good evening my lady, my lord,” she said formally as they entered. “How kind of you to drop by.”
    “Blanche!” exclaimed Holly with a laugh. “You needn’t call me ‘my lady.’ I still have a name.”
    “I thank you for the liberty. I do hope you will find lamb chops to your liking for supper. Had we known you were coming, I doubt not Maman would have saved the ducks for your arrival rather than let Cook prepare them for dinner.”
    Holly saw Hunt’s jaw tighten as it had once or twice before when the duchess made one of her tactless comments about Holly’s nationality. On one of those occasions he had reprimanded his stepmother with a sharpness that startled Holly.
    Even though, she thought guiltily, she might enjoy seeing him put Blanche in her place similarly, she knew it would make their visit less pleasant. “Lamb chops will be perfectly adequate, of course,” she said quickly. Then, turning to her mother, “If you don’t mind, I will go up to put off my cloak before tea.”
    Her room looked much as it ever had, a cheerful fire already crackling in the grate in testimony to Mary’s efficiency. Mabel, her abigail from Wickburn, already awaited her there, a suitable gown laid out to replace Holly’s habit.
    Quickly, she helped her mistress to change, then sat her at the dressing-table to repair the disarray riding had caused to