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her hair. Holly glanced through a small pile of letters that had arrived in her absence while Mabel repinned it.
    Most were congratulations on her recent marriage from the surrounding folk, but near the bottom she came upon a folded sheet addressed to her in a hand she well recognized, though the writer had made an effort to disguise it.
    It was from Noel.

CHAPTER FOUR
    “M Y HAIR IS FINE , Mabel, thank you,” said Holly as casually as she could manage, picking up a different letter and breaking the seal. “You may go.”
    The moment she was alone, she dropped the letter she was holding and tore open Noel’s. So eager was she to know the contents that it took her a moment to realize that Noel had written it in their old childhood code—the code they had shared with no one else. It had been years since Holly had seen it, and though she herself had helped to devise it, for one panicked instant she feared that she had forgotten how it worked.
    The memory came rushing back. It would read from bottom to top, of course, and from right to left. Every third word would be a nonsense word, and the others, their letters staggered by four so that A equalled D and Y equalled B, alternated French, Italian, German and English, in all of which she and Noel were fluent. Really, it was a rather clever code, she thought, particularly given that they were but fourteen years old when they invented it.
    Carefully, she worked out the message. “Sorry this is so long reaching you,” it read. “I am sending it by way of America. Took ship to France and am safe in Paris. Have clerk position, making useful connections. Essential you maintain secrecy. Reply only in code. Send to M. Broux, Dover. Shall advise of changes if possible. I pray everyone is well and your debut was successful.”
    Tears of relief trickled from the corners of her eyes as she read it through again to be sure. Noel was safe, or had been two months ago. Silently, she offered up a prayer of thanks.
    “Ah, here you are! The tea is ready,” Maman greeted her when she reentered the parlour a moment later.
    Holly chattered cheerfully about their journey as she poured out, her relief over Noel’s safety giving her added animation. Hunt was regarding her curiously, she noticed, but of course he could have no idea as to the reason for her added bounce. She smiled brilliantly at him as she handed him his cup, and he seemed to relax, rewarding her with the twinkle that appeared ever more frequently in his eyes of late.
    After tea, Holly gave Hunt a tour of the rambling manor house. Fresh from the dowager’s instruction, she could not help noticing certain things about Tidebourne that needed improvement. Small repairs were left undone, and at least one of the maids was shirking her cleaning duties, but she decided against antagonizing Blanche by mentioning them.
    Indeed, Holly intended to thoroughly enjoy this brief hiatus, away from the responsibilities of Wickburn. When they reached London, she would have to learn a whole new set of rules and duties, this time under Camilla’s tutelage. But for now, she could relax and spend some quiet time with her husband.
    The next morning, Holly led Hunt down to the empty kennels, recalling his interest in foxhounds. “We have only old Arrow now, as I mentioned before, but you can see how Father designed the enclosure,” she said, pointing to the half of the barn that housed it.
    “Very efficient use of the space, I must say. This area was for whelping, I presume?”
    Holly nodded eagerly. “Yes, and we had some fine pups born here. Why, Mr. Assheton-Smith himself once sent to inquire about purchasing a couple of them.”
    Hunt’s eyebrows rose gratifyingly. “Quite a local legend, your father’s pack, I perceive. Perhaps I shall check round to have a look at those you mentioned before. They were sold to a farmer hereabouts, you said?”
    “Yes, Mr. Danvers, at Humblegate Farm. I must admit, I still miss Belltongue and Saddleback.