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wife’s elegant habit to shame. His pink coat and white breeches were immaculately tailored. His hair was as blond as his wife’s but her chignon was tight, while a suggestion of a curl had been allowed to escape over his collar.
    He turned his wide face with its limpid blue eyes and flushed cheeks to Cora. ‘How do you do, Miss Cash. Is this your first time riding to hounds? I suspect you have wilder sport in your country.’
    His voice was surprisingly high and light for such a big man, but it had an unmistakable edge. Cora replied in her most American drawl.
    ‘Oh, we hunt foxes at home right enough, but we find them pretty tame after the bears and the rattlesnakes.’
    Odo Beauchamp lifted an eyebrow. ‘You American girls are so spirited, let’s hope you feel as plucky after a day with the Myddleton. That’s a very large animal you have there, I hope you can remount without help.’
    ‘Where I come from, Sir Odo, a lady would be ashamed of herself if she rode out on a horse she couldn’t manage herself.’ Cora smiled.
    ‘An Amazon, no less. Charlotte my angel, you must come and admire Miss Cash. She is quite the thing.’ Odo waved a gloved hand at his wife. The blond head turned; Cora got the impression of wide-set blue eyes and a certain hardness to the mouth. Her voice was unexpectedly deep for a woman.
    ‘Come, Odo, you mustn’t tease Miss Cash. You don’t want to spoil her first impressions of the Myddleton. It must be quite unlike anything you are used to, Miss Cash, although I know that American girls like nothing better than to give chase.’
    Cora heard the sneer and narrowed her eyes. ‘Only when there is something worth pursuing,’ she replied.
    Further hostilities were halted by the yelping of the hounds picking up the scent.
    The huntsman blew his horn and the riders followed Lord Bridport as he cantered up after the hounds. Cora dug her heels into Lincoln’s side. He took off at a smooth pace, pushing his way to the front. He cleared the first hedgerow without hesitation, and Lord Bridport gave her an encouraging wave.
    The hunting country of Virginia where Cora had learnt to ride was flat and open, but here the landscape was thicketed with fences and coverts. The pace was hard and Cora was soon breathless. But Lincoln was enjoying himself, he took fence after fence without even breaking his stride. He, at least, had no reservations about this unfamiliar terrain. The field began to thin out. Cora found herself alone at the front, until a substantial young man in a pink coat came alongside her.
    ‘Pleasure to watch you taking those fences. Lovely, quite lovely.’
    Cora smiled but spurred her horse on. It wasn’t altogether clear from the young man’s tone whether his pleasure was directed at her or Lincoln and she didn’t care to find out. But her admirer kept his horse abreast of hers.
    ‘I’ve been hunting with the Myddleton since I was a nipper. Best pack in the country.’
    Cora nodded in her most dismissive manner. The man in the pink coat was not be rebuffed, though.
    ‘Saw you from the off. There’s a girl with spirit, I thought. A girl who could appreciate a sportsman like myself. A girl who would like nothing better than to see what I have to offer.’ He caught Lincoln by the bridle and slowed the animals down to a walk. Cora began to protest but he shushed her and, holding her bridle tightly, took off one glove and began to roll back his sleeve. To her astonishment she saw that his hand and arm were covered by a detailed tattoo of the huntsmen, the riders and hounds of the Myddleton. The portly figure of Lord Bridport was unmistakably cantering up the man’s forearm. Cora could not help but laugh.
    ‘Fine piece of work, eh? Took three days and a quart of brandy. The work is remarkably detailed. Can’t see all of it myself of course, covers my whole back. Take a closer look if you like. Don’t be shy.’
    ‘I can appreciate the detail quite well from here,