She was laughing helplessly.

But some absolutely absurd part of her wanted to be standing on one of those turrets listening to the bugler blowing his song of triumph and watching her knight ride up to the castle walls, cloak billowing, drawn sword in hand, smiling up at her in triumph and love.

There were definite disadvantages to being a dreamer. It could make one daft.

“I have not shown you anything of the park, have I,” he said, “except the parterre garden and the empty east lawn. The walk about the lake is picturesque and can be done at a sedate pace in an hour or so or at a brisk trot in considerably less. The wilderness walk up into the hills behind the house is more rugged and takes a few hours to walk in its entirety. But it was carefully constructed and offers much variety for nature lovers as well as some pleasing prospects for those who like them.”

“I would enjoy both walks,” she said.

“We will do the longer one,” he said. “Tomorrow?”

“I have promised to look in on three different committee meetings in the village tomorrow morning,” she said, “and one in the afternoon. The Misses Laycock are coming to tea the day after with their young niece. She is Charlotte’s friend, I believe.”

“Might I make an appointment to go walking with you the day after, then?” he asked. “Most humbly? On my knees if necessary?”

She smiled at him. “I ought to make you do it,” she said. “You did not do it when you proposed marriage to me. The day after tomorrow, then. I shall look forward to it.”

“I believe,” he said, “that if I had knelt to propose marriage to you, you would have kicked me in the head.”

“Probably,” she agreed.

He got to his feet, set his hat back on his head, and offered her his hand.

“Shall we go back to the house for tea?” he said. “I find that after imbibing cup upon cup of the stuff for the past three days, I now cannot do without it. Is it like alcohol, do you think? Have I become addicted to it? I cannot wait for Con to find out and Charlie and Hal.”

“Tea would be lovely,” she said, setting her hand in his.

And she meant it too. The day had brightened somehow since he came.

She was not sure if she ought to feel relieved or alarmed.

She wondered if heartbreak loomed somewhere in her future.

But she would deal with the future when it became the present.

19

THE following two days were busy ones in which Jasper scarcely saw his wife. He was tied up with farm and estate business-and with the men’s committee for the fete. How he had got drawn into that he would never quite know, but there it was. Perhaps it was the fact that when Cornell had suggested rowing on the lake as a possible amusement for the men on that first visit made with Katherine, Jasper had suggested mud wrestling beside the lake. Apparently most of the men wanted more suggestions from him.

Katherine herself was never in one place long enough for him to find her-except at meals and in the drawing room during the evenings. She spent time with the housekeeper and the cook, and with the head gardener. She attended all the committee meetings in and about the village, except the men’s. And she entertained the Misses Laycock to tea with Jane Hutchins, their niece, Charlotte’s best friend. She invited the girl to join the house party. As she explained to Jasper at dinner that evening, their numbers had been made uneven by the fact that his cousins, offspring of Uncle Stanley, his father’s brother, had agreed to come-two boys and one girl.

For two days the weather had been cloudy and blustery with a few light showers. But though the third day dawned cloudy again, by the time they set off for the planned wilderness walk, most of the clouds had moved off, and it promised to be a lovely day again.

“We will do the walk backward,” he said, taking Katherine’s arm as they left the house and turning her to the east. “Not that there is a forward or backward way of doing it exactly, but the tendency always is to start at the lake. The trouble with that is that there are so many places to stop and admire, very often one ends up merely circling the lake and missing some of the best parts of the walk.”

“Through the hills among the trees?” she said. “Yes, I can imagine it is the best.”

She was wearing a sprigged muslin dress today, pale blue on white, and her straw bonnet with blue ribbons. She looked delicate and pretty. The high-waisted style of dress that was currently fashionable was perfect for her figure, emphasizing as it did her slender grace as the gentle folds of the muslin softly molded her shape and sometimes showed the outline of her long, slim legs.

There was a glow of color in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes-something their servants and neighbors no doubt attributed to the fact that she was a new bride discovering the delights of the marriage bed when in reality it was probably due to the fact that she was busy with schemes that brought her pleasure.

He pursed his lips as he looked down at her.

They crossed the wide east lawn, soon to be the apple orchard, and he led her onto the path into the trees. It turned almost immediately to the north and ascended the gradual slope that would take them into the hills.

“You are unusually quiet this morning,” Katherine said.

“I might have observed,” he said, “that my prediction that this would turn into a lovely day has proved quite correct. I might even have added the words I told you so. But alas, you were reading your letter from the Duchess of Moreland at breakfast, so I made the prediction silently lest I disturb you. Now if I lay claim to it, you will probably accuse me of taking credit for something I did not predict at all. You are not a very trusting person, Katherine.”

She had turned her head and was laughing at him.

“For the sake of peace between us,” she said, “I will believe you.”

He smiled lazily back at her.

“How lovely this is,” she said. “Like an outdoor cathedral.”

The trees were indeed tall and fairly widely spaced at this point, and the path was broad and straight despite the incline.

“This has always been one of my favorite stretches of the wilderness walk,” he said. “I suspect that when the path was constructed, it was begun at the lake side and ended here. And that by the time the designer arrived here, he had run out of ideas and energy and interest. There are no follies, no seats, no prospects down to the house or out over the countryside. Just forest and hillside.”

“And holiness,” she said.

“Holiness?”

“I am not sure if it is the right word,” she said. “Just unadorned nature, though I suppose the path is man-made. Just trees and the smell of trees. And birds. And birdsong.”

“And us,” he said.

“And us.”

They walked in silence for a while, the sound of their breathing added to birdsong as they ascended more steeply into the hills behind the house and finally came to the rhododendron walk, the highest part of the trail, where there were several carefully contrived prospects and a few benches and follies. And the heady perfume of the blooms.

“Oh,” she said. “Beautiful!”

“Better than the cathedral?” he asked her.

“But that is the wonderful thing about nature, is it not?” she said. “Nothing is better than anything else-only different. The parterre gardens, the cathedral section of the walk, this-they all seem best when one is actually there.”

There was an ancient stone hermitage to one side of the path, complete with crucifix carved into the wall beside the doorway. It was not that ancient, of course. It was a folly. There never had been a hermit with sackcloth tunic and matted hair and beard, telling his beads from morning to night and existing on moldy bread and brackish water. They went and sat inside it on a stone bench that had been made more comfortable with a long leather cushion.

There was a view down across the east and south lawns to the village in the distance. The church spire was centered in the view. It all looked very rural and peaceful.

He took her hand in his.

“What would you be doing if you had not been forced into marriage?” she asked him, reversing the question he had asked her a few days ago. “Where would you be?”

“Here,” he said. “I promised to be home for Charlotte’s birthday.”

“And afterward?” she said. “Would you have stayed?”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “Perhaps not. Brighton is a good place to be during the summer. The Prince of Wales is usually there, and he draws all sorts of interesting people. There is much company, much entertainment. I might have gone there.”

“Do you need company, then?” she asked. She had turned her head and was looking at him.

He raised his eyebrows. “We all need company,” he said. “And entertainment.”

“Are you a lonely man, then?” she asked him.

The question jolted him. It was completely unexpected-and quite unanswerable. He answered it anyway.

“Lonely?” he said. “Me, lonely, Katherine? I have scores of friends and acquaintances. I always have so many invitations and activities to choose among, that making choices is a daily chore.”

“And do you fear being alone?” she asked.

“Not at all,” he said.

He had grown up essentially alone-with a mother and her husband and two sisters, with a houseful of servants and numerous neighbors, most if not all of whom had been kindly disposed to him. He had nevertheless grown up alone.

“People who live among crowds can be very lonely people,” she said.

“Can they, indeed?” He laced his fingers with hers. “And people who grow up in remote villages cannot be lonely?”

“There is a difference,” she said, “between solitude and loneliness. It is possible to be alone and not lonely. And it is possible to be among crowds, to be a part of those crowds, and be lonely.”

“Is this,” he asked her, “part of the vicarage wisdom that you learned at your father’s knee?”

“No,” she said. “It is something I have learned myself.”

“And are you,” he asked her, “a lonely woman, Katherine?”

“Not often.” She sighed. “I like being alone, you see. I like my own company.”

“And I do not,” he said. “Is that your inference? You once told me that I do not like myself. Is this why I must be lonely? Because I cannot enjoy the company of the only companion with whom I must spend every moment of my life?”

“I have annoyed you,” she said.

Had she? He was not in the habit of allowing people to annoy him over trifles. He did not care for other people’s opinions when they concerned him.

“Not at all.” He raised their hands and kissed the back of hers. “Solitude holds no fears for me. I would just prefer company. Including present company.”

“I think,” she said, “I can be happy here.”

“Can you?” he said.

“I love this place,” she said. “I love the servants. And I like your neighbors-our neighbors. Yes, I can be happy here.”

“Organizing fetes and balls and house parties and other social events?” he said.

“Yes,” she said, “and just living. Just being here. Belonging here.”

“And bringing up your children?” he said. “Our children?”

“Yes.” She looked into his eyes, her cheeks slightly flushed.

“We could,” he said, “begin immediately on those children-or on the first of them anyway-if you wish, Katherine. Although, on second thought, perhaps not quite immediately.” He looked down at the bench, which, even with the leather cushion, was not very comfortable.

She laughed, though she continued to look into his eyes.

“I do want children,” she said.

“And I need them,” he said. “Or one son at the very least. So we are in agreement. We need to work on the first of those children. Almost immediately?”

She laughed again.

“It depends on your definition of almost,” she said.

“Almost is to be three weeks long, is it?” he asked with a sigh.

“Yes,” she said. “Do you not want children for their own sake, Jasper?”

He had never really thought of it. He thought now. Children of his own body. And Katherine’s. Children who could be loved and nurtured. Children who could be hurt, who could have all the spirit crushed out of them. If he were to jump a hedge one month before his son was born and break his neck, would Katherine marry another man to bring him up?