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glance and said no more about the matter until they retired for the night.
    ‘In all honesty, Mary,’ he said, as soon as the maid had left her bedroom, ‘I must confess that I’m not entirely easy about Victoria spending some time with your disgraceful old aunt.’ He sat on the end of his wife’s bed while she tied the strings of her nightcap. ‘I’ve always thought that much of Caroline’s wild behaviour was encouraged by the stories she heard about Honoria’s scandalous past.’
    Lady Mary’s eyelids drooped. ‘It was all so long ago, George. Yes, it’s a fact that she was once married to a Prussian baron, and then to some Italian count. And of course, there were all those affairs in France.’
    ‘Well, I think she was guilty of filling Caroline’s head full of romantic stories when the girl was far too young to understand the consequences of such behaviour.’
    ‘Oh, George, surely you’re not suggesting that Victoria could ever be swayed by Aunt Honoria’s tales?’ She patted her husband’s hand, settled her head on the pillow and closed her eyes. ‘Our Victoria has her feet set firmly on the ground, as you well know, my dear, and when dear Howard Royston arrives home we’ll announce their engagement. You’ll see. Next year we’ll have another wedding to prepare.’
    And perhaps there would be a significant event to celebrate before then, he thought, smiling to himself as he left her room. When his knighthood was announced, his wife was sure to arrange a fitting celebration. Perhaps a grand ball?
    Ah! What a night that would be for Sir George Shelford.

CHAPTER THREE
    When Victoria’s train pulled into the tiny platform at Sedleigh, old Wilf Potts, chewing on the stem of his briar pipe, was waiting for her with Aunt Honoria’s trap.
    ‘Hello, Mr Potts, how good it is to be back here again.’ He gave a friendly grunt. ‘How is my aunt today?’
    ‘Fit as a heifer.’
    She climbed up into the seat beside him. ‘I hope you and Mrs Potts are keeping well, too?’ Her great-aunt’s retainers were surely both well over eighty now.
    ‘Aye, that we are, thank ’e, miss.’ This was usually the extent of any conversation with Mr Potts and Victoria attempted no more while the little grey mare clopped up and down the hilly lanes leading to Lady Honoria’s house three miles away.
    She slipped off her gloves, pulled the hat from her head and breathed in the sweet, earthy scents of the countryside around them. Occasional glimpses of the whitecaps dancing on the blue sea beyond the cliffs took her eye and, looking down from the bridge as they clattered over the river, she saw a vessel under repair in the little shipyard which had stood there on the bank for more than a century.
    ‘Mr Strickland appears to be very busy in the yard.’ She craned her neck to see sheets of copper being unloaded from a wagon.
    Mr Potts grunted. ‘Old boat down there bein’ outfitted to go tradin’with the ’eathens.’
    She turned on the seat and glimpsed the name Fortitude painted on the vessel’s stern, before the trap rounded a corner and they trotted along the last mile to Aunt Honoria’s pretty little cottage.
    Of course, everyone in the family knew that it wasn’t actually their great-aunt’s own house. She had no money at all, but one of her old lovers – a peer of the realm who’d died twenty years previously – had left her a bequest of £200 a year, and the tenancy of this cottage during her lifetime.
    Victoria caught the sound of Lady Honoria’s laughter coming from the drawing room as soon as she walked into the kitchen where Mrs Potts was setting out a plate of plum cake along with three cups and saucers on a tray.
    ‘Ah! What a treat it is to see you here again, Miss Vicky.’ Her wrinkled face creased further and she kissed Victoria on her cheek.
    ‘It’s always a treat to be here, Mrs Potts, but tell me quickly about my aunt. I hear that her health is failing.’
    The housekeeper gave a