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at this turn of events? That little adventure that she had enjoyed in Sheffield had been a thing of the moment, snatched out of time, an encounter with no past and no future. Now here was the buccaneer whom she had met, but looking somewhat tidier on this occasion. What did it mean, and where was the young clergyman to whom the landlord had referred? It could not possibly be this young man in front of her, could it? Thank goodness that Elsie had gone straight upstairs with her parents’ personal servants and all their belongings. The girl was quite incapable of putting on any kind of an act.
    â€˜Good evening,’ said Michael bowing politely. ‘How wise of you to take shelter from this shocking weather. My name is Buckleigh – Michael Buckleigh.’ He glanced quickly at Evangeline and saw her gaze narrowing.
    â€˜Good evening, Mr Buckleigh,’ replied the other gentleman, bowing in turn. ‘I am Robert Granby, and with me are my wife and daughter. I trust you do not mind our intruding upon your solitude, but there is no private room.’
    â€˜Really, Papa,’ exclaimed Miss Granby, her tone a little breathless. ‘Why should he? It is not his personal room after all.’ With half an eye on Michael, she wandered over towards the window, ostensibly to look out at the rain and in so doing dropped her gloves. Buckleigh immediately bent down to pick them up and took them to her. She glanced towards the fire, where her father was absorbed in settling her mother down in a comfortable chair, and took the opportunity to hiss, ‘What on earth are you doing here?’
    â€˜I might ask you the same,’ he responded, also in a low tone.
    â€˜Are you following me?’ she said suspiciously. ‘Why are you pretending to be a clergyman?’
    He was unable to answer this question because Mr Granby’s attention was now turned in their direction, so instead he said more loudly, ‘Have you travelled far, Miss Granby?’
    Miss Granby, with her back to the room, was not aware that her father was approaching them and said, ‘Don’t be absurd.’

    â€˜Evangeline?’ questioned her father disapprovingly.
    â€˜I beg pardon, Papa,’ she said obediently, but Buckleigh could see that her eyes were blazing.
    â€˜It is not my pardon that you should be begging,’ said Mr Granby.
    Michael intervened quickly. ‘No indeed, sir, it is not necessary. You heard Miss Granby’s words, but did not see her expression. She was teasing me for forgetting that you had already told the landlord in this very room that you had come from Sheffield.’
    Granby’s expression lightened a little. ‘Indeed. Well, that is a different matter, although the teasing of a clergyman is perhaps not quite the thing.’ He frowned briefly, for he could not remember saying anything about Sheffield. In his book, however, the contradicting of a clergyman was just as unsuitable as the teasing of one, so he did not dispute the matter. Besides, they had indeed come from Sheffield, and there was no other way that Mr Buckleigh could have known this unless he, Granby, had said as much. The entrance of the landlord turned his mind to other matters.
    â€˜Rooms are ready now, sir and ladies, if you care to go up,’ he said. ‘Dinner can be ready in an hour if that will suit.’
    Granby turned to his wife who had been sitting with her eyes closed. ‘Our rooms are ready, my dear, if you would care to come upstairs and rest. Will you join us all for dinner, Mr Buckleigh?’
    Michael had already resolved not to dine that evening and the presence of the bogus Miss Evans only confirmed his intention. ‘Thank you, sir, but I have just enjoyed a bowl of excellent soup,’ he replied courteously.
    Granby smiled. ‘You have a substantial frame, sir, and I doubt if a bowl of soup would fill more than a small corner of it. Give us your company, I