Free Miss Winbolt and the Fortune Hunter by Sylvia Andrew

the arbour Sir William stopped and asked, ‘Is something up set ting you, ma’am? The sun, perhaps? Or are you tired? We could easily sit some where and talk, if you would prefer it.’
    â€˜No!’ exclaimed Emily with more vigour than politeness. Her com pan ion raised one eyebrow and regarded her with surprise. But she could have sworn there was more than a touch of laughter in his eyes.
    â€˜I mean…I like w-walking,’ she stammered. She took a breath. This would never do. If she was to impress this man with the contrast between the gipsy in the hollow and Miss Emily Winbolt, she should watch her responses! They walked on in silence while Emily triedfrantically to think of something to say. After a while she said with commendable calm, ‘My sister-in-law tells me you were in the Navy. Have you seen much action?’
    â€˜When I first joined, yes. But the Navy is no place for a man in peace time, Miss Winbolt. So I took the…bull by the horns and sold out.’ Emily was startled. She almost stumbled. Had he meant anything by that pause in front of ‘bull’? She stole a glance at him but he looked un concerned, and she was reassured as he went on, ‘I was in the West Indies at the time, so I went off to explore South America.’
    â€˜How interesting. Where did you go? Brazil?’ To her relief the conversation that followed as they walked through the grounds was very conventional, mostly about his impressions of Mexico and Brazil. Emily began to relax.
    But then he said, ‘But we’ve talked enough about me. These trees are truly splendid specimens. Are they oaks?’
    â€˜Oaks? N…no! They are lime trees, I believe. There are one or two oaks scattered about the grounds, but they’ve been used as specimen trees.’
    â€˜I saw a splendid old oak the other day. But sadly, it had lost one of its major branches.’
    â€˜Oh?’
    Sir William laughed. ‘In fact, I met one of your brother’s men there. A Will Darby. Do you know him?’
    He knows, thought Emily. I’m sure he knows. But she sup pressed any hint of fear and said calmly, ‘Of course I know him. He’s one of the grooms. Have you seen enough of the trees, sir? I think I’ve shown you the best of them.’
    â€˜He warned me about a dangerous bull that was kept in the field where the oak grew.’
    Emily put on a puzzled frown, then said, ‘Ah, yes! I think I know the one you mean. That would be Farmer Pritchard’s bull. Black Samson. Shall we turn back now?’
    They turned and started to walk back towards the gate to the gardens. But her tormentor was not to be put off. ‘Of course I already knew about the bull,’ he went on. ‘I had seen it before when I was last in Stoke Shearings.’
    This time the twinkle in his eye was even more marked. Was he playing some sort of cat-and-mouse game with her? Emily felt a spurt of anger. She was not about to weaken. She must keep her head and marshal her wits.
    â€˜You’ve been here before? I can’t remember meeting you…?’
    He went on, ‘I had a walk along the stream through the valley when I was last here, too. It’s a beautiful spot. You know it?’
    Emily nodded.
    â€˜Very steep sides to it, of course. I would have called on your brother, while I was staying in the village, but lost my way during the day, and…’ Emily stiffened. He shook his head and went on apologetically, ‘With one thing and another, by the time I got back to the inn it was too late.’
    â€˜Really?’ she said with admirable in difference.
    Her adversary was not deterred. He said, ‘I wish I had made the time now.’
    The meaning was plain and she decided that this was the moment to stall him. ‘I am sure my brother wouldhave made you very welcome, Sir William,’ she said primly. ‘So would my sister-in-law.’
    â€˜And you?’
    She