A chill seeped through Anabelle's petticoats as she listened to Mr. Thompson's sermon. The shuffling feet, whispers, and the occasional coughs or sneezes echoed around the smooth stone walls of the nave as the residents of Haltford came together for the Sunday morning service. Or at least most of them.

Her gaze strayed to the pews containing the residents of Blackwood Hall. Everyone in the parish knew Sir Henry was not expected back for another week. Instead, Mrs. North sat alone, back straight, with the poke of her elderly bonnet dancing between rapt attention of Mr. Thompson and the distraction of two of the new maids in the row behind who were giggling by the south aisle.

Of Mr. Fielding there was no sign.

Anabelle knew she was not the only one to notice his absence. Mrs Latimer had also hoped to catch sight of the man that many ladies in the parish were talking about. Of course, the steward merited no interest in his own right, but as a source of information about his employer's preferences he would be invaluable to anyone hoping to catch Sir Henry's interest for their daughters' sakes.

She had tried to imagine what life might be like as the wife of a baronet. Yet every time she attempted to picture Sir Henry from his description—for few had met him in person—the vision somehow resolved into Mr. Fielding. Indeed, since their meeting at the stream, when he had risked life, limb and a good pair of boots to rescue Jack, she had struggled to think of anyone else. That heroic action ended any faint hope she might have had of dampening her admiration for the man.

A lifetime spent in the middle of nowhere had left her with very few expectations when it came to love or marriage. Unlike Diana, who always had her head in a romantic novel, Anabelle trusted that her father would one day provide her with the opportunity to meet some eligible young man that she could call husband. Now Mr. Latimer had finally promised to take her to a spa town, where she might meet someone of the right background and family; someone who, in all probability, would never need to seek employment as a steward.

It was exactly the situation she had been waiting for; so why was she raising her eyes to the statue of Jesus on the cross, praying that her father's leg would take a few more months to heal?

When the service ended, Anabelle waited as Mrs Latimer lingered in the churchyard, catching up with the latest gossip. Her stepmother did not stay for long, however, as she soon urged her family towards the lych gate.

"Have you heard? Mr. Gent has arranged a musical quartet all the way from London to play at an Autumn Ball. The date is set for a week on Saturday."

"Do you think Sir Henry might attend?" Selina asked as she lifted her skirts over a muddy patch.

The feather in Mrs Latimer's bonnet shivered. "I should hope he will. It would be very strange if he did not welcome such a perfect opportunity to meet his neighbours."

"Perhaps Mr. Fielding will be there as well," Anabelle wondered aloud.

"If he can afford the shilling for a ticket then he might," her stepmother agreed, with a hint of impatience as she entered the carriage for their short drive back to Woodside.

During the night Anabelle's dreams took her to the large room on the second floor of the Red Lion, where Mr. Gent held sporadic entertainments for the benefit of his neighbours. Mr. Fielding invited her to dance, and they promenaded between the other couples, her hand clasped gently but firmly in his. The room stretched to twice its length, and the music seemed to go on forever, as they danced together all evening.

She woke the following morning feeling quite exhausted, as though their dance really had continued through the night. Anabelle struggled to shake the memory of her dream as she walked to Haltford with Selina. They were admiring a new style of bonnet in the milliner's window when her sister said, "Belle, do you know that gentleman?"

Anabelle glanced down the street where the object of her dreams rode towards them on horseback, and she stifled a sigh. "That is Mr. Fielding," she replied, with as much disinterest as she could muster.

Although he was still some fifty yards away, Selina lowered her voice. "Your description did not begin to do him justice. He is very handsome and rides more like a prince than a pauper."

She could only agree as Mr. Fielding walked his horse down the street, his bearing stately as he endured the scrutiny of more than one lady—especially those with a daughter or two in tow. Today he wore an olive green frock beneath a drab coloured riding coat, and looked rather smarter than when he had been fishing by the stream. Anabelle took a breath to calm the worrying flutter in her chest. It was one thing to like the man, but something very different to find him so attractive.

"In fact I can find only one fault in his appearance," Selina whispered behind her hand. "I am sure the arrangement of his neck-cloth would never pass muster among the town gentlemen."

Anabelle scoffed. "That is hardly a fair objection when Mr. Fielding works for a living. He clearly has his priorities in hand if he cares more for his occupation than his presentation. Surely it is preferable for men to look like men, rather than vain peacocks."

Selina only had time to raise her eyebrows at her sister's spirited defence of the steward before the gentleman in question halted in front of them. He tipped his tall beaver towards the sisters and dismounted before Anabelle made the introductions. With the formalities complete, Mr. Fielding turned his attention back to Anabelle. "I am glad to see you are not wholly averse to walking in the company of others."

"You know I am not, for you saw me with my brothers and sisters only last week."

He raised his eyebrows with mock severity. "Your siblings were a little young to be adequate chaperones, Miss Latimer."

Anabelle laughed, before explaining to her bewildered sister, "Mr. Fielding thinks it is very improper of me, wandering around the countryside without some kind of chaperone or servant in tow."

"It is only your safety that concerns me," he replied in a serious tone. "The impropriety is for your parents to judge, not I."

She chose to ignore a topic they would never agree on; instead demanding to know why he had not been present at morning service on Sunday. He excused himself, saying he had been busy, and had furthermore not familiarised himself with the location of the church. Anabelle suspected his absence had more to do with not wishing to be the object of curiosity, and could not blame him. "We were just about to visit our Aunt Orton, and you would be most welcome to join us. She is a very good person to know in Haltford for she has a wide circle of acquaintance."

Mr. Fielding declined. "I would not dream of intruding on a family visit."

"It would be no intrusion," Selina said. "Mrs Orton receives a steady stream of visitors throughout the morning and one more or less would not bother her in the least. Mrs North is a particular friend of hers."

It seemed to Anabelle that his whole bearing stiffened upon hearing this information, reminding her of his haughty manner during their first meeting. She wondered if he had taken a dislike to the Blackwood housekeeper; a circumstance that might make a visit to Aunt Orton's most uncomfortable. "I am sure Mr. Fielding has many demands on his time. We should not keep him from them any longer."

He agreed, and after saying their goodbyes, the two sisters continued past the library. Once Selina judged the steward to be out of earshot, she said, "Belle, what were you thinking? How could you speak to Mr. Fielding like that?"

"What did I say that was so wrong?"

"Not the words but your behaviour! So familiar, as though you had known him all your life."

"It is only Mr. Fielding. He can be a bit stuffy sometimes, for a steward, but you saw how gentlemanlike he is. No one could fault his manners."

"But you didn't offer any encouragement when I asked him to join us. If Mr. Fielding intends to make his career at Blackwood, Uncle Orton would be a useful person for him to know."

Anabelle glanced over her shoulder. "I do not believe he welcomed the invitation. Did you not see how he tensed at the mention of Mrs North?"

"I saw no difference in his manner, except perhaps at the end when you dismissed him so abruptly. He seemed a little surprised then."

As Anabelle had only seen what she took to be relief on his features she forbore to comment further, but she felt a certain measure of satisfaction when they arrived at their aunt's to find Mrs North holding court on the sofa.

"I only wish Sir Henry was already married. You're never kept so well informed as when there's a mistress in the house. In his younger days Sir George would think nothing of turning up on a whim to shoot, with no notice of his arrival, and all of a sudden we would have eight or ten gentlemen to feed and not a joint in the house. I fear Sir Henry will be just the same; not that he isn't pleasant to me, because he has beautiful manners. Still he clearly didn't think it was necessary to tell me about Mr. Fielding taking Mr. Burgin's position."

Mrs Orton's hand hovered over a slice of fruit cake. "And what of the mysterious Mr. Fielding? Has he been any more forthcoming about his background or situation?"

"Oh no, tight as a winkle is that one. Mr. Burgin might pass the time of day with me when he was in the mood, but Mr. Fielding sits in that office and will tolerate no distraction. I think he'd barricade the door if he could, for he hates to be disturbed."

"Has he moved into Mr. Burgin's rooms yet?"

"No, and I don't believe he intends to either. It was understandable that he should have taken a guest suite at first, for Sir Henry ordered it so and we had no notion that Mr. Burgin would leave so abruptly. Mr. Fielding didn't seem pleased that the steward had only two rooms at the back, rather than a house on its own, such as they have at Gaddesden Park. Still, they've been cleaned right through and new bed linen purchased. I only await the word to move his things downstairs where they belong."

The discussion soon returned to the news that Sir Henry meant to bring a number of ladies and gentlemen with him from London. Mrs Orton concurred that nothing could be better. "I cannot imagine anything more delightful for the autumn ball. How many gentlemen, do you think?"

"Sir Henry didn't specify, but I have ordered the remaining bedrooms aired, and cleaned as best as we can. I told him straight before he left; if he chooses to fill the house as his uncle used to do, then he'll need to order a new bed for the north-west chamber. The hangings are faded and the frame is past repairing."

When they arrived home, Selina and Anabelle discovered that the autumn ball was also the foremost concern in their step-mother's mind. Mrs Latimer went through their closets deciding which of their evening dresses they should wear and whether they required furbishing with new lace or ribbon.

After patiently trying on three or four of her older gowns, Anabelle managed to escape down the hallway, where she found her father sitting in his usual spot in front of his bedroom window.

Mr. Latimer smiled a welcome as he lowered his book. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? I thought I had given you a day's respite from your onerous duties."

"I do not find assisting you to be the least bit onerous. Discussing the inadequacies of my wardrobe on the other hand..."

"Ah yes, I have heard all about Mr. Gent's ball. Say no more. I have no difficulty understanding your feelings, although you realise that Mrs Latimer merely wishes you to look your best for any young man who happens to be there."

"I do not expect that Haltford will suddenly acquire half a dozen eligible bachelors out of thin air; at least until Sir Henry returns."

Mr. Latimer studied her over his glasses. "I had no idea you had your hopes set on our new neighbour."

"How can I when I have never met him? I know nothing about him, except that he is under thirty and unmarried."

"What else would you need to know, unless you require a more precise accounting of his income?"

"Money alone cannot make a man into a good husband."

"I am glad to hear you say so, my dear, but a little of it never hurts. I would not wish to see you suffer a lack of comfort brought on by an imprudent match."

Her father's words seemed prescient, given the path her thoughts had most recently travelled. It really was unfortunate that Mr. Fielding had been forced to seek employment.

"And I have heard from Mrs Latimer that Sir Henry is both fair haired and fair featured, if that in any way tempts you."

"We only have Mrs Harrison's word for his pleasing countenance, although if he is anything like his friend Mr. Fielding—"

"Ah, Mr. Fielding! I am glad you mentioned him, for it is almost twenty hours since you last spoke his name and I feared he had been quite forgotten."

Anabelle smiled at her father's teasing. "Oh no, not forgotten. Selina and I met him this morning, on our way to Aunt Orton's."

Her father's eyebrows rose. "How convenient."

"'Twas a coincidence, I assure you. I had no idea he would be there."

"It is a very odd thing," said Mr. Latimer, his forehead furrowed with thought, "for I could go weeks without meeting Mr. Burgin, and yet you appear to be tripping over his replacement with alarming regularity. I am desirous to meet this gentleman you speak so highly of. It is a shame my leg prevents me from calling on him."

She felt herself colour and turned to stare through the window. "If I do speak highly of Mr. Fielding it is only because he is so very different from his predecessor; even you could not fail to be pleased by him. If you wish I could ask him to visit. I am sure he would not object, given the circumstances."

"By all means have him call, if he is not above entertaining a cripple."

"Unless you intend to dance a jig for his entertainment I cannot see how your injury can signify in the least. I would be shocked indeed if Mr. Fielding thinks any less of you for it."

Mr. Latimer rubbed his chin. "I have no idea what Mr. Fielding might think, but I find myself curious to learn more about him."

Anabelle busied herself straightening a pile of books on the table, while hoping that her father did not guess how closely her own curiosity mirrored his.