When the housekeeper announced dinner, Mrs Latimer showed them into the dining room. "You must excuse us if we do not stand on ceremony this evening, Sir Henry. I fear our modest family meal will seem quite plain compared to the fare you are used to."

"Please do not concern yourself, Mrs Latimer. I am rather partial to eating en famille. It makes a pleasing change from the stuffy formality you often find at dinner parties."

Their hostess' wide smile returned as she put everyone in their place. "If you would be so kind as to sit here, Sir Henry, I am sure Selina will be more than happy to answer any further questions you may have about the neighbourhood."

There was a curious light in Mr. Latimer's eye as he took his place opposite his wife. "Would you care to join me, Mr. Fielding? Belle, I would like you here, on my right."

Fielding took the chair on Mr. Latimer's left, which gave him an excellent view of Anabelle and his friend at the other end of the table.

Despite her feigned concern for the simplicity of their meal, Mrs Latimer's cook had risen to the occasion. Fielding lost count of the different dishes, served à la française. He only sampled those that were placed nearest to him, which included a raised pigeon pie and some kind of ragout. As they ate, two servants circled the dining table, filling glasses with a selection of wines.

Mountford, always eager to please, was more than willing to give their hostess the approbation she craved. "I must say, ma'am, that this fish is excellent. The best I've ever tasted."

"You are too kind, sir. I would be happy to furnish Mrs North with the recipe, should you desire. It was fresh caught this morning, and from the same stream that borders your own property. Is that not right, Mr. Latimer?"

"What? Oh, yes. You will find the stream handy for perch, bream and the occasional pike, if you know the right spots. Not that I have had the opportunity of late. I believe Mr. Fielding has enjoyed more recent experience with the rod than I."

Mountford looked up. "Did you catch anything?"

"Nothing worth mentioning," Fielding said, recalling the one small fish he had returned to the water.

Mr. Latimer glanced towards Anabelle, whose attention seemed fixed upon her plate. "It is always worth another try. I am sure you will have better luck the next time."

Fielding sampled the heady red wine as he took heart from his host's clumsy encouragement. Surely a father would be best placed to know his daughter's mind. Yet there was nothing in Anabelle's behaviour that gave him any cause to hope.

The Latimer matriarch was presently looking with maternal fondness upon Miss Selina, who remained oblivious while in quiet conversation with Mountford. From his conversations with Anabelle, Fielding had recognised a close bond with her sister and was inclined to think well of the young woman. During their brief meeting in Haltford she had seemed a sensible, practical female; watching her now with Mountford he recognised a familiar and worrying spark of interest in his friend's eye.

Considering how Henry fell into and out of love with tedious regularity, he would have to keep an eye on the situation. Given his own desire for a closer connection with the Latimer family—or one of them, at least—it would not do for Mountford to toy with the affections of Anabelle's favourite sister.

It was a mark of Mrs Latimer's ignorance that she was content to encourage the interest of his notoriously fickle friend, while rejecting him as an acceptable husband for Anabelle.

Meanwhile, Mr. Latimer continued to offer his own unique form of support. Throughout his conversation with Fielding, he attempted to coax Anabelle towards whatever subject fell under discussion, using an odd mixture of questioning and gentle teasing.

Yet despite her father's efforts, Anabelle remained subdued, responding only to direct questioning. Fielding was unable to ignore the nervousness in her voice or the absent way she clutched her napkin.

What had Mr. Latimer said to disturb her equanimity?

A small degree of discomfort on her part would be quite natural, given the delicate subject of their previous meeting. Yet her continued anxiety worried him and he was determined to uncover the root of her distress.

During a lull in their conversation Mrs Latimer's voice rang out across the table like a cracked bell. "I do not know of another house to equal Blackwood Hall, Sir Henry. I hope we will continue to enjoy your company over the winter months?"

"For the moment I have no plans to leave, although I am also at the whim of my guests. They may yet choose to return to town, in which case I would most likely follow them."

Mrs Latimer sniffed. "London has no great advantage over the country, except perhaps the shops and public places."

Mountford smiled. "Let us not forget the entertainments, Mrs Latimer."

"Yes, well, entertainments are all well and good, but the smells, the noise, the dirt...and all those strangers! You must agree the country is a vast deal pleasanter."

"My childhood was spent north of York, so whenever I come into the country it recalls some very happy memories. Yet I also enjoy a large acquaintance in town, which makes my time there most stimulating. That is what makes Blackwood so appealing. When I find myself bored with country life, it is only half a day's travel back to town; a most convenient situation, and one I intend to take full advantage of."

"I hope you do not intend to leave before the ball tomorrow night. Will we see you there?"

"Indeed you shall! There is nothing I would like more." Mountford caught Fielding's eye as he said, "I am very much looking forward to it, as is my friend there."

At this, Mrs Latimer peered down the table towards Fielding. "Well, that will be very pleasant for you, sir, I am sure. I'll wager you do not get the opportunity to attend many such evenings."

He was about to observe that he attended far more balls and dances than he would like, until Sir Henry said, "Oh, Fielding is very fond of dancing. In fact, he enjoys it above all things." Mountford punctuated his words with a wide grin, marking his speech as retribution for Fielding's earlier desertion.

Aware of his friend's penchant for mischief, Fielding fixed him with a warning glare. "I am afraid Sir Henry has over stated my feelings on the subject."

Mr. Latimer cleared his throat, keeping his voice low. "Come now, I am sure you are not entirely averse to dancing...with the right partner."

Fielding's gaze swung to Anabelle in time to catch her stare, and they shared a moment's connection before she dipped her head; shielding her eyes with delicate lashes. "Indeed, you are quite correct. I hope Miss Anabelle has not forgotten that she promised to save me a dance."

She coloured under the weight of their observation, but raised her eyes to meet his again. "I...I could not forget such a promise," she replied, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "If you still wish it, I would be happy to dance with you."

Mr. Latimer chuckled. "With a temptation such as that I might consider attending the ball myself. Despite being unable to dance I may still find some entertainment as an observer."

"Will your guests be arriving at Blackwood before the dance, Sir Henry?"

"They came with me from London, ma'am."

Their hostess glared down the table towards her husband. "Had I known they were with you I would have insisted that Mr. Latimer include them in his invitation. They would have been a most welcome addition to our table this evening."

Mountford glanced towards Miss Selina and smiled. "There will be other evenings, of that I am certain. For my sisters' part, they have been busy making plans for Blackwood's restoration."

"Knowing your uncle's circumstances, I imagine there will be a prodigious amount of work to do. We will, of course, call on the Misses Mountford tomorrow. I do not wish to be considered behindhand with our social obligations."

"I will advise them to expect you."

As Fielding turned to answer a question posed by Mr. Latimer, he kept half an ear on his friend's conversation, which had turned towards the difficulties of hiring new servants for Blackwood. Although the domestic arrangements of the Latimer family held no interest for him, he saw Anabelle stiffen upon hearing the subject of her mother's discussion.

After a few minutes, Mrs Latimer's voice rose again at the other end of the table. This time her strident enquiry to Mountford was tinged with surprise. "A new steward? But what will become of poor Mr. Fielding?"

"I hope my friend will find something more fitting to occupy his time. Perhaps he will show me the best places to fish, but..."—Mountford raised his shoulders in a helpless shrug—"Fielding will, in the end, do whatever he chooses, because he can."

Mrs Latimer's eyebrows rose. "Are you saying Mr. Fielding is not your steward?"

Mountford met Fielding's eye with a mixture of triumph and unholy delight. "My steward? Oh no, ma'am. My friend has merely been offering the benefit of his vast experience."

Their hostess blinked then looked down the table as though seeing Fielding for the first time. She leaned closer to Mountford, her whisper loud enough to be heard in the kitchen. "So you do not employ him in any capacity?"

"Employ Fielding? Lord, no! I would be more likely to work for Fielding than the other way around."

Temporarily speechless, Mrs Latimer fanned herself with a handkerchief, but if she felt any embarrassment it was of short duration. "I cannot recall when I have been so misled! Of course, had I met Mr. Fielding before this evening, I would have recognised at once that he could not be a steward."

A noise to Fielding's right—something between a choke and a snort—distracted his attention. Mr. Latimer returned an expression of such beatific innocence that it would not have looked out of place upon one of the heavenly host.

As the meaning of Mrs Latimer's words sunk in, Fielding stilled. The stupid woman had thought he was the steward! Anthony Fielding, a man who could afford to employ ten stewards if he so chose. Although he schooled his features to outward calm, Fielding bristled at the idea that a woman of Mrs Latimer's ilk considered him something less than a gentleman. He studied the remains of the food on his plate, gripping the stem of his wine glass with such force that the fingernails pressed into his palm. Yet he held himself firm, permitting no outward sign of his anger to show.

There was a moment of discomfort as he suffered the undisguised curiosity of the Latimer family. Then, Mrs Latimer leaned forward in her chair, a martial light in her eye as she redressed her lack of attention with a series of probing questions. Had he known Sir Henry long? How did he find Hertfordshire? What did he think of his friend's inheritance? Had he considered looking for a similar property for himself?

Fielding offered only habitual responses, leaving a part of his mind free to consider the situation he found himself in. He was familiar enough with the way their world worked to understand that if Mrs Latimer had assumed he was Blackwood's steward, then that same opinion would likely be shared among the neighbourhood.

But why did Anabelle, or even Mr. Latimer, allow such falsehood to flourish? Fielding drew in a breath as he imagined all the people he had spoken to during his stay at Blackwood Hall. How many more believed him to be nothing more than Mountford's steward? Who could have caused this malicious rumour to be put about the neighbourhood? As much as he wanted to know, he pressed his lips together, not yet trusting himself to speak with any complacency.

Mr. Latimer sat back in his chair, his voice pitched clearly for all to hear as he answered Fielding's unspoken question with one of his own. "I wonder what Belle was thinking of, spreading such tales."

Her father's comment—offered with only mild curiosity—produced the strongest reaction in his daughter. Her face turned the most alarming shade of grey, as though all the blood had drained from her.

It could not have been Anabelle. She knew him better than anyone. And yet, across the table she remained pale and silent, offering neither argument nor defence.