Frances went upstairs to change and found that a new room had been prepared for her, a few doors down from Carleton's. She still had a view of the front drive but it was decorated in blue and cream without the rich wood panelling. Her clothes had been unpacked and put away, with the exception of course of those in her locked bag. A basin of warm water had been provided and she washed up before going downstairs, feeling hungry after her ride. A cold luncheon was laid out on the sideboard and she helped herself to a large plate of cold meat while she waited for his lordship. He joined her shortly and they sat down at the table.

"I intend to call on the Squire this afternoon," he advised. "Will you be alright here?"

"Yes indeed. I will practice my shooting if that is acceptable," Frances replied, relieved that he had not asked her to go with him. She needed some time alone. Although she knew she could trust Carleton, he had given her his word, she was anxious about whether his scheme would work. She had noticed he was already treating her differently than he had Peter Francis.

When they returned from their ride, he had stepped towards her as if he would assist her to dismount, a courtesy he would have offered without thinking to any woman of his acquaintance. Hastily she had swung out of the saddle protesting, "No - no, I can manage thank you. I am quite recovered!"

Carleton had come to an abrupt halt, realising his mistake. "Of course. I'm sorry, Peter."

Meanwhile Carleton was being welcomed by Squire Herbert and his wife. Part of him was conducting a civil conversation but another part was still thinking about Frances. He had yet to recover from the shock that she was a woman. Immense relief had been his initial reaction because it had released him from a private hell, but then he had felt furiously angry that he had made such a fool of himself.

Now however, his feelings were more complicated, and sheer amazement was not the least of them. How incredible that she should have fenced so well with Maestro Mancini and outshot his friends and himself so brilliantly.

"While you are here, Richard," the Squire was saying, "I was wondering if I might send Jeremy over to you, to meet your agent and see what the work would entail. Give him a chance to decide if that is what he wants to do with his life."

Carleton nodded his agreement. Jeremy was the son who was interested in learning about estate management. Squire Herbert filled him in on the local news until eventually he took his leave and swung himself onto Diabolo to complete his appointed round of visits.

Back at Chatswood, Frances finished her shooting practice and returned to the house. The thought had occurred to her that she might find some reference to the Murray family in one of the many books in the library. Mrs Madden showed her into the room pleasantly enough, but she fancied that for some reason the housekeeper disapproved of her. At one time she caught a speculative look in her eyes and wondered for a moment if by any chance she had guessed she was not what she seemed.

"She is probably merely anxious to see that I am not imposing myself on Carleton," Frances concluded reassuringly. "Which of course, I am!" she admitted with a wry smile. There was a comfortable deep leather armchair in the library and she curled up cosily in it with a pile of books at her elbow. Carleton found her there on his return. Frances immediately stretched her legs out in a more masculine pose, then sat forward, her arms on her knees.

"Hullo, what are you reading?"

Frances smiled up at him, "I am looking through some local histories." She paused and said consideringly, "You may be able to help me more though. Do you know anything about a Lady Julia Murray?"

He frowned, "Murray? No I don't think so... wait a minute, I believe there is an older lady of that name living in London, but I think her Christian name is Anna. Would she be the one? It is coming back to me now ... I remember there was a daughter, or perhaps two, but I am fairly sure she died some years ago. Maddy might know more, shall I ask her?"

A disappointed expression came over Frances face as he spoke and she chewed her lip. "I do wish he had told me more!" she murmured to herself.

Carleton looked at her inquiringly.

"I am sorry, my lord, it is merely that my father told me to seek out Lady Julia Murray when I reached London, but I have no idea who she is or what he expected to come of it! It is very puzzling."

Carleton pulled up another chair and asked her to tell him her father's exact words. She did so and he agreed that it was certainly not much to go on. "Perhaps she is some sort of relation?" he queried. "That would seem to be the most likely reason he would ask you to find her."

"I hardly think so, after all my father never mentioned her before then. As I told you, I don't know which of the names he used was his own, if any, but I am sure he never used Murray." She answered doubtfully.

"What was your mother's maiden name, do you know?" pursued Carleton.

"Emerson I think."

He frowned, "That is not familiar to me either. Shall I ask Maddy to join us?"

"Yes, if she would."

Carleton went off to find her and returned in a few minutes, Mrs Madden puffing slightly at his heels. "Have a seat, Maddy, I would like to ask you something. A glass of sherry?"

The housekeeper was soon settled comfortably on a chair in front of the fire and Carleton asked "I was wondering if you knew anything about a Lady Julia Murray or her family?"

"Julia Murray?" repeated the housekeeper, narrowing her eyes in concentration. "Let me see. She married Sir Thomas Pointon, rather late in life I believe, but she died in that boating accident in the Channel about three or four years ago now. She had a younger sister I remember, there was some sort of scandal connected with her a long time ago - I fancy she died abroad somewhere. There is only the mother left now to my knowledge, Lady Anna. What is your interest in the family, my lord?"

"Not me, 'tis Peter," he explained. "It appears he has some connection with the family but we are not sure exactly what."

Maddy raised her eyebrows and looked at her doubtfully.

"Thank you for your help, Mrs Madden, perhaps I will call on Lady Murray when I return to London," said Frances, not wanting to tell her the whole story.

"Yes, and I can make some enquiries for you as well," agreed Carleton.

At that point, the footman arrived to announce that dinner was ready. Both of them did full justice to the dishes prepared for them. The food was plentiful but fairly plain, his lordship not having gone to the trouble of bringing his French chef with him from London. Frances entertained him with some stories from her life in Florence and he returned with some of the livelier anecdotes circulating the London drawing rooms.

They opened a second bottle of claret between them and enjoyed themselves thoroughly. If sometimes the glances Carleton bestowed on his companion were a little warmer than those to be expected for such a recent acquaintance, he was not aware of it, and the footman put it down to him being a little merry, not foxed exactly but certainly on the go. Eventually, the remains were cleared away and the port brought out.

"Shall we play cards tonight?" invited Carleton, sitting back in his chair.

"By all means, as long as we play no more than a penny a point," answered Frances.

They took their glasses into the study where there was a warm fire burning merrily in the grate, and Carleton passed a pack of unopened cards across to Frances. She shuffled them professionally. "Whist, sir?"

Carleton nodded. They both played cautiously at first, taking each other's measure. The luck ran with Carleton at first, but even so Frances could see that he was a skilful player. "I would need to keep a clear head if ever we should have a serious game, my lord!"

He laughed and continued to win points, "Would you like another drink? Some brandy perhaps?"

"No thank you, I have had quite enough! Could I have some coffee instead?"

"That's a good idea, I could do with some myself."

By the time the footman had brought the coffee and it had been drunk, Carleton had won five shillings and Frances conceded him the winner.

"If you do not mind, my lord, I will retire for the night. It has been a long day," she added.

"Yes indeed, I feel as if I had been burning the candle at both ends myself." Carleton followed her upstairs and paused at her door.

"Good night, Frances," he said unthinkingly as he opened the door for her.

"Do not call me that, my lord, whatever you do," she whispered urgently. "Someone may overhear you and we will both be in the suds! Just think of me as Peter, nothing else."

Carleton looked at her, seeing her as 'male' again and felt suddenly uncomfortable. Not only was he beginning to grow accustomed to her short curls and breeches, but if truth be told he found them very attractive.

"You are right! I will see you tomorrow, then," He nodded curtly and moved swiftly to his own room.

Three more days passed, filled with riding, long walks and interspersed with meals and conversation. They played cards in the evening for small sums and laughed a lot. Frances continued to practice her shooting when Carleton was involved in the business of the estate and also to delve into the local history books which she found fascinating. Occasionally she found Mrs Madden studying her with a curious eye and she would make an extra effort to do something boyish such as cracking a walnut in her hand or skinning the rabbit she had shot.

Meanwhile Squire Herbert was wrestling with a dilemma. Such a shocking thing had occurred that he would not have believed it if he had not seen it with his own eyes. He was very worried. He valued his own standing in the neighbourhood as a respectable man, who others could look up to as an example, but he was also old fashioned, with a deeply inbred awe of those he considered his betters. The two qualities warred within him until he reached a reluctant decision. He would seek a meeting with Lord Carleton the very next morning.