Bobby was trying to scare her for some stupid reason of his own. She would think no more about his warning.
Leaving Nanny, Ravina felt a frisson of excitement, but when she entered the drawing room, she found Sir Richard and Dulcie deep in conversation.
Ravina was unaware of the gleam of appreciation in Sir Richard's eyes as he looked at his young hostess, although she was aware that Dulcie, wearing a neat sensible dress in green, had raised her eyebrows at her cousin's bare shoulders.
“Good evening, Lady Ravina. I trust you had an interesting day at the Priory?”
“Good evening, Sir Richard. Yes, indeed. It is a fascinating old house and Sir Michael has been most fastidious in his restoration work. And did your day go as planned? I trust your horse is now fully recovered.”
“Ravina! You sound as if you are keen for Sir Richard to leave us,” Dulcie said sharply.
Ravina felt the colour rush into her cheeks but Sir Richard just laughed.
“I am sure Lady Ravina has been far too busy today to give my absence a second thought. But I know you will be pleased to hear that my stallion is now back to his old self and I shall be taking my leave of you very soon.”
Ravina made automatic remarks of sorrow, but inside her head, her thoughts were whirling.
He was leaving and there was no reason why they should ever meet again.
Gibbs announced that dinner was served and the three of them made their way into the dining room.
He had lit candles on the table and Ravina was aware that Sir Richard was watching her across the dancing flames as she toyed with her soup and pushed the roast chicken around her plate.
Conversation over the meal was polite and bland.
When the last dishes had been removed, Ravina led the way into the drawing room where coffee was waiting for them.
But Dulcie shook her head, saying she would never sleep if she drank coffee so late in the day and wishing them both good night, she withdrew.
Gibbs served Sir Richard with a glass of brandy, leaving the two of them alone.
The night had grown chilly and a small fire was crackling in the grate.
“Your appetite seemed poor this evening, Lady Ravina,” Sir Richard commented, warming the bowl of his brandy glass between his hands. “I hope you have not overexerted yourself today. Inspecting houses that are in a state of disrepair can be tiring.”
Ravina scowled.
“The majority of the building work has long been finished at the Priory,” she said. “Sir Michael did not show me any area that was unsafe. It is the adornment and furnishing of the house that are his next requirements.”
“And do you feel your tastes and Sir Michael's are similar?” he asked, gazing into the dancing flames.
“That is a very odd question, sir. Do you feel that one person's view of beauty differs from another's?”
“Yes, I do,” he replied calmly. “Indeed, I have no doubts that my ideas of what would make a home beautiful would be far removed from Sir Michael's.”
Ravina felt a flash of annoyance.
She pushed aside the memory of her distaste at the overpowering and old-fashioned atmosphere that Sir Michael was already introducing into the Priory.
“I suppose we learn first from our parents what they consider tasteful and beautiful and add our own opinions as we grow older,” she said.
Sir Richard took a sip of brandy.
“I must admit that having met your father, I can only imagine that his ideas would be beyond reproach.”
“That was in Greece, was it not?” Ravina asked. “Where you met?”
There was a silence for a couple of heartbeats, before Sir Richard said,
“Yes, I was there on business and happened to make your father's acquaintance. That was when he mentioned that Dorset would be a good area to look for a small estate when I returned to England.”
Ravina nodded and sipped her coffee.
“And with that in mind, Lady Ravina, I have managed to cross the infamous Stanton Grange from my list today. As you rightly said, the place is far too damp and dark for my liking.
“So would you care to accompany me tomorrow on a little trip. I plan to visit Charlford to inspect a house I have high hopes will prove suitable to purchase.”
Ravina looked up, startled.
“Oh, well, I should spend some time here, checking on the horses and the tenants.”
“Surely you can spare one more day from your busy schedule?”
Sir Richard's dark eyes gleamed in the firelight and Ravina had the odd feeling that he was laughing at her.
“I would appreciate your opinion, especially as I plan to breed horses there and I am sure you have a great knowledge of what suits animals in these Southern counties.”
Ravina hesitated.
“Of course, if Sir Michael has a prior claim on your presence and if you are already promised to visit the Priory once more, then â ”
“No, certainly not!” Ravina interrupted crossly. “My time is my own. I would be delighted to accompany you. Do you intend to ride?”
“If we go over the hills, it will prove a fairly short journey and will be a useful workout for my horse. Then, the day after, if you would not mind my staying an extra day, I will take my leave of you and Miss Allen. I know your cousin will be pleased to bring the house back to its normal routine.”
Ravina muttered some polite platitudes, her feelings a whirl of confusion.
Within a few minutes, she made her excuses and retired.
She spent a restless night, trying to work out why Sir Richard intrigued and annoyed her so much.
She finally decided it was because he had a knack of getting under her skin, of making her feel like a naughty child one moment and then his equal the next.
She knew, for example, that because he had constantly lectured her about riding alone, she would not tell him about Bobby Watson's warning.
Sir Richard did not know the Watson family and so might well think there was some substance in the boy's words, not realising that it was just a story to frighten a member of the Ashley family.
*
By the time the sun had risen above the trees in the orchard, Ravina had washed and dressed in her favourite blue riding habit.
She brushed aside Gibbs's anxious offer of breakfast and stopping only to take an apple from a bowl, she headed for the stables.
Sweetie was being groomed and whickered in delight at the sight of Ravina, knowing she would have sugar lumps in her pocket.
She had inherited her love of horses from her father and knew that for all her enjoyment of the hectic life in London, the parties and fetes, fun and gaiety, she was never happier than in the country among her ponies and horses.
As she turned to go back to the yard, she realised a buckle was loose on her boot and bent to fix it.
Suddenly she realised that there were two grooms in the stall next to her, dealing with Sir Richard's horse.
“Eee, Jacob, this is a fine animal.”
“You're right there, Tom. Best stallion I've seen for many a year.”
“How's his old leg, then?”
There came the distinct noise of Jacob's wheezing laugh.
“Naught wrong with his leg. Never was. Little scratch on the hock, that's all it was. I did be telling Sir Richard that, but he just said, “yes, yes, let's keep him quiet for a couple of days.” None so odd as the aristocracy!”
“Ah, you're right there, Jacob. But we'd better get this beast saddled up. Sir Richard'll be here soon.”
Ravina moved silently down the central passageway out into the cobbled courtyard where all was bustle and noise.
Sweetie was ready for her and she mounted, hardly capable of thanking her groom, her mind was in such a spin.
Sir Richard strode into the yard just as Jacob walked his horse out into the sunlight.
Within seconds he had swung into the saddle and with a brief “good morning' to Ravina, he turned the horse's head and trotted out of the yard.
Automatically, she urged Sweetie forward and followed him.
She still could not believe what she had overheard. There had been nothing wrong with the grey stallion! It was all lies.
But why? What purpose had been achieved by his staying at Curbishley Hall for a few days?
She remembered the way she had met him at the ball in London and the very odd encounter at the hotel on the way to Dorset.
Was he following her?
A cold chill ran across her body. Could it be that he was
not
the English gentleman he said he was?
She knew her father kept all sorts of secrets and private papers in his study. Had this Sir Richard wanted access to the house to spy, explore, discover?
She stared at his broad back as they trotted swiftly down the drive and turned onto a path that led into the hills.
A spy? No, she could never believe that. Whatever this man was, he was surely honest. There must be some other explanation.
Then she recalled Bobby's words. She had been alone in the woods with Sir Richard.
Was that the danger Bobby had meant?
The track up the steep hillside was too narrow to ride two abreast. Sir Richard rode on first, occasionally shouting back comments about the state of the path, holding back a bramble with his whip, or advising on a different direction for her to follow as Sweetie's hooves slipped on the chalky ground.
They crested the ridge and reined to a halt, gazing down at the sweeping slopes that ran green and gold towards the sea, which was a kaleidoscope of blue and green and turquoise as the wind skimmed the surface.
Ravina felt the salt wind bringing colour into her face and laughed with the sheer delight of being out on such a glorious day.
A lark was singing unseen high in the sky above them and Sweetie bent her head to crop the turf studded with tiny blue and yellow flowers.
Sir Richard turned in his saddle and smiled at Ravina.
He thought he had never seen anything as beautiful as she looked at that moment. Her gold curls in tangles, her eyes bright and shining, a smattering of freckles across her nose.
“What a wonderful place England is on a day such as today,” she exulted. “How beautiful the sea appears from up here. So smooth and peaceful. I love Curbishley Hall with all my heart, but sometimes I wish Papa had a home right on the beach.”
Sir Richard stood in his stirrups and pointed with his riding crop to where a fold in the hills sheltered a honey-stoned mansion whose gardens ran down to the cliff top.
“That is our destination, Lady Ravina. Mitcham Manor. It stands empty as its owner recently emigrated to the New World where he has large estates â in Carolina, I believe.”
“You are thinking of purchasing it?” Ravina asked as they walked the horses towards the house.
“Indeed so. As you can see, it has very fine stabling and ample pasture for the animals I intend to breed. And that long stretch of sandy beach where I will be able to exercise them every day.”
Ravina fell silent. Surely a spy would not be planning on buying a home such as this and planning a life when he would need to be on hand all the time to oversee such an ambitious undertaking?
“Can we see inside the Manor?” she asked as they trotted through a wide entrance between two stone pillars and along the soft turf by the drive.
Sir Richard nodded.
“Yes, indeed. I understand the rooms are large and airy with magnificent views of the sea from all the upstairs apartments. And I would be glad of your opinion. Obviously it is not as old as the Priory, but perhaps you will find some parts of it agreeable.”
Ravina cast him a surprised glance. For a second, Sir Richard's voice had sounded almost sarcastic.
She supposed he was about to lecture her again on the suitability of her friendship with Sir Michael. Well, she would
not
listen. She would choose her own friends, as she had always done.
They had arrived at the bottom of the fine double stone stairway that led to the front door.
Ravina began to dismount, only to find Sir Richard was on hand to help.
For a second she was all too aware of how close they were standing, his grip on her arms, the way his shirt clung to his body under his jacket.
She knew if she raised her eyes, she would find that her face was only inches from his and she felt her heart give a slight quiver at the thought.
She could feel his breath warm on her cheek before they parted as her riding boots touched the ground.
Sir Richard did not speak, but produced a large key and swung open the front door.
Ravina followed him into a hallway that was beautifully proportioned, with a double staircase mirroring the steps outside, rising in graceful curves to the balcony above.
Ravina exclaimed with delight as they moved from room to room, her admiration growing with every minute.
The manor house was indeed lovely. A warm welcoming home with rooms that were big enough to entertain in, but not so large that a family might feel lost in their vastness.
Upstairs was a selection of bedrooms, all individual in size and shape, good servants' quarters and a marvellous nursery wing with an old piebald rocking horse still in proud possession of the schoolroom.
“How sad. They have quite forgotten to take Dobbin with them,” Ravina cried, smoothing back the wiry hair from his wooden painted head.
“I expect the children grew up and decided he was too big to ship out to America,” Sir Richard commented.
“So, Lady Ravina, do you like the Manor? Do you think that with a little decoration and suitable furniture it would make me a comfortable home?”
Ravina walked across to the barred nursery window and stared out across the gardens and orchards to where she could just see the edge of the cliff that protected the house from the sea.
“Indeed, Sir Richard, I think the Manor would make a lovely home, but even with servants, you might find it a little large living here on your own.”
He placed his hand on the rocking horse and gave it a gentle push, watching the curved runners making little marks on the dusty floor.