Isobel slowed her pace as she approached her home. She had no wish to explain why she’d felt the need to run like a hoyden across the fields. She slipped inside, using the side door as usual, and returned to her apartment without being waylaid by her parents or any of her younger siblings.

Mary, who had been taking care of her since she left the schoolroom, threw up her hands in horror. “Lawks a mussey! Whatever next! You look like a vagabond, my lady. Did you take a tumble?”

“Something like that; an extremely unpleasant and overbearing gentleman attempted to run me down. It was a miracle I didn’t meet my Maker at his hands.” Laughing at her maid’s expression, Isobel kicked off her clogs and untied the bow holding her cloak in place. “But he got his comeuppance. He fell into the ditch twice and quite ruined his smart clothes.”

Her abigail clucked and tutted as she removed the soiled garments, Isobel allowed her mind to wander at the unexpected encounter. Who could this gentleman be? From his demeanour and appearance she was sure he was a wealthy man, someone used to giving orders. An unexpected frisson rippled down her spine as she recalled the breadth of his shoulders, the length of his legs and the feel of his hands as they travelled up and down her body.

He was a handsome man, but too autocratic and quick tempered for her taste. He must have a box somewhere and have come down to shoot; perhaps she might make discreet enquiries from their own gamekeeper. Evans was bound to know who owned a property of this sort in the neighbourhood.