"Have you eaten?" he was asking. "Let us go in search of some tea, shall we?" He held out an arm for hers.

Rachel was glad of the opportunity to break the tension of her own mood. She looked down at her abandoned bonnet and giggled. "I believe I would shock not a few people if I walked back thus," she said. "I do hope the hem of my dress is not wet or covered with grass."

"I shall turn away and admire the water," he said with a grin, "and I expect that while I do so, some power will transform you once again into the very proper Lady Rachel Palmer."

Little more than five minutes later the Reverend David Gower emerged from the trees with an immaculate Lady Rachel on his arm, and they made their way across to the upper lawn, still crowded with guests.

"You said that Lady Wexford believes you unhappy," Rachel said. "Does she think that you will not be contented with your new church?"

He smiled down at her. "She has lived most of her life close to town," he explained. "She cannot imagine anyone choosing to live in the countryside."

"And will you be content there?" she asked. "Will you not find your parish duties tedious? Or do you plan to spend most of your time with Algie and the rest of the gentry?"

"I shall socialize with the gentry," he said carefully, "because they will be my parishioners and as much entitled to my services as anyone else. But I intend to spend most of my time with the poor, since there are far more of them than there are of the wealthy."

"You will not be bored?" she asked, wide-eyed. "Or restless? You will not feel that your education and your talents are being wasted?"