There were great woods rising on undulating land and there were exquisite views over meadows filled with the flowers of spring.
Yellow buttercups, forget-me-nots and cuckoo pint all made the fields that they were riding through a glorious picture of nature at its finest.
It was even more beautiful to Odela than any of the famous pictures that she had seen in the Galleries of Florence.
“I am home! I am home!” she wanted to cry to the birds, the butterflies and the bees that hovered over the flowers.
Then she remembered that her real home was Shalford Hall.
But if she stayed at The Hall her stepmother would be waiting to carry her off to London and the dreadful Viscount.
It was a thought that made her shiver and she was silent for the last miles before they reached Coombe Court.
When
