CHAPTER TEN
“And you are sure it was Sir Walter you saw, Lady Rosanna?” Lord Melton queried as he and Rosanna walked across the courtyard at the rear of Donnington Hall to inspect the racehorses who were standing in their stalls, being readied for exercise.
Twenty or more heads turned at their approach – black and grey, chestnut and bay, dark eyes questioning, ears pricked and alert.
Lord Melton had asked the same question earlier as the carriage had thundered up the driveway, the horses straining every sinew under John Barker’s shouted commands.
But in all the fuss of their arrival – Bates’s delight at Rosanna’s return and the household’s confusion at Lord Melton being her guest, it had been difficult to have a proper conversation.
Rosanna had been shaking from their encounter with t
