Catherine was still fuming when she arrived home at Castle Forbes, an old-fashioned edifice that she had struggled to make comfortable. The carriage rattled under the arched gate and around into the cobbled yard. The stables had not been salvagable, so she had torn them two three years ago and rebuilt them. The new ones were modern and easy to maintain, but the grooms still complained about how she was distroying the character of the place.
Character? Catherine sniffed as she climbed down from the carriage, leaning on the driver's arm. Character was all very well and picturesque when it was somewhere you went to visit, but she would not tolerate it in her home. A woman had a right to a degree of comfort.
And she was not having her horses getting injured because they had put a foot through a hole in the rotting floorboards of the old mews.
“I thought the leader was favouring his left fore on the way home. Trot him out along the driveway to make sure he is sound before you brush him down and water him.”
The groom touched his finger to his forelock. “Aye, m'lady, I'll do that.” But Catherine caught the subtle edge of resentment in his voice. Why was it that men refused to admit that a woman sometimes knew better?
The fury which had filled her earlier returned in full force. How dare that man turn her out of his house like that? She had gone there with legitimate concerns for him and his children, and a genuine offer to help him sort out his problems, and he had thrown it back at her. How dare he?
She took a deep breath. There was no point allowing herself to be riled by him. He was not her concern, he wasn't even her tenant. He was just a neigbour.
Her steps slowed as she approached the side door of the castle, and she remembered the fleeting impression of strength as he had stood over her. He was definitely a change from her other neighbours and she had no doubt that the silly young girls in the area would be sighing and casting their caps in his direction.
She was just thankful she was beyond all that.
In the orderly bustle of the castle, she took off her hat and cloak, and handed them to a curtsying maid. The footman was given her umbrella and instructed to see that tea was brought to the library in half an hour. She was unaccountably thirsty.
“Pray tell Mr Magee that I require his presence,” she said.
The library was her favourite room in the castle, where an intricately patterned tropical wood floor was surrounded by tall shelves of books. Catherine had installed a ladder on a railing to allow her to access the upper shelves which was absolutely not for energetic nephews to ride on when they visited. She frequently took refuge there when the demands of her household became too much.
