Ramage was startled by a double cough and looked up to see the lawyer, spectacles now in his hand, looking at him. "We now come to the sections concerning you, My Lord," he said apologetically, clearly having noticed that Ramage's attention had wandered.

"Oh, indeed. Please continue," Ramage said, aware that Sarah was looking at him with an expression combining love and exasperation.

First came the bequests to the staff. A tidy lump sum for Raven, another for the housekeeper, and three more to the cook, gamekeeper and head gardener, "All of whom," the lawyer said as though an explanation was necessary, "had been in Mr Treffry's service for many years."

"And all of whom have been paid regularly since then by my father until I could get back to England and take over the management of the estate," said Ramage, irritated by the lawyer's almost patronizing manner.

"Oh, indeed, My Lord, and in any case I could have arranged a loan on their bequests, using the terms of the will as collateral."

Why is it, Ramage wondered, that just as I begin to think you are not a bad fellow after all, you make some crass remark like that?

The man resumed reading. Treffry Hall and all its furnishings and appurtenances, outbuildings, livestock and contents, and the land comprising the estate, was left to his nephew but (so Uncle Rufus was a realist, since Nicholas Ramage was a serving officer who had nearly been killed several times already) should that nephew predecease him, Rufus Treffry then indicated who should inherit.

Sarah went white, and for a moment Ramage thought she would faint. "But - but ... he met me only once, at our wedding," she gasped. "To leave me all this if I was widowed!"

Ramage laughed to lighten the moment. "I shall make a point of staying alive to cheat you out of your inheritance!"

The lawyer, missing completely the lightness of Ramage's tone and not noticing Sarah's shock (after all, Ramage realized, the man had drawn up the will and the terms were no surprise to him), said: "Well, My Lady, I expect it will all come to you anyway if anything happens to His Lordship."

Sarah, knowing just how many times she had already just missed being widowed since her marriage, and how many times Nicholas had nearly lost his life since she first met him, nodded politely. "I'm sure it will," she said, trying to keep the chill from her voice. "Pray continue."

The lawyer was near the end of the will. Rufus Treffry had obviously been very proud of his collection of armour, and also his sporting guns, and he expressed the hope "though creating no trust in the matter" that his legatee would continue to maintain all the pieces in good condition. "In fact the butler, Raven, has looked after them for many years," the lawyer explained, oblivious to the fact that as a boy Nicholas Ramage had delighted in helping Raven.

Finally the lawyer took another document from his case. "The deeds to the property, My Lord." He searched for another sheet and then handed it over. "That is just a note delineating the boundaries of your land, My Lord. You may wish to ride round the boundaries. I am sure that Raven knows them well."

No better than I, Ramage thought. As a boy, when he was allowed to borrow one of Uncle Rufus's fowling pieces, it was curious how the best game always seemed to be roaming the neighbours' fields. To a lawyer (and to an Uncle Rufus if Ramage was caught) it was poaching, but to a young boy it had been a great adventure. And now Treffry Hall and its estate was all his. His and Sarah's. And at Chatham Dockyard his frigate was being refitted after a long period in the Mediterranean.

Ramage was lounging in an armchair watching Sarah embroidering a cushion cover the following afternoon when Raven tapped on the door and came in with a silver salver, which he offered to Ramage.

Ramage looked at the packet resting in the middle of the salver. It was too thick to be just a newsy letter from his father. He recognized the griffin seal and the handwriting, but it was obviously a packet which also contained other letters.

"This has just arrived, sir," Raven said, and when Ramage had taken the packet he turned to Sarah. "Is there anything your ladyship requires?"

Sarah smiled and held up the embroidery. "I'm almost out of silks," she said.

Raven nodded understandingly. "I'll talk to my friends, madam. A selection of colours?"

Sarah frowned, looking at her work, and then nodded.

"A day or two, milady," Raven said.

By then Ramage had broken the seal of the packet and found that it contained a brief letter from his father and another letter whose cover was closed by a large seal showing a slim woman wearing a crown and standing with an anchor at her feet.

"Who on earth is that from?" Sarah asked as Raven left the room as silently as he had arrived.

"The gentlemen at Lloyd's, from the look of it," Ramage said, breaking the seal. "Don't say some damned shipowner is complaining about that convoy I brought home from Barbados . . . No, the Committee of Lloyd's would have written to Their Lordships, and then the Admiralty would write to me . . ."

"Open it!" Sarah urged. "Why speculate when you're holding the answer in your hand?"

How did he explain? "You've no idea how peaceful it is just sitting here in front of the fire, watching you sewing, and knowing no first lieutenant or master is going to come to me with a problem. And knowing that there are no orders from Their Lordships in the top drawer of my desk which I have to carry out or 'answer to the contrary at my peril'. You want some smuggled silks, Raven wants to take the bay mare down to the farrier, cows have knocked down about four yards of a spile fence on the south side of the beechwood meadow, and the housekeeper wants to know if she should tell Raven to bring up another case of sherry from the cellar. That's all. No strange sail on the horizon, no ship's company to send to general quarters just before dawn, no orders in the drawer ..."

"And a loving wife to share your bed," Sarah said unexpectedly.

"Especially that," Ramage said, breaking the seal of the letter and then deliberately putting it to one side while he read the letter from his father.

"Father and mother send their love . . . Hanson spilled soup over Lady Cardington's dress... oh yes, and the dear lady was so enraged that father sacked Hanson on the spot and re-engaged him as soon as Her Ladyship had left!"

"It sounds to me as though Hanson and your father have an arrangement!"

"Oh, they have," Ramage said. "He's been with us about forty years, and you know how his spectacles keep sliding down his nose? Well, without the spectacles he can't see a thing, and probably as he served the soup his spectacles slipped, so while one hand reached up for the spectacles, the other tilted the soup tureen! Means Lady Cardington never gets invited to dinner again!"

Sarah looked puzzled until Ramage explained. "If she came and found Hanson still in the house, she'd be most upset. As far as father is concerned, Hanson is worth any dozen guests like Lady Cardington!"

"Isn't she the woman with a very deep voice, married to that extraordinary fat Welshman?"

"Yes - he was created about five years ago and she has never got over suddenly becoming a lady without any effort on her part. A bass voice and a falsetto brain - my mother's opinion!"

"And Lloyd's?" Sarah asked as Ramage put down his father's letter. "I think you're scared of it!"

"No, just savouring it. After all, one doesn't want to eat the tastiest thing first."

"I always do," Sarah said firmly. "I can't bear the suspense."

Ramage put the letter down, stood up and walked over to select a thick log before putting it on the fire.

"You've never seen me in a temper yet," Sarah said, "but when I let myself go . . ."