Vincent stood up and stretched out the cramp from his legs. In hindsight he realised he should have brought something out with him to sit on, squatting was obviously something which hunters and poachers became accustomed to, but in his case the spirit was willing but the legs themselves had other ideas.
The sound of a fallen branch being trodden underfoot made Vincent spin round.
He could see the shadow of what appeared to be a woman several feet in front of him.
“Who’s that?” he demanded, levelling his pistol in her direction.
“Your lordship,” came a shaky response. “It’s me, Hetty Stobart. I’ve just returned from visiting relatives in the next town and I’m looking for my husband. I wondered if he might be with you at the hall.”
Vincent felt his heart freeze.
He lowered his pistol s
