Wanderford Hall always looked magical in the snow. The drifts that mounded up at the sides of the house grew to almost the height of its young master as the westerly wind forced the flakes against the stone walls. Leaving the house had become almost impossible and Fotherby stared wistfully at the miniature of Miss Simmons, hoping that she would understand the cause of his silence. Indeed, he had written her several letters, but had been forced to add them to the growing pile of papers so that, at the end of February, when the snows began to drain away there were eight letters which he tied together and sent on to his sweetheart.

Miss Simmons had informed him that she had encountered Lord Barrington and his brother, David, on their return to London after Christmas for which Fotherby was greatly pleased. H...

Please subscribe to keep reading.