of the outhouses uncovered a good supply of logs and a little coal, so he was able to build up a cheerful fire, which he left burning while he rode off to dine with his mother. He reached the Castonbury stables just as another rider was dismounting from a huge black horse. Adam recognised the tall, dark-haired figure immediately as Giles Montague and touched his hat.
‘Your servant, my lord.’
Giles scowled up at him.
‘Mighty formal all of a sudden, Stratton. That’s not the form of address I expect from a man I’ve known all my life!’
Adam grinned, reassured by the other’s curt greeting. He slid easily to the ground and handed Bosun’s reins to a waiting stable boy.
‘I was not certain of my reception.’
‘Quite right,’ said Giles, the gleam in his grey eyes belying his scowl. ‘Ten years without a word to anyone. You should be flogged!’
‘I agree with you, and I beg your pardon,’ said Adam, as they walked out of the yard together. ‘I should have kept in touch.’
‘That is nothing to me, I have never been one for letter-writing either, but I know your mother felt your loss deeply. Are you here to visit her?’
‘Yes, I am joining her for dinner.’
‘Hah! The prodigal returns so the fatted calf must be slaughtered, am I right?’
‘No, no, it is merely mutton stew, I believe,’ returned Adam mildly.
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