can,’ I said confidently, remembering now why I’d wanted the element of surprise. I’d quite forgotten. I straightened up in the saddle. ‘Don’t forget I grew up with horses, Angie. You remember my dad, don’t you?’
‘Of course.’ She smiled down, seeing him for the first time. Dad raised his flat cap. ‘Hello, Mr Mortimer. I imagine you were in on this, then?’
‘Peter,’ he told her with a grin. ‘Yes, all the way. And Poppy’s quite right, she did grow up with them, but very much in the proximate sense. They were in the paddock and she was in the house doing her mascara. She took a great deal of interest from the window.’
‘Dad,’ I protested as they both roared with laughter. But worryingly, he had a point. Although I’d ridden as a child, as a teenager I’d been a bit more interested in Cosmo than Horse and Hound. Had I bitten off more than I could chew? Hands fluttering, I gratefully accepted a glass of port from a girl proffering a tray.
‘Have you had one?’ I asked Angie.
‘Oh God, yes, three. Always do. Makes it less painful if I come off.’
‘We’re coming off?’ I said alarmed.
‘Well, not necessarily, but who knows? Depends where we go. But you stick with me, Poppy. There are a lot of idiots out today, always are at the opening meet, and those are the ones who do the damage. Cut you up at fences, refuse slap bang in front of you. And hold on tight. I don’t want to be playing nursemaid when I’ve got other fish to fry.’ Her eyes darted around. ‘Have you spotted him yet?’
‘Who?’
‘The new master.’
‘Why would I? I don’t know what he looks like.’ She wasn’t to know I had my own fish to fry.
‘Well, he’s obviously going to be in pink, isn’t he? There – on the chestnut.’
I’d been busily scanning the broad-shouldered black coats for Sam, and was unprepared, therefore, for the man in pink, the one she indicated, to lift his hat as he greeted a friend, present his chiselled profile, and for it to be one and the same.
I stared for a long moment. ‘Sam Hetherington’s the new master?’
‘Yes.’ Angie turned, surprised. ‘You know him?’
‘He’s my solicitor.’
‘Is he?’ She looked astonished. ‘Oh yes, someone said he was a lawyer. Good God – you never said!’ She rounded on me accusingly.
‘Well, I didn’t know you knew him, did I?’
She gazed at me; blinked. ‘I suppose I don’t, yet,’ she admitted. ‘I will, though. He’s gorgeous, don’t you think? All mine, by the way,’ she added quickly and not for the first time. ‘I’m landing this one. He’s divorced, apparently, and this is his manor house, and very soon I’ll be installed within, doing up the drawing room. If you’re very lucky I’ll ask you to dinner.’
God, she had had a few drinks, but so had I, and I opened my mouth to remind her that, actually, she hadn’t seen him first, I had; perhaps adding haughtily that I wouldn’t dream of getting into a fight over a man, but anything I might or might not have said was forestalled by Sam himself.
‘Can I have your attention please, ladies and gentlemen!’
A deferential hush fell instantly. He was standing up in his stirrups, smiling around in a convivial manner. I gulped. Golly. Quite commanding. As he swept his hat gallantly from his head – no strap – to reveal his springy curls, he looked sensational. I’d forgotten about that heart-stopping smile, the crinkly eyes. Angie and I gazed rapturously as he went on to welcome everybody, thanking the local landowners and farmers for letting us ride across their fields – his, mostly, which with perfect manners he declined to mention – reminding us about gates and crops, cattle, oh, and the forthcoming hunt ball. He ended by adding that he hoped we all had a jolly good day. He looked like a young King Henry on St Crispin’s Day, rallying his troops, wind in his hair, hat under his arm. As he smiled, I swear a ray of sunlight glinted on a pearly tooth.
No time to bask in it, though, because suddenly I was jolted from my reverie by a loud blast on a hunting horn and Thumper and I were shoved unceremoniously out of the way by the huntsman and whipper-in, hounds at their heels, as they set off down the drive towards open country. The rest of the field bustled about importantly, waiting to be led by