make sure that Farrell still followed; though he lagged behind on his ancient hack, he kept them within sight. By the time she had caught up with Georgia, her errant sister had dismounted and was happily engaged in building a snowman with Felix Westfaling. Sasha drew rein, breathing hard, her horse snorting and pawing the ground, and she gazed at Georgia with exasperation.
‘Your skirts are getting all wet,’ she called out, ‘and where’s your hat?’
Georgia laughed, her face glowing in the cold air and beautiful against the virgin white background of the snow, ‘Come and help us, Sasha!’
Felix straightened up from patting lumps of snow into the shape of an arm, scooped up a ball of snow in the palm of his hand, and tossed it in Sasha’s direction. ‘Good morning, Sash, do join us, got to get this finished before it starts to melt.’
Her horse leapt and shied to one side as the snowball splashed on the path, but Sasha kept her seat and replied, ‘No, I will not. Georgia, please, do put your hat on and mount up.’
Her sister laughed, whirling away as she and Felix pelted each other with snowballs. With a sigh Sasha glanced at Farrell as he sidled up. He merely shrugged and grinned while she looked in both directions to see if they had been observed. There was no one about, except a lone horseman in the distance. What harm would it do? And it did look like such fun. She handed her reins to Farrell and jumped down, her boots crunching through the thick, powdery snow as she walked over to the snowman.
‘I say, Sasha, how would you like a toboggan race? A whole bunch of us are meeting over at Birch Hill this afternoon.’ Felix was wise to the fact that if he could persuade one sister, then the other would follow.
‘I would not like it at all,’ Sasha replied tartly, surveying the round ball he was rolling together to make the snowman’s head, and then she gasped as a cold wet lump of snow hit her on the shoulder. ‘Georgia!’
With cries threatening revenge, she leaned down and made her own ammunition, and the three of them were soon lobbing snowballs, ducking and rolling in the snow amidst shrieks of laughter.
‘Good morning, Miss Packard.’
A deep, masculine, familiar voice echoed from behind her. They froze, Georgia and Sasha both turning to stare wideeyed at the horseman who had halted nearby. Sasha’s already flushed face deepened in colour as she recognised Captain Bowen. She dropped the half-made snowball in her hands, straightened her jacket and looked up to reply, ‘Good morning, Captain Bowen.’
‘Marvellous day.’ He waved his riding crop about at the park in general.
‘Yes, it is.’
From the corner of her eye she spied Felix and Georgia slinking behind the bulk of the snowman, leaving her to deal with the Captain on her own. Like Georgia, she had removed her hat and veil, and her cravat flapped all askew.
‘That’s a fine-looking snowman—need any help?’
‘Um, er—’ She heard a snort of suppressed giggles as her accomplices ducked. But, undeterred, the Captain had swung down from his horse and was striding towards them. Her heart sank. She must look a sight, she feared, brushing with the back of her hand at the escaped and messy tendrils of hair curling about her face, and the smudge of snow on her nose.
‘Miss Packard,’ he greeted Georgia as belatedly, and unavoidably, she straightened. ‘And young Felix, is it not?’
‘How do you do, sir?’ Felix flushed and brushed at his coat. ‘We were just—’
‘Just about to go,’ Sasha interjected, reaching to pick up her hat and pass Georgia her own.
‘Don’t rush away on my account. Please.’
Captain Bowen turned to look at Sasha, and she was struck again by the blueness of his eyes and how very good looking he was, his sun-bleached hair gleaming gold in the winter sunshine. She could not help but glance at his mouth, the welldisciplined line of the upper lip complimented by the slightly fuller lower, curving into an attractive smile. His shoulders seemed very broad and masculine, and his legs in beige jodhpurs left her in no doubt that he was a well-made man.
Georgia was not one to let her natural effervescence be dampened and, undeterred by the new arrival on the scene, she and Felix resumed their building of the snowman.
‘We need some twigs for his hands,’ Georgia said, looking about.
‘There’s a hawthorn bush over there,’ Captain Bowen pointed out.
Being the nearest to it, Sasha set off and trudged through the drifts of snow to a nearby flower bed, reaching out to grasp a twig and snap it off. But it was resistant to her efforts and she struggled, leaning forwards and tugging with both hands, trying to avoid the adjacent prickly holly bush, and then she gave a little cry as her feet slipped and she lost her balance. She teetered, but before she fell two hands fastened on her waist and pulled her back against the solid bulk of a very male and warm body.
‘Steady on, Miss Packard.’ Captain Bowen laughed. ‘Can’t have you falling into the holly and getting scratched now, can we?’
Sasha blushed, but it was hardly noticeable as her face was already so flushed from the cold and the exertions of the snowball fights.
‘Try that one over there,’ called Georgia with subtle cunning, as she directed her sister and Captain Bowen further away. ‘We need some big pieces and that bush is too small.’
‘Oh, Georgia! We really should be going,’ objected Sasha.
‘Go on!’ her sister urged, casting a glance at Felix. ‘And find two pebbles for his eyes.’
With a sigh and an apologetic glance up at Captain Bowen, Sasha turned and walked away, round the corner of the flower bed, her eyes searching for anything suitable. As soon as they were out of sight, Felix and Georgia fell into each other’s arms, the groom holding the horses discreetly looking in the other direction.
‘Here we are, this will do. Captain Bowen—’ Sasha turned to him ‘—would you be so kind? I can’t quite reach.’
‘Of course.’
He reached up and effortlessly snapped off two long twigs, while Sasha knelt and picked out some small dark stones from the flower bed. She tried to think of some polite conversation to say to him, but nothing came to mind.
‘Your father has kindly invited me to dinner on Christmas Eve.’ Captain Bowen took the initiative and spoke first.
‘Oh.’
‘I wondered if you might have any suggestions for a gift I might bring for your parents?’
‘Um,’ Sasha mused, nerves paralysing her thoughts. ‘Well, I’m sure anything will do.’ She glanced anxiously over her shoulder. ‘We really must get back.’ She did not like to mention the fact that she feared what Georgia might be getting up to in her absence and, taking her skirts in both hands, turned about and began to march back to the snowman.
Unfortunately, she was not to know that beneath the snow someone had left a croquet iron; it was against this that her booted foot caught, tripping her up, and she fell headlong and face down into the snow.
‘Miss Packard!’ Captain Bowen hurried to her side and knelt down as she raised herself up, spluttering and gasping. ‘Are you all right?’
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Sasha brushed off the cold wetness clinging to her face, ignored the offer of his helping hand and rose to her feet. ‘I am perfectly all right, thank you.’ Stiffly, she walked on, and called out in a tone much like her father when he would countenance no objection, ‘Georgia, we must be on our way.’
Her sister, having achieved her objective and realising that she had gone as close to the boundaries of propriety as she dared, made no protest, and quietly picked up her hat and set it upon her head as she walked to her horse. Sasha followed suit and, while Farrell assisted Georgia to mount, Captain Bowen offered his linked hands