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reasonable enough, and she meant to keep it.
    “Tell me about our new neighbour,” she said. “The new owner of Bucksfoot.”
    “I don’t know anything about him,” Susan began, realizing even as she made the statement that it wasn’t strictly true, but how was she to tell Evelyn that Elliott’s was likely to survive while they went under? “He’s something of an enigma, I should say, coming all the way from New Zealand to start again here, in Scotland.”
    Evelyn glanced up with an odd expression in her eyes.
    “When did you first meet him?" she enquired.
    “Two days ago, riding over the moor. He was trying out Bucksfoot and he came down from Hunter’s Crags as if he hadn’t a moment to spare. He crossed the road right in front of me and I had to pull up or drive straight into him. Of course/’ Susan added, “he thought it was my place to give way. He had that sort of look about him.”
    “You don’t really like him, do you?” Evelyn mused.
    “Arrogant men tend to repel me!”
    Evelyn smiled.
    “But he could ride,” she suggested.
    “Yes—I suppose so. Bucksfoot isn’t an easy horse to control, even when you know all his vicious little tricks. Oh—!”
    Susan was looking straight across the room and her gasp of surprise was not entirely lost on her stepmother as Evelyn’s gaze followed hers to the tall figure standing in the doorway. He was the sort of man who would attract attention anywhere, and the word Susan had just used lingered in Evelyn’s mind. Arrogant-looking men had always intrigued her, and when he came straight across to their table she smiled on him automatically. Susan was forced to introduce them.
    “I’ve just been telling my stepmother that you bought Bucksfoot the other day.” She couldn’t bring herself to mention Hope’s Star. “Evelyn, this is Maxwell Elliott. He’s come to live at Fetterburn Carse.”
    Her stepmother gave Maxwell Elliott a steady, probing look as she held out her hand to him.
    “Welcome to the Borders,” she said gaily. “I hope you will be very happy at the Carse, Mr. Elliott. It's a lovely old house. Almost as nice as Denham,” she added with a twinkle. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to confess that I liked it equally well, would it?” she challenged.
    “Not if your loyalty is in the true Denham tradition,”
    he agreed, returning the warmth of her handclasp. “I’ve come up against Border loyalty on more than one occasion recently,” he added deliberately as he glanced in Susan’s direction, “but I may learn to live with it in time.”
    “Which means that you intend to stay in Scotland?” Evelyn asked.
    “I’ve come to work at Fetterburn,” he said briefly. “I’ve taken over the family business.”
    “Won’t you sit down?” Evelyn asked, obviously finding him agreeable. “There isn’t another vacant table, and we’ve just finished. You’d better hold on to this one.”
    “Thank you.”
    He lowered himself into the vacant chair beside her, long legs stretched out comfortably before him, capable hands clasped loosely between his knees. A man completely without inhibitions. An arrogant man, Susan thought once more.
    “How long have you been in Scotland?” Evelyn asked conversationally. “Susan thought you had just arrived.”
    “I’ve been to the Carse several times in the past three years,” he explained as the waiter brought an extra cup and saucer and some fresh tea. “But never to stay for any length of time. I was interested in the mill, though, and my great-uncle liked the idea of an Elliott taking over when he was ready to go.”
    Which suggested that he hadn’t bought himself into Elliott’s, after all, but had inherited it because Nathan Elliott had remained a bachelor and had no son of his own. Susan bit her lip. Their situations were almost the same, only Elliott’s was destined to survive as a family business while Denham’s would be lost if Evelyn meant to have her way and sell out or merge