Bonus content

A sketch of Sir Tristram

A missing scene from The Talisman Ring

Shield eased himself into the wingback chair, a sketchbook hastily unearthed by Porson, propped upon his knee. ‘Why on earth did Miss Thane lack the ability to draw even a rudimentary sketch?’ he wondered in exasperation. Or, he considered, perhaps she is a perfectly accomplished artist and merely sought yet another opportunity to torment him. It would be entirely in keeping with her character. Regardless, here he sat, a bottle of superior brandy at his elbow and a crisp blank page before him. What manner of drawings would Basil expect to see in the sketchbook of a woman unusually fascinated by architecture? Presumably likenesses of follies or engravings, perhaps a stained glass window. Well, that was quite beyond him. Miss Thane, and Basil, would have to make do with some horses. 

He started with the horse on which he’d learnt to ride, calling to mind a stubbornly placid bay mare who a youthful Shield singularly failed to coax into leaping hedgerows, despite frequent bribes of apples. After an hour or so he fancied he’d caught a little of the truculent character of sturdy Rosie, and turned the page to start anew. This horse he conjured from his imagination, sketching the lines of a forgettable creature standing with a foreleg raised, largely because Shield found he’d drawn it rather short. As he drew, and as the brandy spread a mellow warmth through his bones his mind wandered back to the carefully chaperoned afternoons he had spent with Miss Donald. He would carry her easel and watercolours as if they were his most treasured possessions. Her landscapes were merely pretty but he would happily spend hours watching her graceful hands as she painted. His infatuation with the local beauty seemed alien to him now. He could barely even recall the colour of her eyes or the sound of her laugh. In fact, he struggled to recall her laughing at all. She had little patience for the absurd, although one couldn’t fault her accomplishments, Miss Donald no doubt had numerous sketchbooks at her disposal. But of course, she would not have inveigled herself into a position where such a prop would be necessary!

From here it was only a short step to considering what manner of horse would best suit Miss Thane. A graceful creature of course, lively and strong enough to carry the long-limbed female. A glossy chestnut to complement the rather splendid curls of her rider. Shield could well imagine tossing Sarah into the saddle and riding off for a day in her company, picnicking by a river, perhaps even swimming in the small lake on his estate. ‘What on earth?’ he expostulated, shaking his head to dispel the image and pushing the brandy further away. He looked down to notice the rather misshapen ears he’d just drawn. Well, those ears would reflect on Miss Thane, not him, so they’d damned well stay misshapen. Closing the sketchbook firmly and tucking it under his arm, he took himself to bed determined to draw this mad escapade to a close.