In the Land of the Long White Cloud

whistle, the young dogs herded the sheep through the obstacle course without incident. Gwyneira’s elegant party dress, a dream in sky-blue silk with gold-colored eyelet appliqué, remained clean, and Cleo too merely followed the show from the sidelines, whimpering as though insulted. Her whelps had finally been weaned, and the little dog was looking for new tasks. Today, however, she had been exiled to the stables again. Lucas did not want any dogs capering about, and Gwyneira was occupied with entertaining the guests—though her strolls among the guests and chats with the ladies of Christchurch increasingly resembled a gauntlet. She felt people’s eyes on her as the guests observed her still slender figure with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. Early on she heard only a few comments, but then the gentlemen—Gerald above all—started knocking back the whiskey, which rapidly loosened their tongues.
    “Well, my lady, you’ve been married almost a year now,” intoned Lord Barrington. “How long until there are little ones?”
    Gwyneira did not know how to reply. She blushed as deeply as the viscount, whose father’s behavior embarrassed him too. He changed the subject, asking Gwyneira about Igraine and Madoc, whom he still remembered fondly. He had yet to find comparable horses in this new homeland of theirs. Gwyneira came alive at once. The breeding of the horses had been successful, and she would be happy to sell young Barrington a foal. She seized the opportunity to escape Lord Barrington by leading the viscount over to the pasture. A month before, Igraine had given birth to a black colt as pretty as a picture, and Gerald had put the horses’ pen close enough to the house for the guests to marvel at them.
    Next to the paddock where the mare and foal were grazing, James McKenzie was overseeing the preparations for the help’s party. The employees of Kiward Station still had work to do, but when the meal was over and the dancing had started, they could then have their fun. Gerald had been happy to provide two sheep and plenty of beer andwhiskey for their party, and the fire for cooking the meat was just being lit.
    James greeted Gwyneira and the viscount, and she used the opportunity to congratulate him on his successful presentation.
    “I believe Mr. Warden sold five dogs today,” she said in recognition.
    James returned her smile. “Still not to be compared to the show with your Cleo, miss. But naturally, I miss the charms of the dog’s mistress too.”
    Gwyneira turned her gaze away. His eyes once again sparkled in that way that she found simultaneously so delightful and unsettling. And why was he paying her compliments in front of the viscount? She entertained an apprehension that it wasn’t very proper.
    “Try wearing a wedding dress next time,” Gwyneira said to draw out the humor in the situation.
    The viscount chuckled. “Why, he’s in love with you, my lady.” He giggled, with all the insolence of his fifteen years. “Watch out that your husband doesn’t challenge him to a duel.”
    Gwyneira cast a chastising look at the boy. “Don’t say such nonsense, viscount! You yourself know how quickly gossip spreads here. If a rumor like that were to come out…”
    “Not to worry, your secret is safe with me!” The rascal laughed. “By the way, did you ever cut a slit into your riding dress?”

    Gwyneira was happy when the dancing finally began, releasing her from the obligations of conversation. Perfectly led as always, she floated with Lucas across the dance floor that had been specially set up in the garden. The musicians, hired by Lucas this time, were a good deal better than those who had played at their wedding. The dance selection was more conventional. Gwyneira was almost a bit envious when she heard the happy ditties wafting over from the employees’ party. Someone was fiddling over there—not always perfectly, it was true, but with no lack of spirit.
    Gwyneira danced with the most important guests, one after the other. She was spared Gerald, at least, who had long since drunk too much to hold himself upright for a waltz. The party was a complete success, but Gwyneira nevertheless hoped it would soon be over. It had been a long day, and the guests would have to be entertained again from morning until at least noon the following day. Many of them planned to stay beyond that, until the day after next. Still, Gwyneira had to stay through the fireworks before she could retire.