The man nodded, and they moved into the fray together. Hugh grasped the arms of one of the more energetic young bloods. “You’re scaring the ladies,” he hissed into the young man’s ear, as he pulled him away. “For God’s sake calm down or this will turn into a riot.”

The younger man, surprised to see Lord Thatcham, the elusive and celebrated aristocrat, recollected where he was, dropped his fists, and blushed crimson.

“Pull your friends away. You’re making yourselves ridiculous,” Hugh said.

The man hesitated, as though about to argue, but decided he would prefer to obey Lord Thatcham.

The officers, led by the major, exerted a similar calming effect on the other combatants. It took just a few moments to gain control of the mob, for the sight of so many red coats and shining spurs soon overcame them.

As the mill grew quieter, whistles rent the air and half a dozen peelers arrived, targeting the youths and avoiding inconveniencing the gentry as far as possible. The rout ended with a general escape of any who could get away. The ringleaders, including the redheaded lad, too excited to recognise what was happening until too late, were marched off to cool their heels in gaol and await a visit from the magistrates.

Hugh saw that the mob was under control, dusted off his coat, and searched for his hat. His jacket was torn. He touched his lip to find it was bleeding and swelling rapidly. Invigorated, he returned to the barouche where Selena and Lucy giggled excitedly, not at all frightened.

“Lord Thatcham,” breathed Selena’s friend, Lucy. “How very brave you were. Why, we were sure you would be knocked unconscious at any moment.”

Hugh laughed aloud, excitement still pumping through his veins. He had not enjoyed himself so much for weeks. A sudden movement behind the carriage caught his attention. A woman appeared among the trees at the margins of the park, a shawl obscuring her face. She took an uncertain pace forward, as though she would run towards Hugh, but then stopped, hesitated and half-turned to leave.

Hugh’s breath caught in his throat. Waves of hope quickened his pulse. He dropped the reins of the carriage, careless of Selena’s indignant cries and ran forward a dozen paces. Now he was close enough to see the woman clearly. Her shawl slipped back, revealing a face framed by curling black hair. Hugh did not know how long he stood, transfixed, aware of nothing but Philomena’s face.

Selena called to him. Fleet as a startled deer, Philomena turned back into the shadows and was gone.

Selena’s voice, insistent, called Hugh back to the present and a sense of what was proper. “Brother, it seems your manners have quite deserted you,” she cried, retying the pale green ribbon on her becoming pink bonnet. “Lucy and I will take the cold if you do not convey us home, at once.”