‘I am—I—’ Jane stammered, recalling that Lady Hertford had just referred to her husband’s absence. Indeed, he had not been at dinner. Suddenly half-remembered gossip combined with Lady Hertford’s statement that she was a familiar acquaintance of the Prince Regent.

‘I have shocked you.’

The simplicity of her response made Jane aware of how tight her bearing had become. ‘Forgive my surprise. I have not been much in London, and am used to simpler ways.’

‘Do not let it worry you. I am past being offended. It is a subject of some confusion to me, why gentlemen are allowed their conquests and yet remain gentlemen, while a lady must bear the burden of the conquest all alone.’

Jane could not offer an answer. As they turned the corner of the room, they again faced the small groups of women chatting amiably. It was hard to miss the disdainful glances cast their way as she promenaded up the length of the Blue Room with Lady Hertford. It came to Jane, all at once, the change in station she had experienced by becoming an artisan, for the only woman in the room who was willing to speak with her at length was the Prince Regent’s mistress.

The confusion and dismay that filled her was extreme. Lady Hertford had been all kindness and interest . . . and yet, to have fallen into such a state. Jane hardly knew what to say or do. She could not approve of Lady Hertford’s conduct, but neither was she willing to condemn a woman who had done her no ill. ‘It must be very hard for you.’

‘Well . . . it is not all difficulty. Prinny is a dear and is very good to me. These others,’ – her tone might have been discussing cattle – ‘these others are friendly with me for his sake. Or rather, for their sake, because to cut me would be to cut their chances with him, and none have the strength of character to risk that by insisting on proprieties. And, my dear, you must understand that I chose this. I am not such a simpering fool as to not understand exactly what I was embarking on.’

Just then, the door to the drawing room opened and saved Jane from answering. The gentlemen swaggered into the room with the masculine scent of cigars and brandy. Some had been more deeply in their cups than others, as was evidenced by their too-raucous laughter. The Prince Regent was one of these, and his voice carried over the others. ‘I tell you Vincent, I want them gasping tomorrow, and you will do that for me. You. You will. Yes. You.’ He had his arm around Vincent’s neck as if they were chums, but Jane could see the muscle tightening at the base of her husband’s jaw.