I realized how little I knew of Nicholas; he had volunteered almost nothing about himself. ‘How so?’ I asked.

He looked at me with his dark green eyes. ‘I was sent to law because my father disapproved of something I did.’ He hesitated. ‘Involving a proposed marriage.’

I nodded sympathetically. ‘You wished to marry someone below your station?’ I knew such cases were not uncommon.

Nicholas shook his head vigorously. ‘No, sir. I am of age, I may marry where I like.’ His eyes flashed with sudden anger, his chin jutting forward.

‘Of course,’ I soothed.

He hesitated. ‘As my father’s only son, the marriage I make is important. Our estates have suffered from the fall in money like so many, the value of our rents has fallen and the tenants can afford no more. A marriage to the wealthy daughter of a neighbouring estate would have brought a valuable dowry.’

‘Yes. I know such arrangements can be – difficult. What is it they say of gentlefolk? Marry first and learn to love later.’

Nicholas’s face brightened a little. ‘You understand, sir. Well, a marriage was planned for me, with the daughter of a large estate near our manor at Codsall.’

‘And you did not like her? Or she you?’ I smiled sadly. ‘Neither position is easy.’

His face set hard. ‘We liked each other very much. But we did not love each other. I am no great catch, and nor in truth was she, so they thought we would go well together.’ He spoke bitterly. ‘So my father and mother put it to me. But Anys and I both desire, in God’s good time, to marry for love. We have seen enough marriages of convenience that have ended in discord. So she and I made a pact, during one of the walks we were encouraged to take in my father’s garden, as they watched us from the windows. We agreed to tell our parents we would not marry. My father was sore angry; he was already discontented with me for spending too much time hunting and hawking rather than helping on the estate, so he sent me here. As a sort of punishment, I think, though I was glad enough to leave the country and see London,’ he added. ‘Anys and I still write to each other, as friends.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Well, sir, now you know me for a truly disobedient fellow.’

‘It sounds as though you and Anys might have rubbed along together quite happily.’

‘That is not enough.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Many would disagree, but I think like you, it is not.’

‘The poor have it easier,’ he said bitterly. ‘They may marry for love.’