“There is also the money that you won the night before and the night before that, my Lord. ’Tis not wise, if you will forgive my saying so, to have so much of value in this house. There are not the same precautions or a strong room to place it in such as we have at Stade Hall.”

The Marquis pushed his plate away with a sudden clatter.

“Give it away,” he said abruptly.

“Give it away, my Lord!” Masters expostulated, startled for the moment out of his usual correct impassivity.

“Yes, give it away. Take it to the nearest Parson and tell him to distribute it amongst the poor, there are enough of them in Brighthelmstone.”

“But, my Lord, there are thousands – ”

“Do as I say.”

“Very good, my Lord.”

Masters withdrew from the room only to return a few seconds later.

“Mistress Fitzherbert wishes a word with you, my Lord.”

“Who?”

The Marquis rose to his feet, looking towards his man as if he could not have heard him aright.

“Mistress Fitzherbert, my Lord.”

She had come into the room as Masters spoke looking extraordinarily bewitching in a hat trimmed with plumes that matched her simple gown of soft grey satin. There was a light scarf over her shoulders and she pulled it around her a little nervously as if the Marquis’s frowning countenance made her a little uneasy and then she smiled at him disarmingly.

“I apologise, my Lord, for intruding upon you.”

“’Tis no intrusion, madam, but an unexpected honour,” the Marquis said stiffly and then, remembering his manners, he added, “will you not be seated, madam?”

Maria crossed the room, her gown rustling softly as she moved, and seated herself in an armchair which faced the sunlight streaming through the long windows that overlooked the Marine Parade.

The Marquis followed slowly to stand opposite her on the hearthrug, his back to the empty fireplace and his eyes fixed on her as if he could scarcely credit her presence in his sitting room.

“Had I known that you were calling on me,” he said at length, as if he felt some apology was necessary, “I would have received you in the salon upstairs. This is but the breakfast room. I was late last night.”

It was unusual for him to explain his actions and, as if she understood that he was speaking to fill in the time until they came down to business, she said quietly,

“You are surprised to see me, my Lord. I have come because I need your help.”

The Marquis raised his eyebrows.

“My help, madam.”

“Yes. Gretna has disappeared.”

If she had expected to surprise him, she succeeded.

He was suddenly rigid, his eyes staring at her almost ferociously.

“It’s impossible!” he exclaimed. “Quite impossible.”