“Magnificent!” he exclaimed. “Splendid! I had no idea you could look so beautiful. Aphrodite enraged! My dear, you enchant me.”

“And I despise you,” Gretna retorted.

He laughed again and then, to her relief, she realised that the horses had come to a standstill and a footman was running down the steps of a house to open the door.

“We are here?” she asked.

“Let me assist you to alight,” Lord Wroxhall offered.

He stepped out of the coach first and Gretna prepared to follow him. Lord Wroxhall held his arm ready, pushing aside the footman with a muttered comment when he would have assisted her.

There was something in the man’s face, some instinct that made her realise that the uniform he wore was the same as that of the footman on the box. Or perhaps it was just the Guardianship of the angels over those who are endangered through innocence, but Gretna saw the open door ahead of her and turned accusingly.

“This is not Mistress Fitzherbert’s house,” she said. She glanced around. “And I will swear that this is not – St. James’s Square.”

“No, it is Berkeley Square, as it happens,” Lord Wroxhall replied. “And I thought to offer you the hospitality of my house. I will not keep you long.”

“You know full well I will not enter your house, my Lord,” Gretna fumed.

She spoke in a low voice, because even though she was angry she was ashamed to be seen brawling on the pavement in front of the servants.

“Come, don’t be so prudish,” Lord Wroxhall replied. “A glass of wine will do us both good.”

He put his hand on her arm and in that split second she realised that unless she was careful he would take her by force. She was so small and he had only to link his arm firmly in hers and she would be helpless.

She eluded his hand and backed away from him.

“I must go, my Lord. Kindly instruct your footman – to set down my box.”

“Not so fast, my dear.”

She saw by the look in his eyes that her very resistance excited him. He was determined now that he would take her where he wished and she knew in that second that she faced a danger greater than she had ever encountered before in the whole of her life.

Blindly she turned and ran from his outstretched hand, running along the pavement, not knowing where she was going but conscious even as she ran that he had started after her.

There were people walking around who stared at her in amazement. And then three or four doors higher up, a carpet was being run across the pavement by two footmen, while a third was opening the door of a black and gold cabriolet obviously built for speed.