He paused gloomy for a moment, but then his face brightened. ‘And now I’ll be able to get them back!’ he said delightedly.

He glanced at my face. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ he asked.

‘You’re a thief,’ I said. ‘A thief and a drunkard and a gambler.’

Perry looked contrite. ‘I did win, though,’ he offered.

‘I’m no better,’ I said. ‘I was a thief and a card-sharper and a horse-trader. You are what you have to be, Perry. But don’t ever steal from me again.’

His face brightened. ‘I’ll make a promise with you,’ he offered. ‘I will never steal from you again, I will never steal from Mama again, and I will never pawn anything of hers or yours again. It has been dreadful, Sarah, I thought I’d not be able to get them back and then she would have known!’

I nodded. I could imagine how afraid Perry must have been.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘I hold you to your promise. You must never steal from me or your mama again. And I’ll never steal from you or cheat you.’

He put out his long-fingered soft hand and we shook firmly.

‘Done,’ I said. ‘Now get your winnings off my bed, I need to sleep, I have a throat like charcoal.’

Peregrine gathered up his papers and crammed them back into his pockets. My bank bills he counted out carefully on to my dressing-table and he added to them the guineas he had borrowed from me.

Then he came to the bedside again and leaned over me. I could feel his warm brandy-sweet breath on my face as he leaned over.

‘Good-night Sarah,’ he said softly and kissed me on the cheek. ‘Good-night, my best of friends.’

I cat-napped after he left me; once, I turned and was wideawake and found I was chuckling, thinking of Perry coming into my room, his pockets bursting as if he had been sharping cards all night. Then I heard the clock strike seven and I got up, splashed cold water on my face, and slipped into my riding habit.

Only then did I remember that it was Thursday, and Will was coming to ride with me today.

I brushed my hair in a hurry and coiled it up on my head, then I pinned on my hat and went to the door. I ran down the stairs pulling on my gloves and the kitchenmaid met me at the front door, her face all grimy and her hands black with soot from the fires.

‘Beg pardon, m’m,’ she said, dipping a curtsey.