‘Here comes William at least,’ Oliver said. ‘Who is the man with him? One of your guests, Martin?’

‘Ah, that is James Mortreath, he’s an acquaintance of William’s.’

‘Mortreath, you say?’ Oliver’s strong dark features became alive with interest. ‘There are Mortreaths back in my family history. I wonder if there is any connection. As far as I know they all died out years ago.’

‘You can ask him presently, it may prove interesting to you. He is a lawyer by profession, a very efficient one by all accounts and also has banking interests. He’s come down to Cornwall from the capital city to arrange the sale of a considerable amount of property he has inherited at Truro. William met him there at the races and since then he has called often at Tolwithrick – Ameline is the attraction.’

‘That is hardly surprising, Ameline is a most attractive young lady.’ Oliver gazed at James Mortreath. ‘Will he make a suitable husband for her? He doesn’t look comfortable in society and he appears to be much older than Ameline. The difference in their ages seems more apparent than my own to Kerensa.’

Sir Martin was smiling as he watched James Mortreath descend the stairs at the side of his son. ‘I’ve made enquiries about him. I wouldn’t allow my dearest granddaughter to marry just any young fop. William and I are in agreement. Mortreath’s a fine man, upstanding, successful and highly regarded and wealthy in his own right. I fancy he’ll ask for Ameline’s hand in marriage tonight.’

‘I grant you he sounds the ideal suitor for any young lady of quality,’ Oliver said, looking around for another glass of wine.

‘He is. I hope Ameline will have him willingly. He’s a good churchman too, doesn’t have any sympathy with this Methodist nonsense. Can’t think why you of all people tolerate it, Oliver.’

‘Each man to his own way of believing, Martin. I haven’t heard anything yet in Wesley’s or his laymen’s preachings that I can take exception to.’

Sir Martin gave Oliver a sideways glance. ‘You don’t take all their prattlings to heart either though, do you, my boy? Haven’t given up smuggling, for instance. You don’t think of it as “an abomination”. You’re too much your own man.’ He looked back up the stairway and tut-tutted in extreme irritation. William and James Mortreath’s progress was being impeded by the enormously overweight Countess of Nansavellion. ‘Huh!’ he grunted. ‘Now Rachael’s wretched mother is delaying William!’

Scanning the animated crowd for a footman with a tray of wine, Oliver was delighted when a young man in an officer’s uniform of the 32nd Regiment of Foot handed him a full glass.

‘Martin! How good it is to see you and how good you look in the red and white. It makes me wish I was back in the regiment again.’