At two o’clock that afternoon, Campion was reigning over a quiet Calverstill House. The duke and duchess were visiting the new exhibition of Italian marbles. Charlotte had painted all morning and was just taking a bath and dressing. Lord Holland was due in a half hour, to accompany her to a picnic al fresco. The household had noted with discreet interest the frequency with which Lord Holland accompanied Charlotte. Not that they were in agreement about him.

The housekeeper, Mrs. Simpkin, was a strong supporter of Lord Holland.

“He’s … he’s so romantic,” she said, patting her ample bosom. “He’s a real gentleman, Mr. Campion, always so finely dressed.”

“That’s not the point, Mrs. Simpkin,” said Campion severely. “The question is, is he a gentleman underneath? Why doesn’t he have any money, think you? Because he gambles, most likely. And would he stop gambling once he had Lady Charlotte’s money? I ask you!”

“We don’t know that he gambles,” protested Mrs. Simpkin. “Perhaps he lost his inheritance in a fire.”

“Unlikely,” said Campion. “Most unlikely, Mrs. Simpkin. Because, had there been such a fire, we would have read about it, wouldn’t we? And we didn’t. Therefore he gambles.”

“He loves her,” Mrs. Simpkin replied illogically. “He loves her; I can see it in his eyes.”

“His eyes!” Campion said with disgust. “There’s another problem. They are too blue. No man has eyes that blue.”

When someone thumped the heavy brass knocker that afternoon, Campion opened the door majestically, prepared to intimidate Lord Holland’s manservant, who had to act as footman as well.

But at the door was a proper footman, a regular long-jawed type dressed in fancy livery from head to toe. Campion recognized quality when he saw it, and this was a quality servant.

“May I help you?” said Campion in his deepest voice (for Campion too was a quality servant).

“The Earl of Sheffield and Downes requests the presence of Lady Charlotte Daicheston at a picnic al fresco,” said the long-jawed one.

By this point Campion had taken in the elegantly hung, gold-embossed carriage that waited before the house. Of course, he ought to point out that Lady Charlotte was previously engaged, and send this footman on his way. But perhaps he should send a message upstairs first? An earl, after all.

Campion finished his calculations without moving one facial muscle. “I will ascertain whether Lady Charlotte is available,” he said, closing the huge doors of Calverstill House.

The quality footman retreated back to his position, standing behind Alex’s carriage. Quiet descended on Albemarle Square for five minutes. Suddenly the door of the carriage flew open and Alex, with Pippa rather precariously situated on his shoulder, descended and climbed the steps. He briskly banged the door knocker.