The Prince was not a coward and he rushed at Lord Dorrington only to receive a blow on the chin, which lifted him off his feet.

“I will kill you,” Lord Dorrington growled through gritted teeth.

As the Prince tried to rise, he hit him again.

Then, as if he realised that the Prince was not a worthy opponent, he took him by the collar and pulled him onto his knees.

He could see lying on the ground the small whip, the present for Rupert, which he had been carrying in his hand.

He picked it up and said grimly,

“I will not break my knuckles on scum like you, but I intend to teach you a lesson you will not forget in a hurry – ”

As he spoke, he pulled the dazed Prince’s coat from his shoulders and started to lash him ferociously in a manner that after a moment made the Prince shriek with pain.

“You enjoy beating women,” Lord Dorrington said grimly. “It’s about time you had a dose of your own medicine.”

He whipped the Prince until he fell forward now only semi-conscious. His white linen shirt was ripped into shreds and there were purple weals across his back.

“Now get out of here!” Lord Dorrington commanded.

He realised as he spoke that the Prince was almost past obeying him. Despite his flamboyant appearance, the way he lived and his sexual excesses had made him soft.

He had no stamina and with an exasperated sound Lord Dorrington pulled him to his feet.

Carrying the beaten man’s coat under one arm he assisted him with the other to stumble down the path and up the lawn towards the house.

Lord Dorrington did not take him through the French windows. Instead they walked round by the servants’ quarters until finally they emerged into the drive.

The groom stared in astonishment at the Prince’s dishevelled appearance.

“Take your Master home,” Lord Dorrington said sternly, “and make it clear to him, when he can understand what you are saying, that if he ever comes here again he will leave not on his own two feet, but on a stretcher.”

He loosened his hold on the Prince as he spoke and saw him fall onto the seat in the curricle. Then he turned and walked towards the stables.

He remembered seeing Alyna, as he had hit the Prince, rise to her feet and run like a frightened fawn away towards the wood.

He calculated that by now she would have gone some distance.

He found his groom in the stables rubbing down the horses and looked quickly into the other stalls.

There was a hunter belonging to his brother-in-law, a large sturdy animal that Lord Dorrington remembered well.

“Saddle this horse,” he said to his groom, “and quickly.”

The groom obeyed him and a few minutes later Lord Dorrington flung himself onto the saddle and rode back towards the house.