“Nevertheless,” Lord Dorrington went on, “it’s prudent for every woman, as well as every man, to know how to defend herself. Come along, Alyna, I am going to make sure that, if I ever have to leave home, you will not be frightened.”

They walked to the Bowling Alley, which was a long flat lawn with grass like velvet. It was bordered on either side with thick shrubs, so that the eye of those intent on their game should not be distracted.

At the far end of the Alley one of the gardeners had set up a target. The centre was red with concentric lines marked round it.

Lord Dorrington took one of the pistols from the polished box.

“I am going to show you first of all how you should stand and how you should bring your weapon down on the target,” he said. “Watch me closely, Alyna. Balance is very important.”

He showed her what to do, then, handing her a pistol, told her to copy him and fire when she thought that she could hit the red circle.

She did as she was told, fired, felt the pistol kick in her hand and saw that the bullet had pierced the target some inches from the centre she had aimed at.

“That is not bad for a first time,” Lord Dorrington approved. “But I think you were a little slow. If you have a good eye, you are often far more successful when you swing down upon the object you are aiming at. Rely on the rhythm of your movement to give you accuracy,”

“I think I understand what you are saying,” Alyna answered.

Lord Dorrington handed her the other pistol.

“I will reload this one,” he said.

As he took from her the pistol she had fired, his fingers touched hers.

She felt herself quiver with a strange sweet thrill that she had never known before.

It was magnetic and compelling and with an effort she turned her head, afraid that he might perceive what she was feeling by the expression in her eyes.

It was because of her love that she thought he looked more handsome this morning than ever before.

As usual he seemed part of his clothes so that there was not a wrinkle in his coat or breeches. His cravat was white against his sunburnt skin.

He wore his hat at an angle that was peculiarly his own. Even in a crowd with his back to her, Alyna thought that she would recognise the rakish manner in which his hat was set on his well-shaped head.

‘He is so handsome,’ she thought, ‘how could any woman prevent herself from falling in love!’

‘‘I will have to teach you how to reload,” Lord Dorrington said, busy with the pistol he had taken from her.

‘‘Is it difficult?” Alyna asked.