The ride was so lovely that she was already close to intoxicated. Then Ned passed over the reins. His hand touched hers – skin colliding with skin; nerve striking a nerve – and in less than an instant, Mary was completely undone. The spark of connection fired deep in her core. Sensation – strange and unnatural – coursed through her being and beyond all control.

Powerless, she clung to her horse and cast her eyes to the path. Mr Knight spoke again, though the words came to her as from some distant planet. He announced he would leave in the morning, not return before autumn, beseeched that she look after his sister.

In her turn, Mary made a mumbled farewell, tapped the flank of her horse. And cantered towards the safety of home.

CHAPTER XXIV

That summer – the first since her launch – was one long disappointment. It rained for the races. The ball was a poor one. Cassy was darling and brave but, quite understandably, in no sort of mood to have fun; the Knight boys all chose to join their brother in Chawton. Mary went through the motions of the Kent social season, but her mind was brimful of one person alone. And, at last, she understood her own purpose. She had been born to love young Mr Knight. But would he distinguish her by loving her in return? She had left him too suddenly to form any idea. And so by her own cowardice, she was condemned unto turmoil.

Clearly, the stench of distress rose up as a cloud which drifted to Smeeth, for the bluebottle had returned in mid-August. Mary had suspected he might. The Mama still bore the wounds of the Lord George debacle, and it seemed that the only cure she could possibly think of was another match. Nothing too ambitious, mind; no need to frighten the horses. Just a sensible arrangement between two reliable parties. To that end, Fanny returned to Dr Knatchbull’s cause with renewed vigour, and took the added precaution of recruiting Sir Edward.

‘My dear child,’ her father announced at the end of dinner one evening. ‘Let us talk.’

When Mary found herself led not into the drawing room as was traditional, but out on to the gravel, she sensed it was ominous. This was very much the parents’ preserve.

‘It occurs that I have lately omitted to say how very proud of you I am, Mary.’

‘Thank you, Papa.’

‘A young lady’s life is not always easy, I know. Temptations abound; pitfalls lurk in your path. Your dear mother and I are most encouraged to see that you conduct yourself still, as you did as a child, with fine, Christian excellence.’

‘I do try, Papa.’ So Fanny had not mentioned the flirting, then. That he might ever hear of it! Or discover that she went riding alone, brushed her bare hand against … Mary felt herself blush.