With both Daniel and Norton in on the secret – and Booker, too, having formed some idea – Mary felt horribly guilty that Cassy was still in the dark.

Of course, Mary could hardly tell her. Supposing, just supposing, it was all in her mind? For even as the weeks went on, and their ritual continued, still she must question it. After all, Ned did like to ride and was famously fond of the country about Hatch. He craved company in general, and she was always available while others were busy … But then, she would catch him studying her at dinner while her father opined, and see the warmth of his eyes in the candlelight …

It was to Mary’s benefit, if not her dear friend’s, that Cassy was often preoccupied. Since the moment of the Lord George disaster, Fanny had at once cast the poor girl into the role of useful spinster and set her to work, so that when Mary did visit Godmersham, she would most likely find Cassy sorting the china cupboard or up to her elbows in linen or away altogether, helping out in the Married One’s nursery. Come Christmas, however, the Knights and the Knatchbulls were often combined. And it was then that Cassy started to guess that something was afoot.

On 29 December, as they were dressing together for the Ashford Ball, she mused into the glass, as if they had been mid-conversation: ‘My point is, Mary, though you have long been pretty enough to be almost annoying, I have found it in my heart to forgive you, for I am essentially kind. But I must say – thank you, Lane’ – Cassy tipped her head to the side to examine the chignon – ‘I suppose I shall do.’ She turned to the bed upon which Mary sat, ready. ‘I must say that, all of a sudden, you are starting to take things to a somewhat unfortunate extreme. Stand up! Let me look at you.’

Mary obeyed, smoothed down the white Chantilly on her skirt, and issued a twirl.

‘Well, quite. Absolutely outrageous. I shall not be standing anywhere near you, that you can count on.’ Cassy rose up to standing, a sweet vision in pink. ‘It is simply not fair.’

‘You are divine, darling.’ Mary gave her a tentative hug – neither girl wanted to disturb her own dress – and Cassy softened at once.

‘Of course, it is love,’ Cassy began, almost casually, as she gathered her fan and squashed a scent bottle into her reticule. ‘That is what everyone says, and one is forced to agree. There is not a lady on earth who can look quite so enchanting without an ardent admirer as the cause of it. It is just nature’s way. No need to speak!’ She flounced a little too dramatically. ‘I know you shan’t tell me. I must discover it myself.’