It was a most unexpected performance, of the class usually seen on stage in Drury Lane. Fanny was quite taken aback. Had the child spent hours with a dancing master practising for the moment? Knowing girls’ schools – which Fanny did not particularly, though that did not stop her forming an opinion – this was the sort of lesson they were required to teach. On Meeting Your Father’s Next Wife …

‘It is a pleasure to see you back here, my dear.’ Fanny took the little hand; Mary’s face conveyed no expression at all. ‘I do hope you enjoy your stay.’ At some point during the interminable curtsey, Sir Edward had come up behind his daughter. Fanny fixed a bright smile. ‘After all, we are all now to be family.’

Somehow, she dared not risk embracing the child, but then a curtsey seemed odd. Into the paralysis stepped Sir Edward.

‘And this …’ he proclaimed, pulling a boy from behind him and into the forefront. Had a shepherd’s crook been at hand, there could be no doubt he would have employed it. ‘… is my eldest son, Norton.’

Oh dear, thought Fanny. Poor Norton. He was an awkward youth – she gathered about twelve years of age – of sharp corners, high blushes and chronic embarrassment, who displayed no discernible immediate plans to turn into a swan. As she and the boy performed the necessary rituals, Fanny felt suddenly exhausted, not just from the morning so far – the heat was building again – but also the thought of the long days ahead of her.

It was as if her dear father could read Fanny’s mind. ‘It is a little warm out here, is it not?’ Mr Knight seized control. ‘Let us save the rest of the introductions for later. Pray – Sir Edward, children, do come in.’

Later that afternoon, Fanny stood, with her eyes closed, as the maid untied her lemon muslin and lifted it over her head.

‘Thank you, Sayce.’ She walked slowly to her bed, and gingerly sat down on the coverlet. ‘Oh, perhaps you might unpin my hair.’ Her hair was unpinned. ‘And let us shut out the light.’ The curtains were drawn; then, without being asked, Sayce lifted Fanny’s feet and laid her down for her rest.

As the maid’s footsteps retreated along the hall corridor, Fanny let out a deep breath. Though it had seemed fraught with peril, the day had, in fact, proceeded remarkably well. While the children were absorbed into the household, she and Sir Edward had enjoyed a peaceable walk through the Lime Avenue, during which she had found no cause for alarm and nothing at all had gone wrong. And now her fiancé and father were cloistered together in the library, at work on the settlement that would lead her to the altar at last.

Still, she was thoroughly done in by it.

‘Darling!’

Fanny’s bedroom door was flung open.

‘Dearest!’