Resolute, Mary maintained her silence, and yet she felt somewhere within – like the first shot of war in a far-distant land – the faint stirrings of conflict. Of course she could never show disloyalty to her dearest papa! The very thought was abhorrent. But then, what classed as loyalty? For example, were she, say, to wonder at Mr Knight’s intuitive powers, or succumb to the warmth of his kindness, or let her heart sing with relief that Norton at last had an ally in life … would then she be thought of as wicked? It was so hard to know.

‘Little beasts! So they have vanished. It is simply too bad,’ he exclaimed, and signalled to the other end of the landing. ‘They could be along there, but I fear I cannot brave the nursery yet a while. Dear Cakey – you have met Cakey, I take it – loves me considerably more than I could ever deserve and will detain me for hours.’

And so, with a light foot – he must make a fine dancer! – Ned led her back down again and stopped at the door to a room overlooking the park. He then turned, smiled – said: ‘Here at least, we shall find kindness’ – knocked and went in.

‘Ned, darling!’ Miss Marianne Knight sat in a chair by the long casement window, a white silk slipper in one hand and soft brush in the other. ‘I had no idea!’ She laid her things down with great care, then rose to embrace him. ‘And you have brought Mary.’ Her tone was warm, but one of puzzled enquiry.

‘I just had the pleasure of encountering Miss Knatchbull on the stairs.’ Ned stepped sideways and extended one hand. ‘She seemed a little lost, Marianne …’

‘My dear.’ Marianne Knight approached and took Mary’s hand. ‘Pray, do forgive us.’ And to her brother: ‘Thank you, Ned. I will look after our guest from now on.’

‘You are good.’ Ned moved to the door, took the handle, then turned with a frown. ‘But surely it is Fan who should—’

Marianne met his gaze, raised her brows and, pretty blue eyes full of meaning, replied: ‘Mm …’

‘I see,’ Ned said, curtly. ‘That is most – But if you would …’

‘Yes of course, darling. No need to worry. I do try and step in as much as I can.’

He shook his head, gave way to a scowl and, just as quickly, altered his mood. ‘Miss Knatchbull, it has been my pleasure.’

Then – this was to Marianne: ‘Do look after those dancing shoes. I insist that you be my partner at the next Ashford Ball.’

And this to the room: ‘And now, ladies, if you will forgive me, I must take myself off to be worshipped by Cakey until even I am bored of my wonders.’

And with that he was gone.