My rescuer cocked his head as if he did not quite take my meaning. His expression had begun to arouse my anxiety. I drew in my breath, for I understood what was now required of me; in order to preserve my initial falsehood, I must lay another upon it. And then, undoubtedly, another upon that, so that in no time at all a veritable façade of brick would stand between the truth of my situation and this busybody.

I paused and then lowered my head. I shut my eyes tightly, as if forcing away some painful remembrance.

‘Mr Savill,’ I began in little better than a whisper, ‘I confess, I . . . I am quite undone and find myself in the most dire of circumstances . . .’

The Irishman moved nearer to me upon the bench. His countenance had altered into an expression of genuine concern.

‘You see, sir, his lordship has been away for some time – near to a month. When we parted he directed me to await his instructions, but I fear they have never arrived. I have not had a single letter from him, Mr Savill, and I know not what to think. Every day I have petitioned Lord Torrington and his secretary for intelligence of him, but they too are unable to account for his silence. They know only that he arrived in Paris but have heard no more . . .’

Mr Savill drew in closer still, rapt by the details of my story.

‘My lady, such disappearances . . . they are not without precedent in these times.’ He spoke in a grave tone. ‘Imprisonment for . . . trifling offences . . . it is not uncommon . . .’

I met his gaze. There was unfeigned disquiet in it.

‘. . . but it is also entirely possible that Viscount Torrington is not presently at liberty to reveal the nature of your husband’s mission to Paris. I realize this possibility will do nothing to assuage your immediate concerns, either.’ He then lifted my hand into his. ‘My dear, dear Lady Allenham, what suffering you must have endured these past weeks, and I cannot but think this latest misfortune with your equipage will have taken a great toll upon your nerves.’

I bit my lip and nodded.

‘Why, it is quite intolerable to contemplate, and I shall not permit you to pass another moment unassisted. By your leave, my lady, I shall endeavour to manage the entirety of this upon your behalf. It will be an honour to serve you in his lordship’s absence. I insist that you complete your journey to Paris under my protection.’

This was not the response I had anticipated nor would I ever have solicited it. I wished no person to learn of my business, to question me, to examine my character (or my fibs) too closely.