I stopped. All at once it occurred to me that the nature of Allenham’s position at Brussels had not been an acknowledged one. It was possible that this explained the omission. I wondered: had he used his own name, or had he been known by some other? If this were the case, how might I ever locate him?

‘Mr Huskisson, sir . . . might I enquire if Lord Gower has received any English visitors from Brussels . . . in the past month?’

‘Brussels, no . . .’ He shook his head. ‘I am afraid not, madam.’

A coldness gripped me.

‘I am truly sorry for your distress, my lady. If it will offer some comfort to you, I shall inscribe his lordship’s name upon a list of His Majesty’s subjects whose whereabouts are at present . . . unknown. Should my Lord Gower receive any intelligence concerning your husband, I would see to it that it is relayed to you directly,’ said the secretary, a scant hint of sympathy showing through his officiousness.

As we returned to his coach, Mr Savill spoke softly to me, patting my hand all the while and drawing me nearer to his side.

‘My lady, simply because his lordship has not called upon Lord Gower does not mean that he does not reside in Paris. Why, it is entirely likely that there has been some miscommunication, some letter which has gone astray. The post in Paris is no longer to be relied upon as it was once . . .’ He continued to prattle: ‘What a blow this has been to you, dear Lady Allenham, what a blow indeed. Well, I simply cannot account for this mystery. It is most irregular . . . but you must not despair, madam . . . Why, should it ease your troubled mind, I shall make enquiries with the authorities at the various section houses this afternoon . . .’

I bobbed my head absently. I had ceased to listen to him. It was as if a fog had settled over my senses.

‘By your leave, my lady, I shall put this matter to my acquaintance. Yes, I shall write to them at once . . . as soon as we return to the Hôtel l’Impératrice . . . the Comte de Ségur, the Duc de Biron, the Comtesse de Coigny, the Bishop of Autun . . .’ He paused and examined me again, hoping that the mention of these noble names would cause me to marvel. But I said nothing. I was scarcely able to form words until we drew into the courtyard of Madame Bonet’s establishment.

‘Mr Savill, if you will pardon me, I should like to retire. My nerves, sir . . . they are somewhat disordered.’ I addressed him distractedly as I moved to step from the carriage.