‘Every lady requires a diversion,’ she announced, delicately shutting the folio. She then turned and beheld me with a gentle, almost pitying countenance. ‘Miss Lightfoot,’ she began, ‘I should not wish you to think me unkind, but I feel I must speak plainly, out of the regard I have for you . . . You see, my dear, for one who is no stranger to the ways and manners of this world, your innocence where matters of the heart are concerned has struck me as . . . most uncommon in ladies of our experience.’

I regarded her, uncertain of her meaning.

‘Last night, when you revealed your tale to me, my heart filled with such sadness for you, child. Why, if I possessed so much as a shred of intelligence about your beloved Lord Allenham’s whereabouts, there is nothing I should not do to bring about a reunion. For you seem to believe that only he is worthy of filling your days, that you are incapable of knowing happiness in his absence.’ She inclined her head and fixed her eyes firmly upon mine. ‘My dear Henrietta . . . May I address you as such?’

I nodded.

She then reached for my hand and held it in hers. It seemed a curiously intimate gesture.

‘I would bid you hear me, child, for I have learned much from experience in these matters: it is folly to attach your affections so completely to one man . . .’

I opened my mouth to remonstrate with her, but she continued.

‘. . . Lord Allenham, for whatever reasons, was forced to part with you. Our role is not to pry or question men upon these matters, but merely to accept them as faits accomplis. My dear, if he had wished for you to accompany him to Paris, you would be with him at this very moment. You must take this to heart along with his pledge to return to you once more, when his business here is concluded. Until that day, you must attempt to forget your sorrows and make something of your existence in his absence.’

The firmness of her words surprised me. The night before, she had sat and listened to my tale and uttered not a single thought or judgement. Indeed, at the time I had believed her to be entirely sympathetic to it. I did not anticipate such a response as this. A certain disappointment settled upon me.

‘You . . . you would advise me to quit Paris and return to England?’ I whispered, unable to look at her.