‘Indeed, madam, a trick shall be played, but not at your expense,’ he said, his eyes fired with mischief. No sooner had he spoken those words than the vehicle began to roll forward.

Mr Drummond and his careless air had filled me with a great sense of dismay. For a moment I feared that Allenham was to be the subject of these high jinks. I could not determine whether this ruddy-cheeked beau wished to mock me or entrap me, or even, dare I venture, assist me. Perhaps, I began to wonder, my suspicions were unjust? Perhaps there was no menace to this scheme at all. Perhaps Mr Drummond was in fact leading me to my beloved . . .

The carriage moved decidedly southward, towards the Tuileries and then across the bridge in the direction of Saint-Germain-des-Prés. It did not require more than several moments before I recognized the route we followed; our destination could be none other than the rue Jacob.

‘Mr Drummond, what do you mean by this?’ I implored him.

The young gentleman sat, perfectly sanguine.

‘Why, I mean to restore your honour, Miss Lightfoot.’ He then paid me a wink.

I regarded him quizzically.

‘And, pray, how do you propose to achieve that, sir?’

‘Quite plainly through the application of fraud, madam,’ he announced, slipping his fingers into the pocket of his waistcoat. He drew out a visiting card and placed it into my hand.

When at last a cast of light fell upon it, I could scarcely believe my eyes. It read:

I looked at him, aghast.

‘How did you come by this?’ I cried.

Drummond laughed again, in that conceited manner so natural to young men of great fortune.

‘Why, I had it printed for me this very evening, at Mrs Elliot’s behest.’

‘Mrs Elliot?’

‘Your relation, Miss Lightfoot,’ he said. ‘She has arranged this entire affair.’

At that moment, we found ourselves at the gate of the Hôtel l’Impératrice. The mere sight of that dreaded place caused my belly to fold over. It was then I believe Drummond spied the alarm upon my face.

‘I can assure you, Miss Lightfoot, you have nothing to fear from that blackguard.’

We passed through the arch and into the courtyard, the scene of my last encounter with Mr Savill, upon whom I had hoped never again to lay eyes. One of Madame Bonet’s footmen hurried to the carriage and assisted Mr Drummond from it.

‘I would have you remain here, concealed in the coach, madam. From that vantage you will not be seen, but it should allow you a fair view of events,’ said he as the door was shut behind him. He then placed his card into the hand of the servant. ‘Please deliver this to your resident, Mr Savill. Given the nature of this matter, I do not propose to be received by him in his rooms. I would have him attend upon me in the coach yard, this instant.’