‘Of course not. You, Miss Gaydon, do not, as I confess most young ladies have to do, “trot up and down” and see which gentlemen might be persuaded to see if you are “up to their weight”, keeping a form of the equine analogy. It is you who may do the choosing, and your only difficulty has to be whether to go for some untried colt or …’ Mr Newbold did a very rare thing, and flushed. He had spoken upon the spur of the moment, without his customary thought, and could not continue, since to do so would mean implying he was a ‘stallion’. That had far too indelicate connotations for Lady Soughton’s withdrawing room.

‘I am not sure that is any better, sir. It seems so … calculating.’ Henrietta frowned.

‘You are a romantic, Miss Gaydon?’

‘Oh, not in the “Where is my hero?” theatrical mode, I assure you, but … there ought surely to be a feeling of tenderness when one looks upon, or thinks about, one’s partner for life. One can, after all, sell a horse if it does not suit.’

At this Mr Newbold laughed, but it made him think. Perhaps Miss Gaydon did need more wooing than entertaining after all.

Henrietta, having forgotten Lord Martley for much of the dinner, made her curtsey to Lady Donnington with growing trepidation. Why had she not simply said that any private talk would be impossible, and put off the disappointment she must give to a young man she liked, but in no way loved? She hoped that he might not meet her until her dance card was full, but he had evidently been looking out for the Elsteads’ arrival, and presented himself before her when only one dance had been secured, and by a fresh-faced young man who looked rather overawed at his own success in securing a cotillion.

‘You look charming, Miss Gaydon, as always. Might I have the pleasure of this next dance, if it is available?’ He made his bow.

‘I …’ Henrietta decided she could not run away from truth. ‘I would prefer it if you were to find me a glass of champagne, my lord.’

‘Then consider it done.’ He disappeared for far too short a time, and returned, glasses in hand. ‘I believe I have found a seat where you may rest yourself before dancing the rest of the night away, ma’am.’ He led her into a smaller chamber, which, this early in the evening, was not much filled with people choosing to sit out the dancing.

Henrietta sat, rather primly, and he seated himself beside her, but not too close.

‘My lord, should not such matters be discussed with my uncle, in the first instance?’

‘Yes, well, not in this case, Miss Gaydon. I, er … I mean, I was not about to make a declaration.’

‘Not a declaration, my lord?’

‘Er, actually, no, Miss Gaydon, not a declaration but a confession.’

‘Confession?’ Henrietta was taken aback.