Lady Elstead made a peculiar noise in her throat that was a form of refutation, and said that they were going straight home.

Back in South Audley Street, Caroline went swiftly to her room, and sat upon her bed, her face in her hands. Henrietta followed her.

‘Oh, cousin, I cannot imagine a more unfortunate encounter. Such dislike! It dooms us to be forever parted.’

If Henrietta thought this sounded a little melodramatic, she did not say so. ‘I was not able to tell you before, Caroline, but I think I know the cause of the animosity.’

‘You do?’

‘Yes. We know it goes back to when both made their come-out, and it must have been important. I think they were both hoping to marry the same man, possibly your papa, and certainly not Lord Pirbright.’

‘Papa?’ Caroline had the natural inability of progeny to imagine their parents as capable of inspiring love or rousing desire.

‘Yes, for the portrait in the book room shows him to have been quite personable. What if Lady Pirbright, before she was Lady Pirbright, of course, set her cap at him, but failed, and saw him offer instead for your mama? That would rankle for decades.’

‘Would it?’ Caroline frowned. ‘Really?’

‘Well, with some people, perhaps. I mean Lady Pirbright lost, and …’

‘But Mama ought therefore to feel smug and superior, if anything, but she is just … angry.’

‘Mm.’ Henrietta sucked the end of her finger meditatively. She could not understand that part either, but the rest made such good sense it just had to be true. ‘But Caroline, if Lord Martley dares defy his own mama to ask for your hand, would your mama not see that as a victory?’

‘I think, Henrietta, she would rather I married a blind beggar off the street.’

It was a rather sombre pair of young ladies who were to be found at the Sandbachs’ rout that evening. Lord Netheravon, who had been watching Miss Gaydon over the last few days and wondering at the change in her, asked her if anything untoward had occurred.

‘Not wishing to pry, of course, but you have seemed very thoughtful, but not unhappy, these days past, and tonight you look, well, almost glum, dare I say it.’

‘Oh dear. “Glum” is such a glum word too. I will make every effort to be more cheerful, my lord.’

‘No, no, dear Miss Gaydon, that was not a command, or even a request, merely an observation. If there is anything I could do to alleviate said glumness I would do so.’

‘Alas, I fear it is something beyond your abilities to alleviate, or indeed my own. I think that I must therefore make every attempt to put it out of mind for the evening and sparkle like the diamonds in the bracelet Lady Mary Mortlake is wearing.’