How had he himself reacted? Was Henry right? Had he presumed? Had he unconsciously, wanting always to protect her, appeared merely as one acting as a damper upon her enjoyment? He could not compete in charm and polish with the other men vying for her affections, so had he turned into an unwanted guard dog? One thing at least was true, and that was they had laughed together more rarely, been close in spirit and able to exchange thoughts by a mere glance less frequently in London. He had feared being so much as he had always been that she would continue to think of him in a fraternal light, but the change was not to lover but guardian. He had done everything wrong, and now there seemed little chance of rectifying the situation.

He stepped into his club and hid himself in a corner in a deep winged chair to brood. It was there that Lord Gorleston found him an hour later, gazing morosely into space, his lips compressed in a hard line.

‘I say, you look dashed put out about something, Henfield. Anything I can do, my dear fellow?’

‘Turn me into someone else,’ replied Lord Henfield miserably.

‘Er, bit beyond my powers, but …’ Lord Gorleston was suddenly struck by a thought. He had seen other men cast down in such a way, and it was always a woman at its source. ‘There is only one answer, Henfield, forget about her. Miss Gaydon is a gem, but not the only delightful young woman in London, even if she is in your part of Shropshire. Open your eyes to the others about you and you will soon find another filly that catches your eye.’

‘If only it were that simple.’ Lord Henfield sighed, and ran a hand through hair that looked as if it had suffered similar mistreatment several times already.

‘Well, sitting in gloom will not help you. Come for a toddle about Green Park, and if you feel you can unburden yourself, I am all ears.’

Lord Gorleston, whilst true to his word as a sympathetic listener, was not of any immediate help, although Lord Henfield was of the opinion that his problem was insoluble. The exact nature of the reason for the falling-out was not revealed, since Lord Henfield felt that Martley’s situation was a private matter, but he made much of how he had known the depth of his own feelings before Henrietta even left Shropshire.

‘Dashed awkward situation, I can see that. Applying for her hand before she even had her Season would have looked mean-spirited, as though you knew she would find someone “better” and dare not let her out of the shire, and was complicated by your having been on such terms with the girl all her life.’

‘I cannot compete with the likes of Newbold, or Netheravon,’ bemoaned Lord Henfield.

‘Er, do you think you ought to try?’ enquired his friend.

‘I have been doing my b—’