It was not a loquacious exchange. Lord Elstead poured his future son-in-law a stiff brandy, which Lord Martley, acutely aware of an empty stomach, sipped very gingerly. Lady Elstead did not quite erupt into the room, but her feigned surprise and ‘Oh, my lord, I did not know you had company’ were so false as to make both gentlemen blink. She then, at the announcement, burst into tears and clasped Lord Martley by the hand so strongly that he feared the next move would be that she would clasp him to her bosom instead.

‘I will send our beloved Caroline to the morning room. Do you join her as soon as … Such wonderful news.’ For a woman who had been, apparently, only prepared to see Lord Martley marry her daughter over her own lifeless body, this was a remarkable change. She whisked away, leaving her husband and Lord Martley looking confused.

‘Women,’ declared Lord Elstead.

‘Indeed,’ agreed Lord Martley.

Caroline sat very still, on the edge of her bed. Henrietta held her hand, and chafed it occasionally.

‘It is not a dream, cousin?’

‘No, Caroline, it is not.’

‘I am so happy, so very, very happy.’ In proof of which, Caroline burst into tears. At least they were tears of joy, thought Henrietta, holding her. What had stunned Henrietta even more than the volte face by Lady Elstead was the information that ‘kind Lord Henfield’ had been instrumental in the change of heart. How, and indeed what, he could have done she had no idea, but Lord Martley had said, very clearly, that it had been Lord Henfield who had come to him and urged him to make haste and make representations to Lord Elstead, in the knowledge that he would meet with the answer he so fervently desired.

Henrietta then asked herself ‘why’. Why would Charles untangle the knot that kept her cousin from happiness? The only answer that presented itself was that he had been moved by her own distress in Piccadilly and knew of, or had discovered, some incredible way to make the impossible possible. He had thus done this thing for her, even after she had treated him so cruelly. Could he still have a fondness for her? Or was it the last offering before he offered for the hand of Miss Yate? Henrietta simply did not know, and her tears joined those of her cousin, but from a different cause.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE