‘Are you listening, Charles?’

‘Mm. I mean, I am sorry, thoughts drifted off for a moment, must be your devilish good brandy.’ It was a lie, but a soft one. Lord Henfield was imagining Henrietta, eyes sparkling, on the arm of some faceless man whom he hated for merely existing.

‘I was saying how much I missed her.’

‘Perfectly natural that you do, sir. Be a good thing when Preston brings over that puppy. Give you something to write about to Henry, and something to talk to.’

‘As long as it does not answer back, eh?’

‘Absolutely.’ Lord Henfield poured them both another brandy.

Lord Henfield received his own letter from Henrietta a week later. He looked at her neat, still rather schoolgirl hand, and it brought back another letter from her adolescence, one he had kept, and in which she had been so upset and apologetic at angering him. There were no tear stains on this missive.

My dear Charles,

You never warned me that London does not sleep! Of course we are likely to be abroad in the early hours, but there is bustling about from dawn, and what with vendors in the streets, and link boys and horses, it makes one wish so much for the peace of the country. I have been forced to take to my bed for an hour some afternoons, which I would never do at home unless ill. I do not wish you to think, however, that I am not enjoying myself tremendously, even before attending any of the Ton parties. I never have to wonder what to do with myself, and Green Park and Hyde Park provide welcome places where one might walk. Taking one of the maids with me means dawdling, alas, so I prefer to take one of the footmen. They always seem glad to be obliging, which must mean that they enjoy fresh air too.

Lord Henfield groaned. Trust Henry not to see that footmen were as impressionable as other men.

My cousins are delightful, although Cousin James speaks too often in half sentences. His papa is very proud that he obtained a ‘very sound’ degree from Cambridge, but sometimes I wonder if his wits are lacking. Of course it might be that he is actually thinking very important thoughts, and not paying attention to what he is saying to me. You were so very right about ‘pups’, and he counts as one. Now, I wonder if I threw a stick in the park, would he fetch it for me? Am I not wicked?