‘Because your sister requested my aid. That is enough. Now, I am going to have the horses put to, so go and tell her that we need to be ready to depart in five minutes.’

Lord Leyburn, whilst not happy at being ordered what to do, raised no demur.

If the outward journey had been cramped, the return one was decidedly uncomfortable, and Lord Henfield, his shoulder pressed into the frame of the side window, and with Leyburn, whose clothes smelled rather stale, rammed up against him on his other side, resigned himself to hours of discomfort. Added to this was his embarrassment when Miss Yate, now recovered sufficiently to go over in her mind what had taken place, began asking questions which illustrated her innocence, but which could not be answered because of that same innocence. That they were directed at her brother as much as himself did not make them any easier. Leyburn, anticipating the dreaded meeting with his mama, was in a sullen mood, and snapped at his sister, who looked hurt. Lord Henfield felt rather sorry for her. She had put herself into a position where her mama would be highly unpleasant when she found out about her actions, done so out of sisterly affection, and was being berated for stupidity and ‘lacking any feeling’. Eventually Lord Henfield could listen to no more.

‘Either speak to your sister with gratitude, be quiet, or walk back to London. I see no reason why you should sit there, blaming everyone else but yourself for your predicament, and upsetting your sister, in a vehicle which I have hired. Behave or walk.’

Miss Yate, very conscious of just how much his lordship had done for her and her graceless brother, began to apologise profusely, which was not what Lord Henfield had intended at all. Lord Leyburn sat in sulking silence for the next four changes of horses. At the final change, at Barnet, he complained of cramp in his feet, and demanded to be set down while the horses were changed, so Lord Henfield descended, to let him out. Miss Yate asked for the hour, and Lord Henfield consulted his pocket watch.

‘It is a little after six, ma’am. We ought to have you at your door within the hour, or just over.’ It suddenly occurred to him that Miss Yate had deserted the house ten hours previously, and even so uncaring a mother as Lady Leyburn must have been worried if her whereabouts were unknown. ‘Miss Yate, did you leave word for Lady Leyburn, saying what you were doing?’

‘No, my lord. I could not reveal the truth and did not know what to say.’

‘So all that she knows is that you left the house this morning, with your maid. Miss Yate, you do realise she may well think you have run away, or, dare I say it, eloped.’

‘With my maid in attendance?’