‘Well, pay your shot there, and come and stay with us. Mama wanted to come up for this Season to prepare her own “plan of campaign” for next year, when my sister, Charlotte, is presented, and so the house is opened up. We rattle a bit, especially now my father has bolted back to Norfolk over some local crisis, and I would lay odds will remain there.’

‘Are you sure Lady Vernham would not object?’

‘Why would she? Besides, if you want to get to all the squeezes where Miss Gaydon will be belle of the ball, she is the person to get you invitations.’ Lord Gorleston’s open, friendly face showed that he foresaw no difficulties.

‘It is very kind … If I do not intrude …’

‘Dash it, we have known each other since Oxford, and my mama always refers to you as “that nice Lord Henfield”. She may even swoon with delight, though I have to say she is not the “swoonish” sort.’

‘I sincerely hope not.’ Lord Henfield smiled. ‘You persuade me. Remind me of the address, and I will be upon your doorstep by noon tomorrow.’

‘Excellent. Now, have you dined?’

It was two evenings later when, having arranged to be Lady Vernham’s escort for the evening to Almack’s, Lord Henfield espied his reason for coming to London, although her hair was dressed so modishly that he had, as she had foreseen, to look twice to confirm it was indeed her. He threaded his way through the throng and approached her from an angle that gave a fine view of her profile.

‘Good evening, Miss Gaydon.’

Henrietta spun around, her expression one of stunned surprise.

‘Charles! But you are in Shropshire.’

‘Patently, I am not. Behold me here, and’ – he swept her a graceful bow, whose formality was slightly diminished by his grin – ‘your devoted servant to command.’

‘That sounds silly, coming from you.’ Her lips twitched, but her eyes were a little sad. ‘And I do not like you calling me “Miss Gaydon”.’

‘It is presumably what every other gentleman calls you in London, and I still count as a gentleman, you know.’

‘But I would rather be just your “Henry”.’ She looked at him very seriously, and for a moment he could not reply. He could not tell her that he wanted her to be “just his”, that anything else was too ghastly to contemplate, and that she looked so beautiful she made his head swim.

‘I cannot say it out loud in Almack’s, but you may be certain it is how I wish to think of you. Will you dance with me?’

‘Let me see. I cannot give you the next dance, for I am promised to Lord Martley, nor the boulanger, because I have offered that to Cousin James, and I do not suppose you can waltz …’