‘Talk about “pride cometh before a fall”, Miss Gaydon. Of all the unfortunate things to happen, to have the saddle girth break just as the jockey set him off. There will be those who suggest foul play and dark dealings, but myself, I think it is the dreaded Netheravon luck.’

‘Or lack of it, my lord?’

‘Absolutely. Would you be so kind as to remind me, when we meet, not to place bets on horses.’

‘What about other animals?’

‘Ah, now only the gamester bets upon geese, or pigs or … moles for all I know of it. I am not a gamester, I assure you.’

‘What makes one of those, my lord?’

‘Well, I cannot say what makes them bet, but they try to see the opportunity in all sorts of rum things, whether Monday next will see a hailstorm in Barnet, or whether they can walk the length of St James’s without seeing more than three men they know at three in the afternoon. Laying a wager upon a horse is mere sporting interest.’

‘But in your case, sir, also wasting your money, because of the “Netheravon luck”.’

‘Sadly, true, so true. I may have to drown my sorrows in a glass of champagne. May I procure one for you also, Miss Gaydon?’

‘You may, sir, and thank you, but if you are able to drown them in so small an amount, may I suggest your sorrows do not amount to much?’

‘That, Miss Gaydon, is because the majority of them have been cast aside by the pleasure of your company.’

‘Vastly pretty, my lord, but I warn you, I am very sceptical of compliments. I have but recently endured listening to a gentleman flatter me throughout a dance, but in such a way it sounded as if he spent all day learning his lines as for a play.’

‘Then do not give the fellow another thought, ma’am. He is clearly unworthy to lay his homage before you.’

‘Was it homage you were laying? I thought you were looking for sympathy?’ Her eyes danced.

‘You are cruel, ma’am, very cruel.’

‘Yes, but I am permitting you to bring me a glass of champagne.’

‘You are, and I had best procure it forthwith.’ He smiled, bowed and went upon his quest, leaving Henrietta smiling, and her smile brought Mr Newbold to her elbow, one eyebrow raised.

‘Now, tell me, Miss Gaydon, are you smiling because you have found Netheravon entertaining, or, much more likely, because you are glad to be rid of such a rattle-pate?’

‘That, Mr Newbold, is very uncharitable. I am of course smiling for the former reason, and because he has been so kind as to go to fetch me a glass of champagne.’

‘But had you announced that you were in need of refreshment, ma’am, half the room would have been rushing to obtain a glass for you.’