‘I am thus glad I only made my request quietly, sir. Think of how unpleasant would be the effects of so many glasses.’

‘But you would not need to drink them all.’

‘Ah yes, but I would, for to reject them would be terribly unkind to the gentlemen involved.’

‘Your kind-heartedness does you great credit, Miss Gaydon. I would never have entertained such a thought.’

‘No, Mr Newbold? But perhaps you have a very strong head for champagne.’

He laughed, and was still showing signs of merriment when Lord Netheravon returned.

‘Now that is unfair, Newbold, pouncing upon Miss Gaydon when a fellow has gone to execute a deed upon her behalf.’

‘It was not slaying dragons, Netheravon.’

‘You think not, but if you had had to edge past the bulk of Duxford, and avoid an aunt and two cousins, then you would see that it equates with at least a small dragon.’

‘The size of a cat, my lord, or a large dog?’ Henrietta was enjoying herself.

‘Oh, definitely a large dog-sized dragon, Miss Gaydon, and with dashed sharp teeth and breathing fire.’

‘You will have to ignore Netheravon, Miss Gaydon, for he is clearly in the realms of fantasy.’

‘Only in as much that it is a dream become true to be able to do Miss Gaydon a service. Your champagne, ma’am.’ Lord Netheravon bowed, and handed her the glass, his eyes twinkling.

‘Miss Gaydon, forgive me, but I must retire.’ Mr Newbold could twinkle as well as his lordship, but his mouth was set in the pretence of seriousness. ‘I cannot stomach such sugary utterances. Wit I can enjoy, but Netheravon here is, as I said, a rattle-pate.’

‘So he has been traducing my character to you, Miss Gaydon. Shame upon him.’ Lord Netheravon achieved a look of virtue.

‘Rattle-pate,’ said Mr Newbold again, his lips twitching as he bowed to Henrietta and withdrew. His idea was that she would tire of such light and frothy conversation and find his own more acerbic wit rather more entertaining in the long term.

‘You do not castigate me as a gabster, do you, ma’am?’ entreated Lord Netheravon, with a look that Dido was probably mastering in Shropshire, being a mixture of devotion and innocence.

‘No, my lord, I just remember that you are very unlucky with horses,’ she said consolingly.

‘But since you have put me down for a waltz after supper, I shall account myself the luckiest of men with fair ladies.’

‘I am so relieved that I have been able to set your mind at ease, my lord.’ She brandished her dance card.

‘My evening is thus made, Miss Gaydon.’ Lord Netheravon finished his champagne, bowed and went away in anticipation of dances with ‘the Glorious Gaydon’.