Lord Henfield barely slept at all. He could not rid his mind of his dismissal, and the more he tried to work out what he could have done differently, the more complicated everything appeared. He was also dreading what his hostess might say in the morning. His own mama had been a generally mild and amenable lady, but once, in his father’s words, she got the bit between her teeth, she could be remarkably forceful. He remembered the very unpleasant exchange of letters with his school when Mama decided that the outbreak of measles, during which he had been very ill, had been exacerbated by the contagious boys being treated in their dormitories rather than moved to the school infirmary. Her spouse’s suggestion that the virulence of the outbreak meant that there was probably insufficient room in the infirmary had fallen upon deaf ears.

Lady Vernham did not appear mild. She looked like a lady who smiled, spoke softly, and then made one squirm if one upset her. Failure to do exactly as instructed would definitely upset her. When he finally got to sleep, Lord Henfield’s dreams were troubled with being made to write a hundred lines, each of the phrase ‘Henry has come to hate me’. His valet, upon seeing him, did not, however, recommend cucumber.

When he went down to breakfast he found Lord Gorleston tucking into a fine York ham, and buttered eggs. He looked in a cheerful mood, and regarded his friend thoughtfully.

‘You know, you really ought not to get top heavy if you are acting as my mama’s escort for the evening, my dear fellow.’

‘I did not drink too much. I wish I had, then I would have forgotten the entire evening.’

‘Oh dear, that sounds bad. Here, come and drown your sorrows in ham and eggs. Not that you could actually drown in them, but you get my meaning. Food will make you feel better.’

‘I do not think anything can make me feel better,’ bemoaned Lord Henfield, but sat down anyway.

‘Not wishing to pry, of course, but … Anything I can do, you only have to ask.’

‘Make me into someone else,’ sighed Lord Henfield.

‘Lord, you are feeling dismal. Not something you ate, is it? I know my father was as blue as megrim once after some soup with crab in it, or was it lobster?’ He cut his friend a second slice of ham, since one looked insufficient.

‘It is neither food, nor drink. It is me.’

‘No. I am sorry, Henfield, but you have lost me there. I mean, you were happy enough being you a couple of days ago, and a man don’t change how he sees himself overnight.’

‘It is more that she does not see me as she used to.’