Following the interview with his papa, Lord Martley had spent a convivial evening with some of his cronies, and returned home very nearly sober and at the remarkably early hour of one in the morning. When he broke his fast at barely past ten of the clock, he had no thought that he might find his mother in possession of the breakfast room, and it very nearly made him decide that starvation was a better course. She had espied him, however, and so escape proved impossible. He sat, awaiting the inevitable lash of her tongue, and found instead that he was being extolled, if not ordered, to ‘make himself pleasant, if that is possible’ to Miss Gaydon.

‘The girl, despite residing with That Woman, seems polite, and is sole heiress to her father’s property, which is apparently extensive in Cheshire.’ Lord Martley did not think it wise to correct the geographical location. ‘Whilst not convenient for the greater part of our estates, acres are not to be ignored, and they could always be sold off for something nearer Town. You cannot complain that the girl is ugly, for she is patently one of the successes this Season. It does mean, however, that you cannot simply meander along and hope she notices you. You must apply yourself, Martley, do you hear?’

‘Yes, Mama.’ He paused, as the cogs of his brain whirred silently. ‘I shall make sure that I am in Miss Gaydon’s vicinity as often as possible.’

‘Good. At least you can obey basic instructions, which is more than your father appears able to do.’

Lord Martley thus took his sire to be in her bad books, which was a location with which he was also painfully familiar. He made a reasonable breakfast in the circumstances, which included being told what to eat, and how many times to chew it. He then withdrew, not, as his mama assumed, to prepare for ‘lounging about’ at his club, but to go out for a walk in the park. She would have regarded this activity with suspicion.