‘Thank you, my lord, although in chivalric terms, would this not be accounted quite a trifling service?’

‘Had there been a dragon in the park, Miss Felbridge, be sure that I should have slain it for you.’ His eyes twinkled and met hers, and they smiled in unison. Henrietta wondered why young gentlemen seemed to portray tasks undertaken for ladies as ‘quests’. Was it to make the ladies grateful, or did they secretly feel that modern life lacked the masculine glamour of being a knight in armour? She thought the realities of the past would have actually been rather uncomfortable.

His lordship continued to entertain the young ladies for a full quarter hour, and then, feeling that he had spent his time well, made to leave them. He strode away with a spring in his step, secure in the knowledge that he had obeyed his mama, given mild pleasure and advanced his own cause.

The cousins were still in light-hearted mood as they left Hyde Park, and had just crossed into Upper Grosvenor Street when they came face to face with Sir Lawrence Coleford, who made his bow, and seemed keen to change his own plans and provide them with an escort as far as the front door of the house in South Audley Street. Henrietta and Caroline exchanged the briefest of glances, but neither young lady felt confident that they could avoid his company without appearing grossly discourteous. Henrietta was also desperately trying to remember who he was, and it was only thanks to her cousin addressing him as ‘Sir Lawrence’ that she managed to place him. He was punctilious, and, in comparison with Lord Martley, incredibly dull. His conversation veered between a lecture and ponderous flattery. He also possessed a thick enough skin not to realise that the young ladies were not charmed, for which they initially gave thanks. However, it was made clear at his departure that he considered this ‘delightful five minutes of perambulation’, as he phrased it, paved the way for him seeking them out at the very next party and placing his name upon their dance cards.

‘Oh dear,’ murmured Caroline, as she removed her gloves. ‘I do think we may be haunted hereafter by that gentleman.’

‘Yes, he is the sort that sticks, like those little green seed-balls on cleavers that matt the dogs’ coats and get into one’s hems.’ Henrietta pulled a face, and Caroline laughed.

‘Now you have made things impossible for me, dear cousin. When next I see him I will be thinking botanically.’

‘Unlike Lord Martley.’

At this Caroline coloured a little. ‘I am not sure he is as wildly ignorant as he pretends, but he is always so cheerful and helpful.’

‘He is, I will grant him that.’

‘You sound as though begrudging, Henrietta.’ Caroline frowned.