‘Are you a country person, at heart, Miss Yate? I confess all this’ – Lord Henfield indicated the throng about them with his hand – ‘is very fine for a short time, but I am far more at home in Shropshire.’

‘I … I prefer the fresh air and the space of the country, but of course I must go where my mama dictates.’

‘But the time will come when you are married and …’

‘I shall not marry, not now.’ Miss Yate spoke hurriedly, and with some intensity. ‘Whatever Mama may think, Season after Season, I shall not marry.’

‘You know, I think you do yourself disservice, ma’am. Not all men are interested in merely the obvious. A lady’s character is of more worth.’ He bowed over her hand once more, and left her prey to conflicting emotions.

Lord Martley was a popular young man, and the lady patronesses were never troubled that he might leave lesser young ladies without partners, for he was willing to be introduced to any that they felt needed a chance, and did not complain. Until the arrival of the Elstead party he had placed himself very much at the Countess Lieven’s disposal, and had, he felt, ‘done his duty’. From the moment he saw that Miss Felbridge wore a corsage of creamy yellow flowers, his evening was a success, although he was denied the chance to secure his first dance with her by being detained by an acquaintance, and then saw Sir Lawrence Coleford making his bow, and also make Miss Felbridge look defensive. Whilst being a naturally non-belligerent sort of fellow, this made his lordship wish he could remove Sir Lawrence and offer to punch him on the nose. How dare he upset Miss Felbridge. A small sound not unlike a very repressed growl issued from his lordship’s lips, and the gentleman with whom he was speaking blinked, and asked whether he was suffering from indigestion.

However, at this point Sir Lawrence evidently decided to address himself to charming Miss Gaydon, who appeared no more pleased to see him but who, in Lord Martley’s opinion, was far more capable of fending for herself. It was, he thought, brave of her, but it was her cousin’s sweet vulnerability which entranced him. Miss Gaydon was a delight as a dancing partner, and one with whom it was entertaining to engage in light-hearted conversation, but he was never filled with an almost overwhelming urge to protect her. Lord Martley was treated by his mother as little more than an idiot and a child, but Miss Felbridge made him feel like a man, in every possible way, just by looking shyly at him, and lifting the corners of her generous mouth in a smile.