‘I wish I too could be bold, my lord, for if I was I would say that this must be the best dream I have ever had.’ She trembled slightly, and he felt it in the hand he held.

‘It is not a dream.’

‘It has to be, because when I awake there will be the real world, a world where your mama and mine are in such enmity that what I might wish with all my heart must be impossible.’

‘If you wish it with all your heart, then it must not be permitted to be impossible, Miss Felbridge.’

‘Do you have a way to achieve it?’ There was a trace of hope in her voice.

‘At this moment, no, but if I have your wish, I will strive to find a way.’

‘You have my wish, and you have my heart, my lord.’ It was daring, beyond daring, but the pair of them were behaving entirely from instinct.

‘Then somehow, Miss Felbridge, my dear, dear Miss Felbridge, I will find a way.’ He had always sounded light-hearted, but now he exuded determination.

Caroline blinked away a tear. Had Lady Elstead been watching them she might have wondered at the seriousness of their expressions for the remainder of the dance, and been heartened by both that and their silence, although had she read their thoughts, or known the frisson that existed between them, she would have been horrified. They returned, exchanging slightly tense ‘nothings’. Had Henrietta not been as self-absorbed, she might have come to exactly the right conclusion. A more astute viewer than Lady Elstead would have remarked upon the similarity between both couples, but her ladyship’s understanding was moderate, rather than good, and focused upon her niece.

‘Well, I am mightily pleased that I am not of an age to waltz. It strikes me that having such a dance before supper will disrupt the digestion so much that there will be an awful lot left upon the tables, even with the poor fare one gets here.’

Henrietta and Caroline looked at her as if food were an unknown substance.

‘I think, ma’am, that the “disruption”, as you term it, is quite transitory, and that the passage of a few minutes will restore the appetite.’ Lord Henfield spoke carefully, forming the words one at a time in his head, which was muzzy. It was like being foxed, but without the physical disorientation.

‘Though I doubt that it means we ought to let those who have not waltzed eat before us,’ added Lord Martley, playing to his ‘amiable fribble’ persona. There was just a hint of desperation in his voice, and it wove its way into Henrietta’s head.

‘I do not think running for the supper room would be the done thing, Lord Martley.’

‘No, Miss Gaydon, you are, as always, entirely right.’ He threw her a grateful look.