‘That makes me sound a very weak creature, sir, and I do not think that is true.’

‘And you have only flagged after supper, not before.’

‘Indeed, I was perfectly well then.’

‘And particularly happy.’ Mr Newbold was watching her.

‘I … was not at all unhappy.’

‘Is Lord Henfield a frequent visitor at your home in Shropshire?’

‘Lord Henfield?’ Henrietta’s voice rose half an octave. ‘He … his estate is within walking distance of our house, and he is my papa’s godson.’

‘Ah, that would explain it.’

‘Explain what, Mr Newbold?’

‘The natural ease between you. Except that this evening it was a trifle strained, I thought.’

‘We have not argued, sir.’

‘Oh, I do not suggest that you have,’ he replied cryptically. Henrietta was fanning herself more agitatedly. ‘I think, Miss Gaydon, that I am being less than fair to you this evening. What you should do now is to persuade Lady Elstead that you are in need of your bed, and perhaps a tisane for the headache.’

‘Yes, that does sound the best course.’

He wondered why he had let her escape his questions so easily. Seeing her unwell, and she did look genuinely rather frayed, brought out the chivalric in him, he decided.

‘Drink your lemonade, Miss Gaydon, and I shall return you to her side and support your cause.’

‘Thank you, Mr Newbold. I should have guessed that I could rely upon you.’

‘At any time, ma’am.’

The tisane helped, but not as much as she had hoped. Of course it did nothing for her muddled thoughts. Henrietta was in a state of shock, as much as anything. There had been hints before, of course, easily dismissed, but tonight Charles Henfield had, whilst being the ‘Charles’ bound into the fibres of her life, been also a man in an entirely different sense, and that amazed her, thrilled her, scared her. It was as if a curtain were pulled away, and there he was, not brother, not friend, but … she dared not even think the word. She had danced with his arm about her, and although she had done so on other nights, this was different. He had asked what she wanted from him, and in such a voice. The answer that had sprung into her head had been ‘everything’. She had wanted, in that moment, to be drawn even closer, to be kissed. She had never wanted to be kissed by any of the other men who paid her court. She had tried to imagine it, and failed, but her imagination now was all too successful. She tingled at the thought of it, and yet was ashamed.