‘Oh dear, and I so dislike thunderstorms,’ bemoaned Caroline, as the first heavy droplets spattered onto the pavement. The footman unfurled the umbrella, and opened it, unfortunately with such force that one of the arms snapped completely and the fabric flapped like a wounded crow. Amidst his loud and profuse apologies, another voice was heard.

‘I say, you will be soaked to the skin in no time if you stand there, ladies.’

Caroline turned, and her face lit up. Lord Martley, safe beneath an umbrella so taut that the rain was beating a tattoo upon it, sketched a bow.

‘We appear to have a broken umbrella, my lord.’

‘Then permit me to stand between you as a thorn between roses, rather than the other way about, and offer you my escort as far as South Audley Street.’

‘But were you going in that direction, sir?’ asked Caroline.

‘It is an excellent thoroughfare, and I have an urgent desire to see it,’ he declared, grinning. ‘Now, ladies, no time to dither.’

He stepped between them and, in order to remain as close as possible and keep dry, they both drew close and slipped an arm through his. The unfortunate footman trailed behind them with his ‘wounded’ umbrella. A flash lit the sky, closely followed a few seconds later by a crack of thunder, and Lord Martley felt Miss Felbridge grip his arm more tightly.

‘Do not be afraid, Miss Felbridge. Lightning strikes the tallest thing about, and, whilst I am not short, I am not as tall as a building. You are more at risk from catching a chill if you get too wet.’

So keen was he that they should not get wet that they had almost to run to keep up with him, and it was two slightly breathless young ladies who thanked him profusely upon the steps of the house and begged him to enter at least until the storm had passed. He showed suitable reluctance, but since Barlow was holding open the door and staring at him, he submitted to their entreaties. The trio entered, followed by the footman, who earned a frown from his superior. Lord Martley handed his wet umbrella to Barlow, followed by his hat and gloves. Lady Elstead was just coming out of the morning room, with a list in her hand, and heard the laughter. She looked over the banister, down into the hallway.

‘Dear ma’am, we were caught in the storm and the umbrella broke, and Lord Martley saw us and offered us his escort, and his umbrella.’ Henrietta unbuttoned her pelisse.

‘Hateful things,’ declared Lady Elstead.

‘Umbrellas, ma’am?’ Lord Martley looked surprised.

‘No, thunderstorms. Do both of you girls go upstairs and change your shoes, for your feet will surely be very wet.’