That said, he was of the opinion that tranquillity, before too long, was inimical to cavalry discipline (and quite possibly to that of the infantry as well); the dragoons would be pining soon enough for a little action.

‘How was your sport last night, Colonel?’ asked Garratt as they settled into a rising trot.

‘Agreeable, most agreeable; though a modest bag perhaps – a couple of brace of sprigtail, a few egrets, a teal … oh, and a python. You should have come.’

‘I should. The entertainment at the Bodyguard’s mess was more than I expected.’

Hervey thought it best not to enquire. The Governor’s Bodyguard had some fearsome customs. ‘Fairbrother here got the teal, I should add – fast and high. There were no snipe, though, so you might have been disappointed.’ (The major had soon established himself as the best shot of all the officers – and had even beaten Serjeant Acton at the regimental sports.)

‘We did account for several thousand mosquitoes too,’ added Fairbrother.

‘Yes,’ said Hervey, frowning. ‘Corporal Johnson swore more than the army in Flanders.’

His attention, though, returned to Georgiana. It was not unusual for wives to accompany Wednesday exercise – Hervey’s only stipulation being that they were not to ride with parasols – but Georgiana was the only female this morning save for Annie, who was riding with them for the first time.

Annie sat well, chatting easily with the riding-master, under whose instruction she’d been coaxed into the side-saddle. Georgiana, too, rode aside, chatting equally easily with the syce who was meant to be her pilot but who’d evidently concluded that his lead rein was redundant. Georgiana had protested that breeches were more suitable here, just as on the Plain in Wiltshire, but Hervey had no intention of presenting her legs for the contemplation of anyone, let alone the entire regiment. She’d been here but a fortnight, and he was still not accustomed to the change since last he’d seen her. It was a change he knew he ought to have expected, but he’d left her in England a child, and now in Madras she was … on the threshold of being a young woman. Youth notwithstanding, she’d be seen as ‘a new-arrived angel’, as the saying went. Indeed, for that very reason he’d not really approved of her coming to India, though it was delightful at last to have her company, for to all intents and purposes she’d been his sister’s ward these past dozen years. But she couldn’t stay here long; of that he was sure. She would need to find a husband – and a good match at that. She was not without connections after all: Henrietta, her mother, had been ward of the Marquess of Bath; Elizabeth, her aunt, was now a baroness (albeit the title German) – and he himself was not entirely without account. She should be presented at court, dances arranged, introductions made …

No, India was not the place for Georgiana Hervey.

And yet … ‘The deuce, St Alban; she natters away like an old Company hand!’