Fairbrother put down his spoon and fork again, and nodded slowly, as if turning it all over in his mind. ‘Sir Eyre, I have no need of time to think. I will take up the commission, and eagerly, but on one condition, that our mutual friend has no objection. I am not obligated to him in the strict sense, but my coming here is at his invitation.’

Somervile bowed. ‘A very proper sentiment.’

He rang a silver bell, and khitmagars came to replenish the cups and glasses.

‘And now, Captain Fairbrother, we shall speak only of sporting matters.’

* * *

Kezia’s piano greeted Hervey on return, as so often it did. He’d stayed at office throughout the day, then ridden home at a gentle trot. It was a little before five, and there were still the usual outdoor servants to attend his arrival. The malee, an old sepoy of the 40th Native, stood at attention with flower pot in one hand and trowel in the other; a syce, who’d been apprenticed as a boy to the Artillery, led away the Marwari that Hervey liked to keep for sport and which served him day to day, while the chowkidar, a turbaned Maharatta (of undisclosed background), saluted with his stick.

Inside, Corporal Johnson took his hat, but Hervey dismissed him silently so that he could listen to Kezia’s playing without her knowing he was there. Perhaps his ear was better attuned to fine music these days, for once where her playing had been … (frankly) disquieting, now it pleased him. It might be, of course, that she played different music; he joked that besides ‘God Save the King’ he could recognize only two tunes – one of them the regiment’s march, and the other not. But he thought he recognized this piece, for he’d heard her practising before – Beethoven, which as a rule he didn’t find pleasing. This, however, pleased him very much. And – though heaven knew, he was no judge in these things – it sounded no easy piece to play.

He stood unobserved until she was finished.

‘Matthew.’ She sounded as content as ever he’d heard.

‘You have played that before, or am I mistaken?’

‘I have,’ she said, rising to kiss him. ‘I have tried to, that is.’

‘Beethoven?’

‘Yes. I thought you might think it apt, for it’s supposed to suggest a horse galloping. I think it must be so, for it’s in three-eight time, the rhythm of a gallop.’

‘The rhythm of a canter, certainly,’ he agreed, though he’d no very clear idea of what was three-eight time.

‘I’ll ring for tea. Georgiana’s riding with Annie, and Allegra.’

He looked mildly anxious.

‘And Serjeant Stray,’ she added.

‘Then no great harm can come to any of them,’ he said, with a sigh.

Kezia raised her eyebrows and smiled. ‘It was by all accounts a venturesome affair last evening.’

They’d got back late, what with the retrieval of the tiger and a good deal else, and he’d left early that morning. ‘Georgiana was a little knocked about by the fall, a little bruised no doubt, but evidently it’s not dampened her zeal. Nor Annie’s, for she was thrown too. Did Georgiana say more?’