If he had not realised that himself, everybody he had spoken to had eulogised over Honora’s beauty until he had found it difficult because of his resentment over the wedding not to argue with them.

Only now, almost against his will, he conceded that, if he had to take a wife ready-made for him, Honora was everything she should be and tonight he had found her intelligent.

The mere thought that he had a wife was to revive the resentment he had felt when he drove to the Church with his Best Man and found himself hating the ceremony that was waiting for him, as he had hated it ever since he awoke.

He had not slept well and very early he had risen to walk to the window and look out at the mist around the trees in Hyde Park and the first rays of the sun sweeping away the last remaining stars.

He had a yearning, even as Honora had had, to run away, to disappear at the last moment and leave the wedding without a bridegroom.

Then he knew that was impossible for, whatever his feelings, he had to behave like a gentleman and as befitted his position at Court.

At the same time he was man enough to despise himself for being forced into doing something quite contrary to his inclination instead of insisting on his independence.

‘This is the price I pay for my title,’ he thought bitterly.

The same bitterness seemed to make everything he thought seem ugly and, when he put the ring on Honora’s finger, he had felt it was a shackle that made him a prisoner for the rest of his life.

He realised now that without being aware of it he had finished his glass of brandy and he played with the idea of having another one.

Then he told himself that he had never been a hard drinker and was certainly not going to start now.

Almost as if his years of training and self-control forced him to behave like a soldier going into battle, he put down his empty glass, squared his shoulders and walked towards the door.

It was his wedding night and whatever the future held it was important that he should start his marriage in the correct manner and his wife should have no reason to complain about him.

He opened the door and went into the hall.

There he saw to his surprise that the front door was open and thought it was a strange time of night for anybody to be calling.

But there was no carriage outside, only a footman standing in the doorway looking out over the low wall and strip of garden that separated the house from the pavement in Park Lane.

The man did not move and after a moment as the Duke reached the bottom of the stairs, he asked,

“What are you waiting for, James?”

The footman started and turned back into the hall, saying,

“I were waiting, Your Grace, for Her Grace to return.”