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Angelica’s eye was caught by a tall, dark figure emerging from a house on the corner of Southampton Street. The immaculate black coat and dark trousers made Lord Rackham such a striking presence amongst the colour and chaos of the market square. He strolled into the centre of the Piazza, greeting a few people on his way. Angelica tried to shrink back into the shadows of the theatre portico but too late as his keen eye caught hers and he walked towards her. ‘My dear Miss Leigh, what a pleasure. After my disappointment last week too!’

‘Good afternoon, Lord Rackham.’ With the modicum of politeness necessary, she extended her hand.

He was standing too close to Angelica for her comfort when he murmured, ‘It is indeed convenient to see you as I was about to send you a note requesting a meeting. I have some important information to convey to you that affects your friend’s illustrious career.’

Angelica was taken aback by his words. ‘Which friend might that be, Lord Rackham?’ she asked coldly.

He snorted. ‘Keep your ingenue act for the stage, my dear. You know full well who I mean. It seems you are quite intimate with the honourable Member of Parliament for Abingdon, that paladin of virtue.’ His voice drawled with contempt. ‘It is his career with which I am concerned.’ He smiled like a fox, his eyes cold and only his teeth glinting between bared lips. ‘Perhaps you will do me the honour, and bestow on your friend some critical benefit, by visiting me at my rooms in Parliament?’

Angelica felt something cold slither down her spine. What might he know of how she had implicated Mr Asprey? She met Lord Rackham’s gaze and foreboding gripped her. She recognised what she found so disturbing was his blackness of soul. He knew himself a villain but so deep was his misanthropy he scorned the best of humankind as being mere hypocrites in the world, operating as cynically as himself. This profound lack of shame made Lord Rackham invulnerable. With a chilling intuition, Angelica knew he hated to be bested and would go to any extreme to achieve his ends.

She could not bear to maintain his gaze and lowered her eyes, saying, ‘I consider Mr Asprey’s work of national importance. If I can help his career I will attend your office tomorrow.’

Lord Rackham took her hand again. ‘You’re a sensible woman. I’ll expect you at three, Miss Leigh. Don’t let me down this time,’ he said with a hint of menace. ‘Come to the entrance and the Parliamentary officers will lead you to my rooms.’

Just at this moment, Mr Breville’s curricle swung into view with the bulky figure of Mr Brunner sitting up in the driving seat. Angelica almost called out with relief at the reassuring sight. She waved and the curricle wheeled round to pull up at the steps. Lord Rackham tipped his hat and turning on his heel, melted into the crowd.

Angelica realised how tightly she had been holding herself together, for when she tried to walk down the steps the tension drained from her. ‘Mary, take my arm would you?’

Mr Brunner had jumped down and was by Angelica’s side in a trice. He handed her and Mary up into the curricle and turned the horses for home. Angelica was silent. Just a few hours before she had been surprised by hopeful joy in Ivor Asprey’s company but how short-lived that had been. Since being apprehended by Lord Rackham, an inexpressible dread gripped her spirit and her buoyant heart was suddenly weighted with lead. She feared Lord Rackham as a formidable foe and had a growing sense of horror that somehow he could destroy the man she now knew she loved.

In her training as a maid, Mary had learned discretion and so had moved out of earshot as Lord Rackham engaged her mistress in conversation, but it was clear there was a struggle of wills between them, and the power was not with her mistress. She leaned across and said, ‘Lord Rackham’s a lone wolf, that’s the trouble.’

‘I know. This is what I fear. He is proof against affection and contempt. What can you do with a man like that?’ By the time they had returned to Berkeley Square, Angelica’s fatigue had crept into her bones and her heart lay heavy in her chest. Extremes of emotion drained what energy she had left. She sought out her mother in the drawing room.

Mrs Leigh sat in the window seat with her appointments’ diary open in her lap. Since her return, not only did she have a new wardrobe, with the unmistakeable Parisian stamp of luxury and fine detail, but her pretty face was less disconsolate. Mr Breville seemed increasingly charmed by her and she was at her most outrageously coquettish with him as he gave her carte blanche with his fortune. There was a light-hearted harmony in the household.

Mrs Leigh glanced up as her daughter entered the room. ‘How did the rehearsal go?’

‘Rather dully.’

With Angelica’s flat words her mother peered more closely. ‘My dear, what’s troubling you?’

‘Nothing, Mama. I’m just tired. I think I’ll go to bed early, and be better in the morning.’

‘I have the answer. Something to cheer you.’ She tapped her finger on her diary. ‘Just two weeks until the Jubilee Celebration. I thought I’d hold our own Jubilee party. We’ll start in Hyde Park. On the Serpentine there’ll be re-enactments of Lord Nelson’s victory on the Nile.’

Angelica knew excitement was already building. All the London parks would be given over to riotous fêtes for a couple of days. A national holiday had been declared and the theatre would be dark so Angelica had three full days’ holiday to enjoy.

Mrs Leigh looked up from her diary. ‘You went to bed last night quite indisposed, I want to know more of what’s transpired. Come and sit down.’ She patted the seat beside her.

‘Oh, Mama, I don’t want to go over it. Suffice to say that when I was ill, Lord Latimer and Miss Fitzjames grew closer and I think might well marry.’

Her mother’s eyes flashed. ‘What a sly jade! I didn’t know it was she who was Lord Latimer’s intended. And you a friend to her too.’

‘You, of all people, should understand how the heart roams where it will. We cannot direct whom we love.’ Angelica’s voice tailed off as she thought of the thunderbolt that had struck her, with not much warning. How much easier if her heart had been stirred by a man of little consequence in the world. But it had settled on one of the most esteemed reforming politicians whose public behaviour had to be beyond reproach. Criminality, scandal and dishonour could not sully his door, but wherever she went Angelica feared all three followed like a shade.

She wished she could confide in her mother, but Mrs Leigh had grown up with such deprivation, she’d learned young to grasp what she could for herself with little concern for scruples. Angelica’s childhood had been poor too, but thanks to her mother’s willingness to work at any employment that came her way, she had been provided with sufficient food and shelter to enjoy the luxury of a conscience. She recognised the existence of a universal good beyond her own need; Mr Asprey, in his work to better the lives of factory children belonged in that rarefied place. Angelica feared her love for him could not be more ill-placed; her reputation was so clearly at odds with his.

In a moment of dejection, she wondered if perhaps her destiny, after all, was not love and marriage and social acceptance, but merely to be the companion of a rich man, subject to his whims, like Mama. Or perhaps more congenially, there was a chance that a resourceful woman like herself could continue to work and gain independence; she enjoyed her profession but being an actress would not be available to her for ever. However, Mr Breville planned to open a shop in Mayfair selling his finest imported French porcelain, perhaps she could help develop his empire?

‘Mama.’ Angelica’s voice was thoughtful. ‘Perhaps I won’t marry. I could continue my acting, and then when Mr Breville opens his emporium…’

Her musing was cut short by her mother snapping her diary shut and springing to her feet in irritation. ‘Angelica! Don’t be tiresome.’ She stamped her foot. ‘What hoity-toity disregard for your greatest gift. God gave you such beauty, Angelica, so you could make your way in the world and unite with a noble family. Of course you will marry!’ Amabel Leigh flounced to the window and looked out, disgruntled by the contrariness of her wilful daughter.

Angelica walked to her side, putting a hand on her arm. ‘Mama, I know how tirelessly you’ve worked to care for me when times were hard, and I couldn’t be more grateful that you and Mr Breville share your home with me.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But you of all people should know how my profession, and now my father’s criminal past, disqualifies me from that life you’d hoped for me.’

Her mother turned with an anxious expression in her eyes. ‘It’s not like you to be so cast down. What has happened?’