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Mrs Priddy nodded. ‘True enough, but not against everything.’ Mrs Priddy’s soft face was mournful. ‘I counselled he should be allowed greater freedoms with more employment on the estate perhaps. He has such a way with dogs and horses.’

Leonora busied herself spreading jam on her toast but was listening intently to the conversation. Lady Bucklebury’s voice became more emphatic. ‘As the second son, he could please himself when Charles was alive, but now he’s the Earl he has to take his responsibilities seriously. When you inherit a great estate, your life is no longer your own, but has to be lived for the family’s greater good.’

Leonora realised with a sinking heart that Lady Bucklebury might as well be reciting the warning to Ophelia against any pretensions towards Prince Hamlet:

His greatness weigh’d, his will is not his own; For he himself is subject to his birth… And therefore must his choice be circumscribed.

Mrs Priddy was quick to smooth the waters. ‘I’m sure Lord Rokeby has shouldered his new responsibility already. He’s most particular about his stables and bloodstock.’

Lady Bucklebury snorted. ‘That’s about all he seems particular about.’ Then a thought appeared to strike her and she asked, ‘Was that high-crested Livia Dearlove at the ball last night?’ Without waiting for a reply, she continued in a ruminative tone, ‘Now she would make a suitable countess for him, don’t you think? Before Alistair went to war, he spent much time with that ne’er-do-well brother of hers and I often wondered if the attraction was not more likely the sister.’

Leonora paused in the process of pouring everyone a second cup of coffee. This unexpected train of thought about Lord Rokeby shook her; Livia Dearlove had not occurred to her as a possible candidate for the post of Countess of Rokeby. In as neutral a manner as she could muster, she said, ‘We have entertained Lady Livia at Hasterleigh Manor. She does not seem to be someone entirely at ease in the country.’

With a jolt, Leonora realised that Lady Bucklebury was much more perceptive than she appeared as the old Countess replied with a glint in her eye, ‘Mmm, that could be a disadvantage, given Alistair’s reclusive habits. Perhaps these Town girls are not ideal marriage material for such a particular bridegroom?’ Her mischievous eyes alighted on Leonora’s more guarded face, as she mused, ‘I certainly think he deserves some happiness after all he’s been through, but only an unusual sort of woman could put up with his eccentric character and taste for excess. What think you, Miss Appleby?’

Leonora stood up. ‘I wouldn’t presume to know, Lady Bucklebury.’ She felt the colour rise in her cheeks and changed the subject. ‘Just after noon, Charlotte and I are hoping to ride the horses you and the Earl so kindly put at our disposal. It’ll exercise them and clear our own heads after last night.’

‘Oh, I would like to accompany you, but sadly my equestrian days are long past.’ Leonora and Mrs Priddy helped her walk slowly to the door. ‘Enjoy yourselves, my dears. Do not break too many hearts, especially not your own.’

The bright morning had turned into a beautiful early spring afternoon with birds singing in the crisp air. Charlotte and Leonora rode towards the Park, accompanied at a discreet distance by Davy, the Bucklebury groom, who was watchful over the behaviour of the young ladies’ horses, but also wary of uninvited approaches by strange men. Leonora had never seen so many people, horses and carriages in one place before, most dressed to be admired in bright silks with gay plumes of feathers waving on their hats. The men were equally showy on their glossy hunters or driving smart painted carriages.

Both young women drew appraising glances, Leonora knew as much for the striking Rokeby horses as for themselves. Minerva sniffed the air, trembling with anticipation of a canter through the trees; Iris was more docile but aware of her beauty and trotted with a proud and easy grace. Leonora felt certain they would meet someone they knew and the thought heightened her spirits. There was excitement in having so many attractive and eligible young men and women gathered into one small space for the Season, a more varied collection of people than she would ever see in a lifetime lived contentedly at Hasterleigh. Out of the blur of distant riders, one emerged, unmistakeable for his height and the size of his horse. ‘I can see Mr Lockwood ahead.’ She turned to Charlotte with a smile.

They had also been spotted and within a minute George Lockwood, accompanied by Lady Livia and her groom, trotted towards them. ‘Why doesn’t he see through her artificial charm?’ Charlotte muttered under her breath. Leonora looked at her sharply; was she jealous too?

‘Hallo, ladies! I had hoped I’d see you in the Park this afternoon.’ His eyes met theirs as he continued in his genial way, ‘I must say you both look very well indeed after the demands of last night. You know of course, the Honourable Miss Dearlove.’ He turned in the saddle to include his companion in his bonhomie.

The women bowed their heads in greeting. Livia Dearlove never failed to put pressure on a bruise. ‘My dears, what an exciting night that was,’ she purred. ‘The Countess’s ball has never been so eventful. You do seem to attract a certain raffish element, Miss Appleby.’

Leonora stiffened. She had hoped that her mask had ensued a certain anonymity, but it seemed not. ‘It was a most enjoyable ball,’ she said in an evasive way.

‘Those are possibly amongst the best examples of equine beauty on show today,’ George Lockwood said, gazing at the restive mares.

Leonora noticed on the treeline a black horse and rider galloping, with a long-legged hound beside him, slipping in and out of the shadows. Her heart was suddenly pounding in her ears as she realised this was the only person she wanted to see. Without hesitating, she turned to Mr Lockwood, Lady Livia and Charlotte and said in a rush, ‘Forgive me but I have something to tell that rider.’ She gave Minerva her head and Davy spurred his horse in pursuit. She realised that Lord Rokeby was looping through the trees past the Tyburn toll and would end up at the farthest bank of the Serpentine. She set Minerva to head him off and they both arrived breathless at the intersection of paths and pulled their horses up, Jupiter stamping and bridling, and Minerva, recognising her stable mate, whinnying her greeting, and trying to fuss and nuzzle him.

Their riders were less effusive. ‘Miss Appleby, good day.’ Lord Rokeby’s face was stern as he tipped his hat, dismissing Leonora with a brief nod of his head and about to ride on.

‘Wait, Lord Rokeby!’ The gaze he turned on her was so cold that Leonora faltered. There was too much she wished to say, but only managed the least controversial, ‘I wanted to thank you for the loan of such splendid horses.’

‘It’s my pleasure, Miss Appleby.’ He wheeled the mighty Jupiter round and, showing more civility to his grandmother’s groom, commended Davy on the excellent condition of his horses. He was about to turn away when he paused and said in a subdued voice, ‘I should have told you sooner, perhaps. While my brother was commanding a force in Holland he had to discipline Captain Ormonde for his mistreatment of a young Hollander girl. He was flogged in front of the company as a warning that such behaviour would not be countenanced. Ormonde vowed revenge against us.’

Leonora was shocked and mortified by her own gullibility. ‘I’m sorry, Lord Rokeby. That is shameful. I did not know.’

With a hard stare he drawled, ‘I have learnt in a dangerous world that knowing who your friends are can be a matter of life and death.’ He gazed over her head at some distant horizon. ‘In my experience, a friend always thinks the best of you, and endeavours to do the best by you.’

Sudden anger blazed up in Leonora’s breast at the unfairness of being condemned as a faithless friend when she had not even known what his feelings were for her. She had been confused by Captain Ormonde’s assertions and her own jealousy of Madame Dupré, but now his moral loftiness irked her, for Alistair Rokeby, by his own definition, was proving himself as faithless as he adjudged her to be. Her chin went up and she said, ‘Sir, if that’s your ideal of friendship, perhaps I can expect you to be the kind of friend to think the best of me, and want what’s best for me?’

His gaze snapped back to her face. ‘Of course I do. No faithless friend am I, Miss Appleby. Look what I have done for you. Introduced you to my Grandmama, making it possible for you to have the benefit of the Season alongside Charlotte⁠—’

His catalogue of good works was cut short by Leonora. ‘By your leave, Lord Rokeby. Having me accompany Charlotte to London has not been in my best interests. If you knew me and were a true friend, then you would have left me to my own contentment in Hasterleigh. That’s where I’m happiest.’ She could feel her cheeks flushing with emotion as she spoke.

‘But what about the chance to marry? All women surely want that?’

With tears pricking her eyes, Leonora said, ‘The man I loved who wished to marry me was killed at Fuengirola; why should I choose to marry anyone else? Certainly not a Town dandy who disdains the country and all who live in it!’

His face softened into a smile. ‘As you can see, I could never claim to be a Town dandy, but give us gentlemen a chance, Miss Appleby. It’s hard to compete with a dead hero.’ He caught her eye. ‘I should know.’ Leonora was surprised by the unexpected tenderness of his expression as he continued, ‘We both have unhealed wounds and should treat each other with care.’ Then, with the lightest touch, his great black horse leapt forward and the Earl of Rokeby sped away.

Leonora watched him canter around the distant shore of the Serpentine, Jupiter’s long tail streaming behind him in the sun. He was right. She should never have doubted him. How clear it was now that Captain Ormonde was out to destroy the Rokeby brothers and she had wielded his perfidious sword for him.