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Ferdy realised with a shock that he wanted a good deal more than friendship. Yet this inescapable predicament was entirely of his own making; how prideful and thoughtless he had been. Why had he not sought the counsel of his friends before proposing to Miss Payton?

With a sense of ill omen that Fate was exacting her dues by placing a finger on the scales of his life, he wondered if this was the moment the charmed existence he had taken for granted was coming to an end. Was it now that the serpent of discontent had entered paradise? The thunder that had threatened all day was rumbling round the heavens, adding to a feeling that something apocalyptic was in the air.

Madeleine was greeted with enthusiastic clapping as she finished her recital, her face flushed with nervous energy and the heat in the room. Guests broke away and went in search of more refreshment, some even straying into the dining room to snack surreptitiously on the food. Mr Shilton, with Miss Payton on his arm, approached Lord Flambard decisively. He had become even more dangerous now that he was masquerading as someone else, while still insisting on playing with fire.

Ferdy Shilton bowed to Mrs Payton, who clung closely on Max’s arm. Miss Payton stiffened beside him and excused herself to seek out Miss Rose. If his betrothed disapproved so strongly of her mother’s liaison with the man she thought of as Lord Whiley, how much more would she recoil if she knew his true identity?

‘Mr Shilton!’ Lord Flambard hailed him, a sheepish look in his eyes.

The night air was hot and heavy and the atmospheric turbulence had entered Ferdy Shilton’s soul. Irritable, disconsolate, angry, he had become a stranger to himself. He was no longer disposed to be accommodating and forgiving. If his reckless friend chose to play with fire, he could do it elsewhere and burn down someone else’s house. ‘Good evening, my lord,’ he said with more chill in his voice than had ever been heard before.

Max Flambard did not mistake his friend’s displeasure and was shaken. He realised how attending a social gathering using the duplicitous disguise of his second title had made public Ferdy’s complicity with him, while keeping Miss Payton in ignorance. Not often shamefaced, the disgraced lord said in an apologetic tone, ‘Mrs Payton and I just came for the music and will soon be returning to South Audley Street. I’ll see you at Brook Street, Ferdy. I don’t intend to be late.’

Ferdinand Shilton gave a smart bow and took his leave of them, concerned to find Miss Payton and reassure her. He hated being embroiled in such deceit; just one of the recent irregular elements of his life that had shifted his whole sense of himself. No longer was he the coolly rational being of impeccable taste and unsullied honour, instead he was closer to the kind of man he deplored, one of impulse and appetite, to whom expedience was more important than integrity, and rules merely an inconvenient impediment to the pursuit of pleasure. He was no better than his rakehell of a friend. How could he ever get back to the Ferdy Shilton of old – blithe-spirited, lucky, beloved? Despair descended upon him like a black cloud, just as the heavens opened and the storm broke with night-shattering lightning and a torrent of unforgiving rain.

* * *

As the last note of the Clementi died away, Madeleine felt an overwhelming sense of relief. She had made a couple of mistakes, but only Lord Kintbury would have noticed and was too well-bred to have indicated anything but the perfection of her playing. In fact, his friendly brown eyes settled on her face with warmth and admiration. ‘Very well played, Miss Rose. You are a master of the instrument.’

The glow of his approbation warmed her heart. How grateful she was for this beautiful dress and her one skill – as a musician. Both had made her emerge for a while from the shadow of being the Lockharts’ disadvantaged little cousin. How rare and delightful it was to be seen for herself. Guests were quick to congratulate her. She glanced up at the Marquess who was still beside her and noticed his eyes widen with appreciation. They had alighted on Miss Hester Payton, who had approached Madeleine with her hand extended.

When Madeleine introduced the Marquess to her, she saw Miss Payton’s eyes begin to sparkle and widen with the same emotion. With rueful amusement, Madeleine realised that in the gaze of a man, beauty increased the desirability of any young woman, and so also to a young woman in search of a dynastic match, a title or fortune made a man taller, better-looking, infinitely more appealing. Such covetous regard was momentary in Miss Payton’s case, for she quickly realised she was already engaged to the richest and most eligible man in London and her position was secure. She turned her attention back to Madeleine. ‘My dear, such a delightful piece, so well played. May I and Mr Shilton commend you?’

Mr Shilton walked towards them and offered his betrothed his arm. He bowed to Madeleine. ‘May I add my congratulations to Miss Payton’s?’ His voice was inexpressive and he did not meet her eyes. When she introduced him to Lord Kintbury, he was polite but curt. Madeleine had never seen him so disengaged and at her moment of triumph, felt strangely deflated by this lukewarm response. Having been blessed with the compliments of most people in the room, why did Mr Shilton’s opinion of her matter so much, she wondered? She had been spared her distracted aunt’s criticism and cousin Henrietta’s petty meanness, as her cousin was clandestinely in the garden with Mr Paget, so why this lowness of spirit? Madeleine knew it was ridiculous, but it was for Mr Shilton that she had played and she was disappointed.

Lady Lockhart was shepherding her guests into the dining room and the Marquess of Kintbury offered his arm to Madeleine. She looked over her shoulder to see Miss Payton take Ferdy Shilton’s elbow and was dismayed at just how thunderous that usually charming, good-natured face appeared. She could not know the reason but wondered if the rapid departure of his flamboyant friend, Lord Whiley, and Miss Payton’s mother could have something to do with it.

The Marquess looked down at her with a quizzical expression. ‘You are not like other young women, Miss Rose. I cannot explain how dispiriting it is to join once more the marriage lists, having been fortunate to enjoy a happy union.’

He looked mournful and Madeleine’s heart was full of sympathy. ‘Have you endured the whole Season, my Lord?’

‘As much as I could bear. But having to make conversation with very young ladies, not long out of the schoolroom, is heavy work indeed. I feel worn to a thread, so excuse any lassitude in my manner.’

Madeleine smiled. ‘Is a young debutante likely to be the best wife for you, Lord Kintbury, or indeed a mama for two little girls?’

‘No, indeed. But the better qualified are already married with their own families,’ he said with a wintry smile. ‘Your playing so well one of my wife’s favourite pieces of music has been the highlight of the Season for me, Miss Rose. You reminded me of the consolations of music. Too many misses are shockingly inept on the pianoforte and yet we have to endure their indifferent play, in drawing room after drawing room, imposed on captive guests by proud, musically deaf mamas. It’s fatiguing beyond measure to have to sit through mere hammering out of the tune, lacking all taste, delicacy of touch and utterly bereft of feeling.’

‘Oh goodness, my Lord! Methinks you may wish to offer the universe for a disposition less difficult to please!’ She twinkled up at him as they helped themselves to cold meats and pastries.

Lord Kintbury gave a bark of laughter. ‘My apologies, Miss Rose. What a graceless companion I have become.’

At that moment, Lady Lockhart summoned Madeleine to the other side of the room. ‘Madeleine! You’ve been talking far too long to the Marquess, can you check with Cook if there are any more pastries waiting to come through? Hurry along, girl!’

* * *

The night had lost some of its oppressive sultriness, but as the rain swept down over rooftops and pavements, people grumbled that the ensuing storm made it difficult to get home through flooded, malodorous streets. Finally the last guests, sheltered by large umbrellas, had been waved into their carriages, the horses and coachmen unhappily drenched through. The Lockhart servants cleared away the food, rearranged the furniture and, yawning, went to their own beds.

Just as Madeleine was trying to get to sleep, Henrietta knocked on her door and entered. She flung herself onto the bed. Madeleine was surprised; she had never before shown any interest in being confiding and sisterly towards her. ‘Oh, I’m so happy!’ she said, her eyes gleaming in the dark.

‘Do you want me to light a candle?’ Madeleine sat up and swung her legs to the floor.

Her cousin ignored the question and continued, ‘Mr Paget and I wish to marry and now all that remains is for us to persuade our parents. He’s the best man I know, Maddie. Thank you for distracting Lord Kintbury tonight. Mama barely plagued me at all to entertain him.’

The candle flame flared and Madeleine saw her cousin, still fully dressed, stretched out on her bed, luxuriating among the pillows with a look of triumph on her face. ‘I’m so glad, Hen. How gratifying it must be to come first with someone. To be the person they most want to see.’

Henrietta propped herself on her elbow and gazed at Madeleine in the flickering light with a puzzled smile. ‘You’re such a romantic, Maddie! I don’t think he feels that way about me, nor indeed do I think of him with such sentiments. But we like each other’s company and he needs a wife to help run a grand house in the country and one in Town.’

‘And what do you hope for, Hen?’ Madeleine sat on the bed beside her.