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‘Look, Mama! Look!’

‘Yes, darling. This is Captain Fortescue. He knew your papa. I thought you’d like to meet him.’ For once, James seemed awed by the sight and he clung to Sybella’s skirts. Captain Fortescue dismounted and led his horse quietly towards them. ‘Thank you so much, Captain, for taking the time to come.’ He took Sybella’s outstretched hand firmly and bowed. ‘This is James,’ she said, gently disentangling her small son from her skirts.

Captain Fortescue removed his tall shako and tucked it under his arm. This made him look less imposing and James gave a tentative smile. ‘How do you do, Master James? My horse’s name is Perseus, but I call him Percy. Would you like to ride him with me?’

James nodded and looked at Sybella for reassurance. ‘I think that’s a good idea, don’t you? You’ll be safe, as Captain Fortescue will hold you in front of him.’ As the Captain put on his shako again and swung into the saddle, Sybella lifted James up into his arms and the child was settled on the sheepskin in front of the saddle. Perseus set off at a gentle walk and Sybella, watching James’s small form encircled by the braided arms of a King’s Hussar, felt a lump rise in her throat at the thought of what her son had lost. The protective loving arms of a father seemed embodied in that eternal image on this bright afternoon in Hyde Park. After a slow loop through the trees, James was returned to her and Alice with a grin on his face.

‘He complimented me on Perseus, told me about his horse, Dasher, at home and that he was going to be a Hussar like his papa.’ He handed James down to his mother and she smiled. ‘I’m due on duty back at the barracks, so I beg leave of you, Ma’am. And James.’ He saluted. As he turned his horse, Sybella remembered she wanted to invite him to the party for Lucie and extended Lady Godley’s invitation. He bowed again in acceptance and then cantered off.

She, James and Alice were walking back towards the Park gate when the sound of hooves made her stop and turn. The distinctive matched greys caught her eye first, then the black and red curricle. Mr Brabazon was driving towards them at some speed, the horses’ silvery manes luminous in the light. He pulled up in a swirl of dust. ‘Mrs Lovatt, I’m glad to have seen you again.’ She met his cool grey eyes with a query in her own. His black brows seemed less forbidding than usual and possibly a smile was lurking round his lips.

‘Mr Brabazon, what can I do for you?’

He had descended from the curricle and left John in charge of the horses. Taking her hand, he bowed. ‘I owe you an apology.’

‘Only one?’ she asked archly.

He was amused. ‘No doubt there are many due to you, but the apology that concerns me now is to do with my estate and your manager, George.’

She stiffened slightly. ‘Yes, I heard that you had consulted him.’ They were walking through the trees with James between them.

‘I apologise for not mentioning it to you first, but it came about by chance. I had driven down to the Hall on business and happened to meet George on the road. We were both riding to town. I told him I had plans to improve my lands there, and he said he’d be happy to discuss them.’

‘I am glad to hear that you’re taking some interest in the estate.’

‘I’m even ordering some of those new skeps of yours.’

She looked sharply up at him and found he really was smiling this time. Her face softened too. ‘Even better news. Now we’ll have more bees to fertilise our crops.’

He looked back at the curricle. ‘I don’t want my horses to get cold. Can I persuade you all to let me drive you back to Green Street?’

‘Thank you. James is rather tired, I think.’ They walked back to the horses and Mr Brabazon handed Sybella and Alice up, lifting James up to sit on his mother’s lap. The day was late and the air was suddenly chilly and he spread a blanket over their knees.

Sybella did not want to distract him while he expertly wove his high-bred pair through the throng of carriages trying to leave the Park, but once they were free, she asked a question that had been preying on her mind. ‘I met a friend of your ward’s today, Lord Ravenell. Lucie was very much struck by his charm. What do you know of him?’

‘Valentine is indeed charming and quite without malice, as far as I’ve heard. He’s liked by everyone, perhaps too much. His father is the Duke of Ely, an old libertine long reformed, who dotes on him.’

‘It’s not like you to paint quite such a sunny picture.’

‘You’re right, it’s not my style. There’s one dark cloud, however, looming on the horizon of Lord Ravenell’s charmed life. He has very many friends, Freddie among them, but he’s also running with a reckless crowd treading a dangerous path. His familiarity with this proscribed coterie concerns me and all who know him.’

‘Can you not tell me more? I’m anxious about Lucie’s feelings. Lord Ravenell has a delightful romance that they are twin souls, Artemis and Apollo, and I fear this, combined with his prodigious attractions, have rather caught her imagination.’

‘All I can say is he will never directly harm her, but is very likely to harm himself.’ When Sybella stole a look at his face, it had stiffened to his usual impassive mien, and his hands holding the reins momentarily clenched.

They continued in silence. Mr Brabazon glanced at Sybella. ‘Perhaps another apology I owe you is for my harsh warning about Rockliffe, about trusting him with anything precious. I lack Freddie’s charm of delivery and am not even in the foothills of Mount Olympus on which Lord Ravenell, our young Apollo, reclines: my brusque words, although well meant, were badly expressed. I’m sorry.’

‘I accept your apology, Mr Brabazon. And I quite approve of your straight-talking ways, if you will accept mine.’

He bowed in agreement, a wry smile twisting his mouth. ‘I’m waiting to hear what trenchant warning you have for me.’

‘I admire your care for your ward, Lord Lynwood, but I will not have you interfere in my sister’s life and happiness. You cannot direct Lord Lynwood’s heart.’

‘I think you’ll find I can,’ he said with irritating calm.

‘Only until the summer, I believe, when he will attain his majority.’

‘That is true. Freddie will be able to do what he likes after that. He can offer for a dowd or a bird of paradise, an heiress or a jade. But perhaps I hadn’t made it clear that I still control the residue of his estate for a further five years, so he won’t be able to mortgage it to finance his or his lady-birds’ extravagances.’