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‘She was remarkably composed. Val broke down in shame at involving her and her family. No feminine vapours from her. In fact, she got quite vexed and told us not to treat her like a schoolroom miss. She had been married, she said, and to a soldier too, and therefore knew about such male inclinations!’ While he was speaking, he noticed a strange light in his guardian’s eyes and a ripple of amusement that softened his whole demeanour.

‘Those two are redoubtable women. It’s no less than I would have expected,’ he drawled. ‘Actually, I must go round to Green Street and see Mrs Lovatt. I have some messages to pass on about her estate.’

‘I’ll be going back to my lodgings. I’m not used to such an early start to my day!’

‘It’s a good day’s work, Freddie. It was well done. Just tell that scapegrace boy to mend his ways. For a time, at least, or until he’s moved to Italy. Do you think he will marry Miss Carey after all?’

Lord Lynwood leapt up and started to pace in agitation. ‘No! No! He can’t. She should not have to sacrifice herself to save him.’ This passionate outburst conveyed a great deal to his guardian, who looked through narrowed eyes at the young blood staring back at him with a defiant tempestuous look.

‘How is Cleome Stafford?’ he asked mildly.

‘I have no idea. She seems pretty pleased with Captain Fortescue, who’s been dangling after her since Lady Godley’s party.’

‘Ah, but he’s returned to his regiment in the Peninsula. In matters of the heart, out of sight, out of mind, I always think.’ Anthony Brabazon flicked a speck of fluff from the sleeve of his immaculate coat and looked up with an enquiring eye at the young lord still pacing the room.

‘At this moment, I could not care less.’ Dead tired after the emotional demands of the morning, Lord Lynwood turned towards the door. There he paused, remembering his debt. ‘Oh, Ant, Val’s going to pay back your guineas. I apologise for helping myself, but I didn’t know what else to do.’

‘Don’t vex yourself. Tell Valentine I don’t need repaying. I’m glad he’s free. And going to be married.’ But his ward had already left and, hearing that last riposte, pulled the door shut behind him with a decisive clunk.

Mr Brabazon sat staring at his glass, deep in thought. The chair did not seem big enough for his tall frame. He carried his height with unusual grace. His long legs were crossed, his high polished hessians reflecting the flames from the fire and the long, strong fingers of his right hand drummed a regular tattoo on the tabletop, echoing the beat of his heart.

Sybella was sitting in the drawing room with James, practising his alphabet and reading. Her mind was in turmoil over Lucie’s news and the emotion of the morning. She cared very much for Lord Ravenell: how could she not? He was the most charming and delightful company and a very affectionate and kind young man she was sure, but she could not contemplate Lucie marrying him with any equanimity. She knew that the Ravenell wealth and the fact that Valentine would inherit his father’s title, making his wife a duchess one day, was not an unimportant consideration for anyone aware of the benefits that a good marriage brought. After all, Lucie was a young woman whose only fortune was her beauty, her good heart and bold spirit. But Sybella had known what it was to be fully loved by a man and to love in return and she did not want any less for her beloved younger sister. She certainly could not contemplate a life for her where she might not have children and would possibly endure the ever-present anxiety that her husband might be arrested again, his life or exile in the balance. The dangers were extreme.

James was singing the alphabet song that Nurse had taught him, but he couldn’t manage all the words and so made up his own, ‘C was a capt’n, covered with mud… D was a drunk, full of blood!’

Sybella laughed, ‘That’s not quite right, but never mind. What does the alphabet start with?’

‘A was an… um…’ and he looked around the room for inspiration, ‘A was an ant,’ he said triumphantly.

‘That’s true enough. But the song starts,’ she began to sing, ‘A was an archer who shot at a frog.’

‘And B is for Mr B who ’as a grey ’orse!’ James began to giggle with pleasure at his inventiveness, and Sybella could not help but laugh too, tumbling him into her lap and kissing his curly head.

At that moment, Samson knocked on the door and announced Mr Brabazon with a voice even more sepulchral than usual. The morning had brought far too many men through the door of Lady Godley’s usually quiet and respectable establishment for his liking. But at least this one fitted his idea of a true gentleman.

On hearing his name, Sybella was surprised to feel a sudden sense of relief flood through her agitated mind. She leapt to her feet. ‘Oh, Mr Brabazon, I’m so glad to see you! I didn’t think you were returning until tomorrow.’ Then she checked herself. ‘I beg your pardon…’

Before she could continue, he strolled into the room and took her outstretched hands in his. ‘There’s no need to apologise, Mrs Lovatt. We both know what a responsibility we bear in caring for these rackety youngsters. And it sounds like you’ve had quite a morning of it. I’m sorry I was out of Town.’

James had clambered off his chair and rushed forward. ‘Mr B, you bringed your greys?’

Mr Brabazon put out a hand to slow his headlong dash. ‘Now, Master Jim, don’t touch my breeches until I’ve checked your hands for honey or jam.’

Sybella laughed and intercepted her son. ‘We’ve been singing the alphabet song and he’s changed the words.’

‘B is for Mr B who ’as a grey ’orse,’ James sang to almost the right tune.

‘And remind me of the original.’ Mr Brabazon lifted an eyebrow at Sybella.

‘Oh – B was a butcher, and had a great dog.’ She sang it in her lovely unaffected voice.

‘There seems to be no end to your talents, Ma’am,’ he said laconically as he stripped off his gloves.

A flash of memory of his coming across her playing her violin in the orchard at home brought a faint flush to her cheek. Once again, Sybella felt strangely exposed. Her emotions had been so roiled by Lucie’s news, she could no longer keep them as easily in check. She motioned to the sofa by the window. ‘Can I offer you any refreshment?’

‘No, thank you. I’ve just come from Grosvenor Square and an interview with Freddie, which involved much ale to fortify us!’

Sybella laughed and began to relax. ‘I know what you mean. I’m feeling quite shaken up myself.’