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Lucie followed his eyes. ‘But Freddie, I thought he cared about Bella!’

‘I know he cares about her. I thought he loved her, against all his principles of control and self-sufficiency. He hates to rely on anyone. I’ve never seen him so light-hearted as he’s been since you and your sister came up to Town. He’s been more interested in my happiness, too. I think Bella’s responsible for awakening his heart. Look how he’s giving me a large part of his fortune. It’s astonishing. It’s not the old Ant’s thing at all.’

‘Well, my dears, it’s clear what must be done.’ Lord Ravenell’s eyes were dancing with mirth.

‘What mad scheme now, Val?’

‘You play the panjandrum and tell him to stop being a fool. Get him down to the Manor to declare his suit.’ He sat back languidly in his chair, twirling his quizzing glass, one beautifully booted leg flung elegantly over the other.

‘You’re the fool, Val. Do you think he’d welcome my interference in his personal life? He’d tell me to go to the devil. Ant’s kept it all so discreet, until recently when he seems to have lost a wheel.’

‘Two wheels off, I’d say. But pray tell me, Freddie, when has he held back from interfering in your life?’

‘Val’s right. You’re the only one with the authority to talk to him.’ Lucie nudged his arm.

‘Oh, no!’ Freddie Lynwood groaned as his head sank to his hand. ‘I’ll try. But if he calls me out, Val, promise me you’ll be my second.’

‘If he calls you out, you’ll refuse.’ Lucie pressed his arm urgently, her eyes wide. ‘You told me he was the best shot in London. There’s no way you risk your life.’

Lord Lynwood threw back his head and laughed. ‘There’s no way he’d call me out, and no way I’d agree. We may be fools but we’re not dicked in the nob, whatever that young Jim may think!’

The next morning saw Lords Ravenell and Lynwood stroll across Grosvenor Square from the Duke of Ely’s mansion, heading towards Anthony Brabazon’s front door. Both exquisite young men were dressed to exacting standards. The tying of their elaborate cravats could take more than an hour and cost the crumpled abandonment of half a dozen finely laundered and starched linen neckcloths. But beautifully folded, these snowy confections made a becoming foil for their handsome faces, and an elegant contrast to their broad shoulders clothed in closely tailored broadcloth.

Lord Ravenell walked his friend to the door and then left him, with a little encouraging push in the small of the back. Freddie Lynwood was welcomed by the butler and without ceremony pointed in the direction of the breakfast room. He knocked and entered. There sat his guardian, still in his dressing gown, a magnificent brocade creation of dark blue silk with frogging and tassels. ‘Good God, Ant, I didn’t know you were such a dandy!’

His guardian looked up imperturbably, a cup of coffee poised in one hand. ‘To what do I owe this rude intrusion, at such an impious hour?’

‘It’s eleven o’clock, Ant. Thought you had work to do. Land management and so on.’

Mr Brabazon’s eyes were watching his young ward with a lazy but intent expression. ‘I trust you and your friends enjoyed the play last night?’ His voice was languid and amused.

‘How did you know we were there?’ Lord Lynwood was taken aback. He had only glimpsed his guardian once and thought he had left the theatre early.

‘Oh, Freddie, you know I’m omniscient.’ He smiled as he brushed a crumb of toast from his sumptuously accoutred knee.

‘Well, did you enjoy the play?’ Lord Lynwood asked slyly.

‘I can’t say I did. I chose not to stay too long.’ He offered his ward the coffee pot and a cup, and gestured to the toast. ‘Please help yourself.’

Lord Lynwood waved this aside. It was time to be brave. ‘Ant, I’ve been worried about you.’

The eyebrows went up and he looked at his ward quizzically. ‘You’ve no need to, I assure you, dear child.’

‘Well, I am. I think you’re quaffing deep, Ant.’ There was a long silence and Lord Lynwood glanced at his guardian’s face and his spirit quailed at the sight. The grey eyes were no longer amused but had darkened and lost their humour.

‘What has this to do with anyone?’ His voice was so quiet, it seemed menacing. But Lord Lynwood had embarked on his dangerous course of action and felt he had to follow through.

‘I just think you seemed happier when Mrs Lovatt was in Town.’ The London Gazette his guardian had been reading rustled harshly as Anthony Brabazon clenched the first page into a ball and threw it into the fire. They both watched the flames lick high, then die down.

‘Freddie, you are young and have a romantic heart. I hope you never know it betrayed. With Lucie Carey, I think you have a fair chance of retaining your sunny view of the world. But it is not mine.’ With this, Mr Brabazon pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘If you don’t desire any breakfast, may I take my leave of you? I must go and dress.’ Lord Lynwood stood up too, not quite as tall as his guardian, but feeling his courage and independence grow.

‘Isn’t it time to close the door on the past? Why not grasp the happiness you have within reach?’ The young man turned to go.

An elegant hand stayed his progress. ‘Freddie, don’t take me for such a fool. It’s not I who refuse to grasp the happiness on offer.’ Their eyes met, Lord Lynwood shocked by the pain he saw in his guardian’s face.

‘You know, Ant, for a man who prides himself on his omniscience, you are remarkably blind. Get down to Wiltshire, won’t you?’ With that, he swung out of the door, grasped his hat from Mr Brabazon’s surprised butler and ran down the front steps, to walk quickly back across the square.

After his ward had left, Mr Brabazon slowly mounted the stairs to his dressing room. He slumped into the chair in abstracted thought. The magnificence of his dressing gown could not quite disguise the pallor of his face, the darkened eyes and sunken cheeks.