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‘My dear ma’am, there was any number of apartments that would have been ideal if you had not insisted upon having so many servants with you.’ Gerald glanced at his audience, a merry twinkle in his eye. ‘Only imagine the task: not only had her poor clerk to find somewhere with sufficient rooms for Mama’s household, but then he was obliged to find stables and accommodation for her coachman and groom, too!’

‘Really, Gerard, do you expect me to do without my carriage?’

‘No, but you might well do without your groom. You no longer ride, ma’am.’

‘Harris has been with me since I was a child. He comes with me everywhere.’

‘I wonder if perhaps he might have enjoyed a holiday,’ observed Gerald, but his mother was no longer listening.

‘My man had instructions to find me the very best,’ she announced. ‘And I do not think he has managed so ill.’

Nathan’s attention began to wander as the ladies discussed the forthcoming arrival of the foreign dignitaries. Gerald, he noticed, was passing the time by trying to flirt with the veiled companion. While his mother’s attention was given to speculation about the Grand Duchess of Oldenburg’s latest conquest, Gerald was leaning over the side of the carriage and murmuring outrageous remarks. The poor little dab looked quite uncomfortable. Nathan tried to catch Gerald’s eye. Damnation, why couldn’t the lad behave himself? Nathan’s hand clenched on the reins. He must get out of the ridiculous habit of regarding Gerald as a boy. He was eight-and-twenty, the same age as himself, but his cousin had not served a decade in the army, an experience that Gerald declared had left Nathan hardened and cynical. It might well be the case, but it was quite clear that the little figure in the carriage was not enjoying Gerald’s attentions. He was leaning closer now, his hand reaching out towards the edge of the veil.

‘Cousin, you go too far!’ Nathan’s voice cracked across the space between them. It was the tone he had used on new recruits and it had its effect. Gerald’s hand dropped.

‘I beg your pardon,’ Nathan addressed the rigid little figure. ‘My cousin sometimes allows his humour to go beyond what is pleasing.’

She did not reply and merely waved one small hand. He threw an admonishing glance at his cousin, who immediately looked contrite.

‘Indeed, Miss Brown, Rosthorne is right; I went too far and I beg your pardon.’ Gerald directed his most winning smile towards her. ‘Well, will you not speak? Pray, madam, take pity on me: I vow I shall not rest until you say that you forgive me. Miss Brown, I beg you.’

Nathan could not but admire Gerald’s tenacity. He was—

‘I do forgive you, sir. Let us forget this now.’

His head jerked up. That voice, the melodic inflection—it struck a chord, a fleeting memory: surely he had heard it before. He stared at the lady, trying to pierce the thick curtain of lace that concealed her face.

‘Forgive me,’ he said, frowning. ‘Have we—?’

‘Forgive me, my lord,’ interposed Lady Souden with her sunny smile. ‘We are causing far too much congestion on this path. That will never do; we must drive on. If you will excuse us…’

There was nothing to do but to pull away and allow the carriage to pass.

‘Well, well, one must admit Lady Souden to be most charming,’ declared Lady Charlotte graciously. ‘She intends to hold a ball later this year. I have told her I shall attend. And you must come too, Gerald.’

Mr Appleby grinned across at his cousin. ‘Not really my line, Mama, but if you insist. What of you, Cos?’

Nathan shrugged. ‘If I receive an invitation I must go, I suppose.’ His thoughts returned to the veiled figure in the carriage. Something nagged at the back of his mind, a thought that he could not quite grasp. He said, ‘Who was the female with Lady Souden? Miss Brown. Have you met her before, Aunt?’

‘Lady Souden said she was her companion,’ replied Lady Charlotte. ‘No doubt she is some penniless relation.’ She turned to address her son. ‘And as such she can have no attraction for you, Gerald.’

‘Devil a bit!’ responded Gerald, grinning. ‘Just trying to be friendly, Mama.’

‘Better that you should remain aloof, like your cousin,’ retorted Lady Charlotte.

‘What, be as grim as Rosthorne?’ Gerald laughed. ‘Impossible! I swear his dark frown could turn the milk sour!’

Nathan allowed himself a smile at that. ‘Try for something in between, then, Cousin.’

‘Precisely.’ Lady Charlotte nodded. ‘You must remember your breeding, my son.’

As the carriage pulled away Gerald threw a rueful glance across at Nathan. ‘When am I ever allowed to forget it?’

‘So. It is done. I have met him.’

Felicity closed the door of her little bedchamber and leaned against it. Her legs felt very unsteady, so much so that she dare not even attempt to walk across the room to her bed. She closed her eyes. Nathan’s image rose before her, so familiar, so dear. She had studied him closely while the two carriages were stopped. In profile she thought him even more handsome than when they had first met, his face leaner, his look more serious. Even when she saw again the scar across the left side of his face she was no longer horrified by it. She was thankful the dreadful disfigurement did not seem to have affected his sight; his eyes were as keen as ever and for a moment she had quailed beneath her thick veil, convinced that he would recognise her. Even worse than the fear of detection was the fierce disappointment she had known when he had addressed her; he was clearly unaware of her identity and his indifference hit her like a physical blow.

‘But it is done,’ she said again. ‘Now I have seen him I know what to expect, I am prepared.’

However, being prepared did not prevent her from feeling slightly sick when Sir James announced cheerfully that she would be required to accompany his wife to Lady Somerton’s later that night.

‘I know I promised to attend, but I have fallen behind with drawing up my plans for Tsar Alexander’s arrival in London—I gave my word that I would report to Carlton House tomorrow morning.’

‘Then you must remain here and finish them,’ replied Lydia calmly. ‘But there is not the slightest need for Felicity to come with me: Lady Somerton is such an old friend…’

Felicity felt Sir James’s eyes upon her and she said immediately, ‘There is nothing I should like more than to go with you, Lady Souden.’

Lydia blinked. ‘You would?’

‘Of course,’ Felicity lied valiantly. ‘You will recall you showed me Lady Somerton’s invitation and said she hoped that Lord Byron would be there and would read for her.’

‘But I thought you disliked Byron,’ objected Lydia.

‘His style of living, perhaps,’ Felicity persisted. ‘His poetry is quite—quite impressive.’

Her friend looked at her in surprise. Felicity maintained her calm, aware that Sir James was also regarding her, but with approval, and she drew some comfort from this as she ran upstairs after dinner to change her gown. And what if Nathan should be there? Felicity knew this question would be on Lydia’s lips as soon as they were alone together. She had no answer, and could only pray that the earl was not a lover of poetry.

Lady Somerton’s tall, narrow town house was crowded and noisy. Felicity followed Lydia as she swept up the stairs to the main reception rooms, ostrich feathers dancing, and was immediately surrounded by her friends and acquaintances. Felicity stayed very close. In her plain grey gown she elicited barely a glance from the gentlemen vying for the beautiful Lady Souden’s attention and no glance at all from the matrons who came up to claim acquaintance with one of the most fashionable personages of the ton.