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‘You are too charitable, Miss Leigh. Everyone has a choice, even in the most unpromising circumstances.’ Mr Asprey’s face was stern and his lips set in an uncompromising line. He abruptly changed the subject. ‘Tell me, are you employed in another play?’

‘I am. I shall be Amanthis in a silly play adapted from the French by Mrs Inchbald. You’d think she’d have known better.’

‘Why? What’s it called?’

‘The Child of Nature and I am indeed this paragon. A girl, beautiful but ignorant of the world and carefully cloistered, nurtured to please only men. Indeed only one man.’

‘It sounds provoking indeed to any young woman of sense and sensibility.’ He smiled. ‘I think even my fanciful Elinor might jib at that bit.’

‘Ah, but she’s still romantic enough about her papa to like the ending.’ She met his eyes, smiling. ‘Amanthis gives up her chance of happiness and a new life with the nobleman she loves, to live a vagabond life caring for her father who turns up unexpectedly, telling her he’s destitute.’

He laughed again. ‘I don’t think Miss Stafford would allow her to think that a good idea! That young woman has very radical ideas, you know, about the rights of women. She and my secretary are great followers of Mr Godwin. My sister and Lady Linus think it’s all dangerous nonsense and I should expel these revolutionaries within my walls!’

‘Oh, no! Miss Stafford is a wonderful young woman. She cared for me so well. And Miss Elinor loves her.’

‘Do not fear. I am enough in thrall to my daughter not to do anything so rash as to evict someone she loves.’

Angelica met his eyes and neither of them could look away, caught in a timeless moment of recognition. She felt her cheeks colour, she knew not why. Breaking the spell, she looked down at her hands then gathered her courage and said quietly, ‘She longs to see more of you, you know.’

A flash of irritation or guilt creased his brow. He looked as if he was about to say something bitter but when he did speak it was to say, ‘She’s very attached to you, Miss Leigh. She chatters about you whenever I see her. Thinks you the kindest, most beautiful creature that ever walked this earth. I would appreciate it if you did not encourage her into the theatrical profession. I have other plans for her.’

Angelica gasped. She felt his words sting like a slap across her face. She had thought him so relaxed and companionable that she had been lulled into forgetting that they were not social equals and his attitude towards her profession was almost as dismissive as his sister’s. She could not forget that the first time she met him he had attempted to buy her off, to prevent her marrying his nephew and sullying the family’s noble blood.

She got to her feet, her cheeks flushed. ‘I can assure you, Mr Asprey, I would never dream of influencing your daughter. If she were mine, I too would not want her entering my profession. Do you think I’m happy being leered at, having lewd comments shouted at me from the pit, being propositioned by rakes and stupefied sots, and treated as public property by any man who can pay the shilling for a theatre ticket?’ She paused to catch her breath and continued in a quieter voice, ‘It is exhausting. I promise you, she will get no encouragement from me.’ She walked rapidly to the door.

But Ivor Asprey was quicker. He seemed to spring from his chair with one athletic move and barred her way. He grasped her hand. ‘Forgive me, Miss Leigh. That was insufferably rude of me. Of course your kindness and charm can only do Elinor good. She is lonely, I know. It’s just that no other woman in her life, be it her aunt or’ – he paused – ‘any friend of mine, can measure up to her idea of you.’

Angelica bowed stiffly. ‘I will endeavour to be less kind and charming to her then. I’m thinking of returning to my mother’s house tomorrow, anyway, now that your and Miss Stafford’s generosity has returned me to health.’

‘Please don’t go prematurely on my account. It has been most pleasant to have you in the house. The place seems lighter and happy again. And Elinor, who is my every joy, seems to be happier too.’ His eyes, usually of the deepest, coldest blue seemed to have become brighter and warmer as he still held her hand in his. Angelica gently extracted it and felt a dull sadness well up at the thought of the gulf between them. It was hard to be treated as an outsider when for the first time she had met people with whom she longed to belong.

At least she could reassure herself that there were good things she could do in this world she was not allowed to join. The question that had been bothering her came to mind as she met his quizzical gaze. ‘Mr Asprey, there’s something troubling me.’ Clutching her hands together with anxiety at her presumption, she swallowed hard and asked, ‘I wondered if you had decided to play Hazard again?’

He met her intent gaze with a startled expression that quickly softened into amusement. ‘Why so, Miss Leigh? I know I told you I no longer gambled. But now and again, for the sake of old times or in a good cause, I might rattle the bones. Why such supposition? Is my behaviour to be interrogated, now?’

‘I apologise for my effrontery.’ Angelica was suddenly aware of how rude and arrogant she had been in first giving him advice about his daughter and then quizzing him on his gambling habits. She looked up to find Mr Asprey still waiting for further explanation. She knew she had to pursue her question to the end and in a rush of words she continued, ‘Miss Fitzjames has had her ill-fortune turned to the good by a well-wisher. Your skill, it is rumoured, matches Lord Fulsham’s and as the only other gamester who could challenge either of you is out of the country, I was left wondering about you.’

‘You seem to add detecting to your many other skills, Miss Leigh. Is there no end to your talents? But I’m afraid I will have to leave you wondering.’ He bowed and stood aside to allow her to pass.

* * *

As the clock in the hall chimed twelve, Goodall opened the front door to Mr Crowe’s knock. He was dressed more soberly in dark coat and breeches, his tricorne hat replaced with a conventional curly-brimmed beaver worn low. His distinctive auburn hair was almost obscured by hat, high collar and scarf. Angelica had been waiting with some excitement and more than a ripple of anxiety. There was so much she wanted to discover about her father and his life leading up to this unexpected arrival in her life.

Despite the bright breezy warmth of the spring day, she was dressed in her wool pelisse, made from fine broadcloth and trimmed with fur; soft kid boots ensured her feet were warm and the most fetching Leghorn straw bonnet of blue framed her face and kept her unruly hair in check. Prosper Crowe grinned at the sight of her. ‘Hardly believe me daughter has grown into such a beauty,’ he said, chuckling as he tucked her hand companionably into his arm.

It was not evident to anyone that this was father and daughter out walking and so Mary accompanied them, to keep up appearances. The small party turned south towards St James’s Park. Angelica was grateful to be out in the air and sunlight again. There had been many a moment in the last weeks when she could not imagine ever being well again and yet here she was, strolling with someone long dead to her, someone she had believed for all her adult life to be at the bottom of the sea, his bones picked clean by the fishes. She glanced up at Mr Crowe. His height and profile were striking, even though he looked as if he was in disguise. She wondered just how much danger he would be in if apprehended before he could escape back to France. A tremor of fear went through her.

‘My dear, do you think you could make an old man happy and call me Papa?’

His voice startled her from her thoughts and the words took her aback. She didn’t think of this exotic stranger as a ‘papa’, let alone the more formal ‘father’. Her mother’s protector, Mr Breville, was closer to that ideal with his easy, avuncular manner. Brunner even, had shown more concern and care than her true father had, or possibly ever would. She looked up to meet his smiling eyes, as green as her own, and stuttered, ‘I’m not sure, sir. I don’t feel I know you yet. I don’t even know your true name.’

Mr Crowe chuckled again. ‘Takes time, me dear. Two more days for you to know me better. You’re always welcome in Paris, ye know. Come and preside over my gaming tables. Your presence would make it the most fashionable and frequented club in the whole city!’

Turning as soon as they could off busy Piccadilly, they relaxed as they strolled on the grass amongst the avenues of trees. Angelica felt her chest expand for the first time as she breathed in deep the cleaner air. The cold made her cough but that merely cleared her chest further. The birdsong too was so much sweeter now that the sound of carriage wheels and shouts of the carters had receded in the distance.

Angelica knew she was truly on the mend and tomorrow would return to Mr Breville’s and her mother’s house. She felt her familiar lightness of spirit return. Grasping Prosper Crowe’s arm in a spontaneous expression of joy at being alive, she said, ‘Tell me about your club.’

‘Well, as you know, it’s called the Dionysius in Rue Richelieu, one of the best addresses in Paris. I have a master chef and offer dining and the best champagne and brandy.’ He was on the favourite topic of his success and she listened with mixed feelings.