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He watched her with an inscrutable expression. ‘I can’t think of a nicer dream,’ he said in his equable way. ‘But shall I call in Mary to chaperone you?’

Angelica was about to stand up. ‘No, no, I should be on my way.’

Ivor walked towards the fire. ‘May I pour you a brandy? I am in great need of a glass myself.’

Angelica hesitated, then smiled and took the proffered glass.

She sat down again. ‘How is the bill progressing?’

He sank into his chair, sighed and closed his eyes as he stretched his legs towards the fire. ‘I’m afraid there are too many vested interests. It’s frustrating progress. But I have to keep hammering on the door until it begins to open. Just a chink will do.’ They sat, sipping their brandy and gazing into the fire, both aware of a vibrating energy in the space between them.

‘I might not see you tomorrow when I leave but I do want to thank you for your care and that of Miss Stafford’s. I don’t know how I would have managed alone in Berkeley Square.’

He was looking at her over the rim of his glass. ‘It has been our privilege. You will be missed.’

The tension of their unexpected intimacy eased, replaced by easy silences filled with their own thoughts. Angelica was thinking of her father and the complexity of feelings still to be unravelled. She met Mr Asprey’s eyes, narrow and watchful in the flickering light. ‘I was walking in St James’s Park with my father when Lord Latimer and Dante Locke rode up and joined us.’

He shook his head. ‘Those young dandies need an occupation to better employ that excess energy.’

‘Well, Mr Locke is writing poetry. He thinks he needs an oriental adventure to inspire him.’ Ivor Asprey sighed, a long-suffering expression on his face. She continued, ‘Your nephew said you’d offered your country house for his party, as it’s closer to London than his own family seat.’

‘Cloudberry Court is an easy coach ride from Mayfair.’ He seemed less than enthusiastic. ‘He’s a spoilt boy and can be very persuasive.’ He was gazing into the fire and Angelica wondered if he was thinking of how Lord Latimer had pressed him into taking her in against his better judgment. He looked up with a rueful expression. ‘It is my sister’s ball, I’m afraid, I’m just offering use of my house. I have no say over her guest list.’ Their eyes met and the meaning of his words was clear.

Angelica nodded. ‘I do realise that the Duchess of Arlington is unlikely to extend a welcome to me, or women like me, at her son’s party.’

He put out a hand but did not touch her. ‘Miss Leigh, I may have treated you with scant respect when I first met you. I apologise. I have grown to esteem you greatly and am sorry for my old prejudices and discourtesy.’

‘I understand that a careful mother wants the best for her only son.’

‘A prideful mother!’ His exasperation burst forth and he drained his glass and looked for a moment as if he was about to fling it into the fire. After a while his sanguine manner had returned and he said, almost to himself, ‘Who can know what’s for the best?’ He leant across to pour himself another glass of golden liquid and then drained it in one draught.

Angelica rose to her feet. She folded the shawl and picked up the first volume of Waverley. ‘May I borrow this?’

He was standing beside her, turning the book over in his hands, his thumb stroking the gilded, banded spine. ‘Of course. Come back for the other two volumes when you need them.’

‘I wish you restful sleep, Mr Asprey.’

‘Do you not require dinner?’

Angelica shook her head. ‘Thank you, but no. I’m tired. I’ve a busy day tomorrow.’

‘I hope you sleep well too, Miss Leigh. And fare thee well. In all your endeavours.’ His face was serious in the candlelight as he escorted her to the door. Just as she turned to go, he caught her hand, turned it over, unfurling her fingers, and then pressed her palm fleetingly to his lips. Taken unawares by the intimacy of the gesture, Angelica felt a prickle of excitement and her eyes widened. With a small intake of breath she said, ‘Mr Asprey!’ Then, as he released her hand, added, ‘I must go.’

Ivor Asprey too was surprised by his uncharacteristic action. He was troubled by the cracks appearing in his hard-won control, and resisted what was stirring in his heart. This was the young woman his nephew loved and wished to marry and he felt some shock at trespassing into that emotional terrain. With what mysterious magic had she unsettled his life and sent a tremor through his family? He watched Angelica climb the stairs then returned to his favourite room that now seemed bereft.

7

MUST LIFE MIMIC ART?

The following morning the Asprey mansion bustled with activity as the master of the house left soon after breakfast for his weekly shooting practice at Manton’s Gallery in nearby Davies Street. Angelica and Mary packed, making ready to return to Berkeley Square, and Elinor Asprey and Miss Stafford attempted to conjugate some irregular Latin verbs in the schoolroom. The girl’s attention, however, was elsewhere; she listened for the sound of the family chaise arriving at the front of the house to convey Angelica home. Hearing the wheels rumble over the cobbles, she leapt from her chair to run down the stairs and bid Angelica a tearful farewell.

The coachman had just stowed away the last of the portmanteaus when Elinor noticed a coach, large as a ship, sway into St James’s Square from the direction of Pall Mall. It was distinctive both for its size and the large gold crest on the door. ‘Quick, Quick! Miss Leigh,’ she cried, ‘the Duchess is about to visit. Don’t let her see you here!’

Shyly leaning into Angelica for a last embrace, she watched her new-found friend and her maid bundle themselves into the Asprey chaise and the horses spring away, turning smartly out of the Square at Charles Street, thus avoiding the approaching ducal carriage. Elinor then bounded back inside the house and found Miss Stafford standing in the hall. ‘Aunt Edwina is about to arrive. She’ll have some scold for me, I’m sure. Pray tell her I’m indisposed.’

Miss Stafford caught her arm and said severely, ‘Elinor, you know I can’t tell your aunt untruths. Find your courage, my dear, and your good manners. She’s probably hoping to see her brother and won’t be concerned with you.’

‘She pokes her nose into everything,’ her charge muttered.