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An effervescent joy rose in Angelica’s breast. But she suppressed the laughter in her voice as she asked with feigned nonchalance, ‘What does Mr Asprey say about this state of affairs?’

‘Oh, he’s so morose these days, he barely speaks and has become an even duller dog than he was before.’

Isobel Fitzjames chided him gently. ‘My lord, that is not fair. He’s shepherding his controversial child labour bill through Parliament. He’s preoccupied with higher things.’

‘That may be, but I think he needs to be taken in hand by a know-it-all chit whom he loves and who loves him.’ He looked across mischievously at Angelica who coloured at his words and gave him a startled glare. Was it so obvious to everyone, she wondered, and then was overwhelmed once more with her longing for it to be true. Miss Fitzjames and Dante Locke both protested at his indiscretion but he continued, ‘As you can see, I’ve been talking to my cousin, Elinor, whose matchmaking plans have turned elsewhere.’

They were just entering St James’s Park with a crush of people round the gates as Angelica slipped her arm into Dante’s. Handel, played by a distant orchestra, drifted on the breeze and she felt her heart lift with the music in airy celebration. ‘Miss Isobel and I have been watching the building of the bridge and pagoda over the Canal in St James’s Park. It’s a most impressive construction.’

‘You can see it clearly from here.’ Lord Latimer pointed to the top of the pagoda already lit up with lanterns above the trees. Angelica felt her own excitement rise. It looked so majestic and yet strange, like a deity arrived from a foreign land. It was dark now as they joined the revellers lining the Canal side, with a band playing a rousing march. The first fireworks were set off and everyone’s head craned back to watch the spangles of stars exploding into the night sky. A great sigh went up from the crowd. Deafening salvos of crackling light lit up the dark as more fireworks were set off, popping and sizzling against the shadowy trees. Scintillas of flame rained down on them all, extinguishing as they fell to earth.

Wishing to see the bridge and pagoda from a better vantage point, Lord Latimer led the way to the beginning of the construction where it spanned the Canal. They marvelled at how gaily the pagoda was painted, hanging with gas lanterns and towering above them, the centre point of a firework display emitting comets of streaking light and cascading stars.

But the light seemed to no longer be in intermittent flashes. Tongues of flames and billowing smoke were issuing from the top of the building, flickering and curling round the wooden tower. There were more cheers as people thought this was some further dramatic display but then pieces of burning wood began to break off and fall to the ground and Angelica realised the whole pagoda was going up in flames.

‘Lord Latimer, we should move away,’ she said, pulling on his arm. But at that moment she heard her name called and looking back along the bridge, she saw Elinor Asprey in her party dress waving in excitement. She seemed to break free of Miss Stafford’s hand and set off towards Angelica. In horror, Angelica watched the child brilliantly illuminated by the conflagration as she ran across the bridge.

‘No! No, Elinor! Go back, go back!’ she cried. But the girl ran on, an eager smile on her face, just as a large block of blazing wood fell at her feet and instantly set her dress alight. The crowd screamed but Angelica sprang forward and reached her first. She wrapped the skirts of her pelisse tight around the child, stifling the flames of her burning dress, and gathering Elinor into her arms, she promptly jumped into the Canal.

The cold water made her gasp. It was not deep and there were barges and other boats along the water’s length. She looked down into the girl’s shocked face. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked but before there was an answer Angelica found herself grasped in a steely grip.

‘Come, this is the best way to get out.’ She looked round into the ashen face of Ivor Asprey. He had grasped his daughter under one arm and locked his other around Angelica’s waist. They waded to the Canal edge where Lord Latimer and Miss Stafford helped pull them out. Angelica and Elinor sat on the ground as Ivor peeled back the singed fabric of the pelisse and examined his daughter’s legs. Her dress was in charred ribbons and her skin was blistered but unbroken. She was whimpering as she clutched at her father and Angelica. He encircled them both, his head bent between theirs as he whispered, ‘Oh, my darlings, my darlings. Thank God you’re safe.’ Behind them the whole pagoda was in flames and lighting up the sky with a sulphurous yellow. There was confusion as people dashed from the scene and others came to stare. Someone tried to pump water from the Canal to douse the lower flames, but all in vain.

‘Thank you, thank you.’ Ivor took both Angelica’s hands, his face full of anguish at the thought of what he might have lost.

Angelica took off her sodden pelisse, her teeth chattering, and Lord Latimer stripped off his coat and offered it to her to wear. Miss Stafford removed her pelisse and wrapped her charge in the warm dry fabric. ‘We must dress those blisters with honey and goose fat. You saved any deeper burns by precipitously leaping into the water, Miss Leigh,’ she said in her calm voice.

Ivor had already divested himself of his coat and emptied his boots of water before putting them back on and was left wearing just his linen shirt and breeches, all soaked to the skin. ‘Quickly, I must get you home and into the dry.’ Mr Digby had found Rocky, who brought the curricle into the Park in a clatter of hooves and jingling harnesses. Lord Latimer assured Angelica he would find her mother’s party and tell her her daughter was in the care of Mr Asprey and his secretary and governess and would be brought home later.

Ivor Asprey handed Angelica up into the curricle, her bonnet lost, her hair dripping wet and tumbling to her waist. He passed his daughter into her arms and she placed her on the seat between her father and herself. Then he sprang into the driving seat and with Rocky up behind, drove back to St James’s Square at speed. He looked across at his daughter and Angelica, and the harsh anguish in his face softened to a smile. ‘Miss Stafford and Digby will follow on foot.’ Angelica felt Elinor’s small cold hand creep into hers.

Once they were in the house the true danger of the conflagration struck Angelica with force and she sat down on the hall chair, feeling the spirit drain from her. She was still wearing Lord Latimer’s coat, her hair dripping on it and onto the marble floor. Mr Asprey called a maid and took his daughter upstairs to be dressed in warm dry clothes. He dispatched Goodall to the kitchens to mix up a paste of goose fat and honey ready for Miss Stafford to dress the burns.

As he descended the stairs, still wet and dishabille himself, he came to Angelica’s side. ‘Miss Leigh, you’re soaked to the skin and cold. Until Miss Stafford returns and can lend you the necessary clothes, I can offer you one of my dressing gowns. It’s essential you get out of these sodden clothes.’ As he led her to the bedroom she had used when she was so mortally ill he smiled at her. ‘You already know this house well. I’ll bring through a gown for you.’

Within a minute he had returned with a purple brocade dressing gown. ‘I’ve brought you my favourite as it’s the warmest with its ermine trim.’

Despite feeling wan, Angelica could not supress a small giggle. Her eyes widened. ‘Mr Asprey, I didn’t know you for a dandy. This is very grand.’

‘Put it on, Miss Leigh, and you will understand its charms. I’ll go and change and will see you and Elinor in the library where there is a fire already burning.’ Angelica slipped out of Lord Latimer’s beautifully tailored coat and laid it reverently on the bed then peeled off her saturated gown and chemise and stays. She slipped into the dressing gown and was grateful for its warmth as she tied its voluminous folds tightly round her waist. She was taken aback at smelling the scent of Mr Asprey rising from the silk and hugged it close, breathing it in.

Angelica did her best to dry her hair with the towel by the dressing table but had no pins to secure it so left her damp curls falling down her back. Her shoes and stockings were also sodden so she padded barefoot down the stairs to the blessed warmth of the library. Here she settled herself into the corner of the sofa, tucking her feet under the purple silk folds of Ivor’s gown.

The maid brought Elinor down, dressed in her nightdress with slippers and a woollen dressing gown. ‘Oh, Miss Leigh! I’m so glad you’re still here. But that’s Papa’s gown! It is very big on you.’ She sat down carefully on the sofa beside her.

‘Take care, Elinor, you don’t want to bump your blisters. Miss Stafford will dress and bandage them then they’ll feel better.’

‘They aren’t troubling me too much. Papa says being plunged into cold water was the best thing that could happen. Thank you, Miss Leigh.’

‘We were just lucky that we had the Canal so close.’ Angelica put her arm out and Elinor snuggled up against her on the sofa while they both watched the fire, feeling the warmth spread through their chilled bodies.

The door opened and Ivor Asprey walked in, completely transformed from the dishevelled figure who had brought them home. His clothes were once more immaculate, he had even tied a passable cravat. His dark hair was still damp and curling and his face had a softness about it as he stood and looked at his daughter, folded into Angelica’s side. He was startled to see this beauty, like a golden-haired goddess, in his dressing gown and for a moment was overwhelmed by the incongruity of her luminous presence, here in his clothes, in his library.

‘Oh, Papa. I’m so glad to be here with you and Miss Leigh. Can you sit next to me too?’ His daughter shuffled closer to Angelica to make room and when he sat down slipped her other arm through his. ‘Doesn’t Miss Leigh look well in your gown?’

Ivor looked over his daughter’s head and met Angelica’s eyes, flickering green and gold in the firelight. ‘She does indeed. But that garment could fit you both.’ He smiled.

There was a knock at the door and Miss Stafford entered, her face concerned. ‘Mr Digby and I returned as fast as we could. I’m pleased to see you, Miss Leigh, looking so well, and Elinor, thank goodness not badly burned. Come with me, missy, I want to dress those burns as soon as possible.’ She put out her hand for her charge.