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Lady Bucklebury had sent her grooms down to Rokeby Abbey to bring back two of the Earl’s horses suitable for the young women in her charge to ride in Hyde Park. She met Leonora and Charlotte at breakfast. ‘Good morning, my dears. I always think a good ride in the Park clears the heart and mind. I have two of Rokeby’s palfreys in the stables, needing to be ridden. Would you take them out this afternoon?’ It was couched as a question but both young women knew it was closer to an order. ‘All the best of Society is on display there on a sunny afternoon.’

By two o’clock, Charlotte and Leonora were dressed in their newly embellished riding habits, and on their heads wore their smart top hats sporting plumes of feathers. They waited for the sound of hooves as the groom brought the horses round from the stables to the front door. Davy was the Bucklebury groom and was young and cheerful, dressed in livery that appeared to have been made for a bigger man. He rode up on his own chestnut horse with the reins of the two Rokeby mares for the young women. One was black and one was a grey, and both were finely built and glossy with good health.

Leonora cheered up at the sight of these magnificent animals. Her homesickness had been in part due to missing her beautiful Dione and the freedom to ride.

‘They are very fine horses. What are their names?’ Leonora asked as she descended the front steps.

Davy grinned. ‘The grey is Iris, the black mare is Minerva.’ Leonora and Charlotte were just gazing into their fine lustrous eyes, wondering which horse each should claim, when the groom said, ‘The Earl of Rokeby suggested Iris for Miss Blythe and Minerva for Miss Appleby.’

‘Well that simplifies matters,’ Charlotte said, stroking the forehead of her pretty mare before accepting Davy’s hand to help her into the side-saddle. Leonora’s heart was once more troubled by mention of Lord Rokeby’s name. And why would he designate which horse she should ride? Minerva, goddess of wisdom; was there any significance in this? She shook her head. How foolish to look for omens in every simple thing; how missish of her to let her thoughts be so dominated by him.

Davy helped Leonora mount and immediately she knew she was sitting on a lively mare who was keen for adventure. She had to rein her back as Davy, astride his chestnut gelding, led the way to the Park. Her overactive brain would not be stilled; she wondered whether it was because the Earl thought her a more experienced horsewoman that he had suggested this spirited ride for her. She knew she had to protect her peace of mind from these fruitless speculations, resolutely guarding her imagination from fearful images of Lord Rokeby embracing Claudette Dupré.

It was exciting entering at Grosvenor Gate where a crush of men and some women with their grooms were mounted on flashy steeds, chatting to acquaintances and trotting off in twos and threes along the rides radiating out towards the Serpentine and trees. Others entered the Park in a flourish, driving curricles and phaetons with their passengers beside them dressed for display in pelisses and bonnets, tigers perched behind them. The arrival of two good-looking young women on a pair of the handsomest horses to be seen in the Park caused quite a stir. Leonora had known that Lord Rokeby loved his horses and ran a large stable of the finest bloodstock, but she did not realise until now how distinguished the horses were and how much attention they attracted.

The day was bright and the afternoon sun had melted the frost from the grass, but the breath of horses and riders still wreathed in misty ribbons in the air. They were trotting in an orderly fashion when a small pack of feral dogs surrounded them. One nipped the fetlock of Charlotte’s mount. In the melee, the horse took off in fright, galloping towards a distant copse of trees. Davy immediately spurred his horse in pursuit; a bolting horse could be dangerous to itself, its rider and anyone else in the vicinity.

Charlotte struggled to suppress her fear, clinging onto the pommel to try and prevent herself being thrown out of the saddle. Iris was unresponsive to any pressure on the reins and Charlotte could only hope the horse would exhaust her primitive need for flight. Davy was just beginning to close on her when a group of horsemen loomed out of the trees ahead. One, in a red jacket, broke away and galloped towards Charlotte. He took a wide loop to enable him to ride alongside her horse and lean across to grasp the reins, pulling Iris up as he reined in his own horse. Charlotte sagged in the saddle, overcome by her ordeal. Close to tears, her voice was a sob. ‘Thank you, Captain Ormonde.’

Leonora had followed, full of concern, and she and her horse arrived at the small group. ‘Charlotte, are you all right? Do you wish to dismount and walk a while?’ Still pale, Charlotte shook her head. Leonora did not care for the proprietorial way Guy Ormonde still had hold of the reins of Charlotte’s horse.

There was the sound of a cheery hallo and three more riders cantered up. George Lockwood was in the company of Rufus and Livia Dearlove. Lord Dearlove cast a roguish glance at Charlotte and asked, ‘Was that you I saw galloping, Miss Blythe, against the express proscriptions of the Royal Parks?’

‘Sir, don’t be such a blockhead! You know Miss Blythe’s horse bolted and that her life was in danger,’ Captain Ormonde drawled.

George Lockwood wheeled his horse around and trotted up beside Charlotte. ‘I saw your headlong dash and no doubt you’re a trifle shaken up. This elegant creature isn’t your own mare though, is she?’

‘No, Lord Rokeby sent two mounts from his stable for Miss Leonora and me to ride.’

Charlotte had placed her hand on Mr Lockwood’s as if for reassurance, then withdrew it as Captain Ormonde scoffed, ‘I wouldn’t think Rokeby’s likely to have any prancers suitable for young ladies to ride. He’s known for his high-bred bloodstock, not everyday palfreys. No wonder one bolted.’

Leonora could not stay silent. ‘I completely trust the Earl’s judgement on equine matters. He would not have sent two unmanageable mounts for us. Charlotte’s horse was bitten by a dog. The reaction was to be expected.’ She leant forwards to pat Minerva’s neck as if to prove her own horse’s docility.

Lord Dearlove clapped Captain Ormonde on the back. ‘Lighten up, old friend. I have a capital suggestion. The Duchess of Hungerford’s ball next week is one of the best of the Season and I’m determined to get Miss Appleby and Miss Blythe invited.’

‘How will you do that? She’s notoriously sharp-eyed about whom she allows into the hallowed halls of Hungerford House,’ Captain Ormonde said as he released Charlotte’s horse’s reins, and she coaxed Iris to Leonora’s side.

‘I have a particular power over the Duchess.’ Rufus Dearlove’s smile was knowing. ‘She’s determined I marry her daughter and agrees to most of my requests.’

Captain Ormonde scoffed again, ‘Well, if that’s the case, she’s not going to be happy to include in her guest list two attractive young women as competition.’

George Lockwood smiled. ‘From what Lady Livia has told me, I surmise that Dearlove has his own particular means of persuasion.’

Livia Dearlove had ridden up alongside Mr Lockwood and cast him a quelling look, as if he had said more than she thought he should. She greeted Leonora and Charlotte with an elegant incline of her neck and lisped, ‘The Duchess’s balls are always very grand but rather dull affairs. She doesn’t allow card tables so the men sulk, and we women have to work all the harder to appear alluring enough for them to deign to dance and charm.’ She made a small grimace then looked up into George Lockwood’s face with a delicate pout.

He glanced at the assembled party. ‘I think we and the beasts are getting chilled; let’s head off towards the Serpentine and let our horses canter a while.’ He led the way on his hunter, with Livia Dearlove close behind and Captain Ormonde and Lord Dearlove with Charlotte and Leonora, accompanied by Davy their groom. They thundered down towards the water glittering through the birch trees.

They reined in their horses and the groups reassembled with Leonora and George Lockwood riding slightly apart. ‘Will you be going to the Duchess’s famous ball?’ she asked, rather anxious at the thought of not having his reassuring presence as a human lighthouse in a storm.

‘I will be. I’m a trifle concerned about Miss Blythe.’

This startled Leonora. ‘In what way, pray, sir? She seems to have survived the fright of her horse bolting quite well.’

‘Well, she has, although there can be a delayed shock. But I know you can watch out for that.’ His face looked troubled and he hesitated, as if he were not sure whether to confide in her. ‘I’m afraid I’m worried about something less obvious.’

Leonora put out a hand and caught his arm. ‘What? Mr Lockwood, I am here to mind her; what should I know?’

‘I’m suspicious of Captain Ormonde. He’s naturally charming and attentive but I fear he is more interested in Miss Blythe’s fortune than her happiness.’