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Charlotte trotted up on Iris, closely followed by George Lockwood. ‘Leonora, why the haste? His lordship is making a habit of leaving your company at speed. You seem to have an inflammatory effect on him every time you meet.’ Her expression was full of mischief.

Leonora could not reveal her mortification and managed a rueful smile, then looked at Mr Lockwood. ‘Where’s Lady Livia? We haven’t chased her away I hope?’

His expression clouded. ‘Not at all. I said I must escort Miss Blythe until you returned from your business with the Earl, and she said she had urgent matters to attend to back at Berkeley Square.’

‘Well, I have to apologise to you both.’ Leonora was shamefaced at how impetuous her behaviour had been, and how discourteous to her companions. She continued, ‘I wished to thank Lord Rokeby for the loan of these mares from his stables and I didn’t know when I would see him again.’ She did not see Charlotte and George Lockwood exchange a knowing glance but leaning forward to pat Minerva’s neck, she added, ‘I’m getting rather chilled. Would you mind if we turn for home?’

They were trotting in a sedate manner and were approaching Grosvenor Gate when they heard a cry. Turning in the saddle, Leonora saw an outlandish figure cantering towards them. She was obviously a woman, dressed in a striped coat but wearing her full skirt, divided so she could use a man’s saddle to ride astride her horse. Her long curling hair was tied back and Leonora recognised her as the woman who haunted her jealous dreams. ‘Madame Dupré!’

The Frenchwoman pulled her horse up in a flurry of gravel and grass and leapt off its back as athletically as if she were a man. She approached Leonora with her hand outstretched and a smile on her face. In her heavily accented voice, she cried, ‘Ah! Quelle coïncidence, Miss Appleby? I had seen Monsieur Alistair’s horses and hoped to find it was you.’

Leonora was surprised to be excited to see her again, and yet full of dread; although Alistair Rokeby had declared his love for her, he had never denied that Claudette Dupré was his mistress. She turned to George Lockwood and Charlotte. ‘May I introduce you to Madame Dupré. She saved the Earl’s life at Corunna. Madame, this is Mr Lockwood and Miss Blythe who both live as neighbours to Rokeby Abbey.’ They all bowed their heads in greeting. Then Leonora added, ‘Charlotte, if you’re happy to be escorted home by Mr Lockwood…’ She looked to him for a response on the matter. ‘It’s such a short ride I hope the absence of my company will not outrage any proprieties. I just need to talk to Madame Dupré.’ They waved and set off for Grosvenor Gate.

Davy put a hand up to help Leonora dismount from Minerva and then followed the women at a discreet distance, with the reins of all three horses in his hands. Leonora’s cheeks were flushed with emotion as she turned to meet Claudette Dupré’s dark eyes. ‘Madame, I did not expect to see you in London?’ Her heart was hammering at the thought that Claudette Dupré had come in the company of Lord Rokeby and was still living under his protection at Grosvenor Square. Then Leonora noticed the Frenchwoman’s mount was closer to a farm horse and not akin to the fine-boned steeds from the Earl’s elite stables.

Madame Dupré laughed in her merry, unselfconscious way. ‘Ah, I am with the new ambassadeur to the Court of King George, le marquis de La Châtre. I manage la cantine for him.’

‘So you didn’t come with Lord Rokeby’s entourage?’ Leonora could not stop herself blurting out, colouring all the more at how revealing of her deepest hopes and fears this must be.

Madame Dupré recognised her anxiety and grasped her hand with sisterly feeling, saying, ‘Miss Appleby, do not fear. Alistair is a brother for me. C’est vrai, I’ve seen him in extremis and he has no secret for me, but we are not amoureux. This is important, so how you say? We are not the lovers, I promise.’

Her frankness made Leonora gasp, but then relief flooded through her and she was suddenly dizzy with happiness. ‘Can you tell me about when you saved his life?’

‘Oh! Quel désastre! I was busy with the wounded when I see this English with his face sabred, pouring blood, his leg twisted under him. In his arms was another English, but he was close to fini. The wound of his stomach was mortal. He could not live. I gave him brandy to suffer less. But this English would not leave. “Mon frère, my brother,” he said again and again. “Leave me here with him.”’

Leonora was immersed in the vividness of the scene and she squeezed Madame Dupré’s hand with the force of her feeling. As they walked on in silence, she asked in a quiet voice, ‘How did you get Lord Rokeby to safety?’

‘We have men with carts to collect wounded and morts. They pick him up and put him with the other bodies. He was an officer, so they did not let him to die with the rest of the English but make him prisoner. He was lucky the surgeon see him and save his leg, sew his face too. Bof! Quel carnage!’ She had stopped, as if overwhelmed with the memory. ‘Then I take him to a house to be nursed.’

The clock in Grosvenor Chapel struck three and Madame Dupré was suddenly alert. ‘I must go!’ She took the reins of her horse from Davy’s hands and without help from him, swung herself up into the saddle. Looking into Leonora’s upturned face, she said, ‘Alistair, your Earl, is special. When they discover he was one of Wellington’s espions who send information back to the English, they want to shoot him, but he escape to live like a wild animal. That is when he found Achille.’ She wheeled her horse around and over her shoulder said, ‘Alistair need a special woman to love. I hope you are that one, Miss Appleby, to love him as he deserve.’ The extraordinary Frenchwoman then cantered off towards the trees.

Leonora’s heart was like the sun which had suddenly emerged from a bank of cloud. She felt her body filled with light. Surely its radiating warmth could be seen in her face? Leonora thought with gratitude of the force of nature that had arrived to upend her life. Madame Dupré had not only saved Lord Rokeby from the battlefield, she had also illuminated Leonora’s own life. Blazing like a comet from a different world, she had shown Leonora where her heart belonged. Returning today, she brought the gift of truth and clarity. Leonora knew she must hold this revelation close as she dared to open herself again to love.

Charlotte arrived home safely and unremarkably in the company of George Lockwood. ‘Well, what an eventful afternoon!’ she said to him as they pulled their horses up outside the Bucklebury mansion. Mr Lockwood jumped down from Titan then walked round to catch Charlotte as she dismounted. She slipped down into his hands, so large they spanned her waist. He held her in his warm grip and placed her on the ground with deliberate care; even then he did not hurry to release her. Charlotte looked up into his face. ‘Thank you, Mr Lockwood.’ Then she added, tilting her head, ‘Do you think love is in the air?’

Mr Lockwood’s half smile made him look as if he knew more than he was admitting. As he led her to the door he said, ‘Are you thinking of Miss Appleby and the Earl, perchance? Or more generally? It is spring after all, and the sap is rising.’ Then he turned and tipped his hat to her, sprang into the saddle and rode away into the sun, his large silhouette seeming mysterious, yet also consolingly familiar.

There was a letter waiting for her in the hall, addressed to Miss Blythe in a distinctive spiky hand she did not recognise. A mixture of excitement and anxiety gripped her as she read.

Dear Miss Blythe,

Would you do me the honour of meeting me tomorrow at Bullock’s Museum, the Egyptian Hall, in Piccadilly. At 3 p.m.

Bring a maid as chaperone rather than Miss Appleby.

Yours,

Guy Ormonde

Charlotte’s mind was reeling as she ran upstairs to her room, and cast off her bonnet and pelisse before flinging herself on the bed. Why did Captain Ormonde ask her to meet without Leonora? Was this more business to do with her father’s honour? She determined she would be independent and make her own decisions – prove herself a Rokeby in courage and spirit. Considering herself sensible and old enough to go alone, except for the necessary accompaniment of Flora, she scrawled an answering note of acquiescence, sealed it and asked Lady Bucklebury’s butler if he could arrange to have it delivered. She did not want to deceive Leonora and was relieved to hear her come in and dash straight up the stairs to the drawing room. In moments, music filled the house, a passionate interpretation of Clementi’s Etude played allegrissimo and at full volume. No one could ignore the emotion in her playing.

Mrs Priddy understood Leonora well enough to know that when she heard this cascade of notes played so emphatically, her young charge was in the grip of a tumult of feeling. She entered the room unseen and walked behind Leonora to put a hand lightly on her shoulder. The music stopped abruptly and Leonora leapt up and into her arms. ‘Oh, Nanny P, I love him, I love him!’ she sobbed. ‘I can’t believe I am saying this out loud, but my heart is too full. What am I to do?’

Mrs Priddy patted her back. ‘My love, why so anguished?’

‘Because anyone I love is taken from me. First Mama, then Captain Worth, then Papa. I’m so afraid. To love is too dangerous. There’s only you and Charlotte left.’

‘Life rushes on and can’t be stopped. We have to continue too, Nora; we cannot protect ourselves from sorrow by closing our hearts to love.’