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‘I fear the irresponsible are easier to love,’ she said with a rueful smile.

He grasped her hand. ‘Your care for me, for our children, for everyone in your orbit just makes you more desirable. I love you more than life, Corinna. My idea of paradise is to have you in my arms, pregnant with new life, with baby Emma beside us.’

She threw back her head and purred with pleasure. ‘Well, I love you, darling Alick.’ Then she added with a laugh, ‘But I have no intention of being permanently with child, I assure you.’

She was still laughing as he pulled her back into bed. He buried his hands in her hair while gazing at her lovely face. ‘That may well be so, Mrs Wolfe, but we both know you positively enjoy the hurly-burly of the marriage bed.’

‘Oh Alick, shame on you!’ She gave him a playful push and made as if to get up.

Undeterred, he put out his hand. ‘Come, we have a few more moments left to us to be irresponsible.’ Her protestations petered out as their lips met in their familiar embrace.

Maybe Corinna would have been less carefree had she known that Eliza Gray had early that morning tiptoed out of the house wearing breeches and Ferdy Shilton’s schoolboy jacket and Eton hat.

Eliza had woken as dawn was breaking. Her pulse immediately quickened as she remembered the adventure that lay ahead. There would be so many fine horses to see and perhaps even to ride. She dressed hurriedly in the borrowed breeches and shirt. She could only really judge a horse’s movement if she rode astride but was aware she had to maintain her boyish masquerade as there was always room for scandal if a young woman was detected in such a disguise. She was slightly built and the clothes fitted well enough, but her long hair was a problem. She quickly wove two thick plaits and coiled and pinned them on her head before clamping them under Ferdy’s old top hat.

Eliza glanced at herself in the glass and thought she looked quite passable as a young man. She felt liberated to be free of the encumbrance of skirts and ran round to the mews feeling as light as a gazelle. She found Taz had saddled up his own hunter and was just about to put the side saddle on Clio. When he saw Eliza, his knowing eyes widened and he chuckled. He had last seen these clothes on Corinna when she was a slip of a girl and could carry off the disguise. He ducked back into the saddlery to bring out a regular saddle which he secured on Clio’s back.

They heard the clop of hooves on the cobbles and Zadoc Flynn appeared from the neighbouring Wolfe mews, sitting high on his big hunter. His expression registered surprise at the sight of Eliza in masculine clothes and his blue eyes gleamed. She said brusquely, ‘If you want me to give my opinion, I have to ride the beast astride.’ She then sprang up into the saddle as lightly as Taz himself.

Taz led the way. ‘We’d best go across the Park. Head for the turnpike.’ It was so early that only tradesmen’s carts were on the streets, the boys scampering up and down the basement steps of the big houses, delivering meat, vegetables and flowers brought in daily from the market gardens surrounding the city.

Once they entered the Park they rode through the trees where mist still lay in drifts like sea-foam across the wet grass. Mr Flynn could not contain the excitement in his voice. ‘Tattersalls must have quite an area to stable the horses and provide an exercising ring.’

Taz grunted in reply, ‘Mr Tattersall has as much space as the Horse Guard Barracks just down the road.’

Eliza rode Clio up to Zadoc who seemed disconcerted by the sudden sight of her slender thigh beside his, clearly outlined in breeches. She asked in a low voice, ‘Does Lord Purfoy know you’ve borrowed Taz for the morning?’

‘He does, but didn’t appear too enthusiastic about it. I don’t think he approves of me.’

Eliza said in an amused voice, ‘He doesn’t approve of anyone apart from Taz. Oh, and he has a sneaking regard for Mrs Wolfe.’

Mr Flynn gave her a sidelong look. ‘I don’t think the noble gentleman is aware I’ve asked you to give your opinion too. No doubt I’ve flouted some central rule of English etiquette.’

‘Well, Mr Flynn, I know you care little for that! But really, I’m as much an outsider as you. Just as uncouth.’

‘That’s not true at all. It’s clear you’re an English lady, despite everything.’

Taz heard this last exchange and never one to stand on ceremony, or show due deference, added his pithy opinion. ‘Yon Miss Gray’s more than a lady, sir. None I know can ride like ’er or dismount a steed with an acrobat’s tumble.’

‘Thank you, Taz, for revealing my shame.’ She was laughing and then caught sight of Mr Flynn’s surprised expression. ‘You see how uncouth I truly am!’ They had just turned down Grosvenor Place and there facing them was Tattersalls Horse Repository, painted in large black letters over the entrance. Inside was a spacious half-covered yard with a stone rotunda and the stables all facing inwards, some with the heads of their curious occupants surveying the activities around them. Stable boys were busy cleaning out the straw and preparing the mounts to ride out for exercise.

A smartly dressed man in a dark coat and tall top hat greeted them, introducing himself as Mr Tattersall. Mr Flynn dismounted and shook his hand. He passed over a letter of credit from Drummonds Bank and the man visibly paled at the sight of the guarantee of such a significant sum of money. He gazed on the party of Mr Flynn, Eliza and Taz with renewed respect. Their mounts were taken to be stabled while Mr Tattersall summoned his best horses to be made ready for the parade.

Eliza was filled with excited wonder at the sight of so many stables and as many fine horses under one roof. Her heart ached for Percy. She did not expect him to miss her as acutely as she missed him, but could not believe she would never see him again.

Mr Flynn approached Taz and Eliza. ‘I’d be grateful if you could look out for the physical conformation of the beast that would suggest his athleticism and speed. Good temperament matters too. Don’t know how Lord Purfoy manages his prize hunter. So strong-willed and contrary.’

Taz sprang to the horse’s defence. ‘Horatio is more intelligent than most coves. Just mirrors my lordship’s temperament. He’s perfectly docile when handled with respect. I’ve never known him cantankerous.’

‘Well, I admit he’s the handsomest beast I’ve seen, and beauty matters too, but is not more important than physical prowess. I want a horse that can win the Epsom Derby.’

Mr Tattersall returned with a stable boy leading a high-spirited bay on a long rein and they watched as he put the horse through his paces in the manège. Mr Flynn shook his head. The next, a dashing black stallion, arrived in the arena, bucking and cavorting, refusing to do what he was asked even when the whip was flourished. Eliza felt her spirit flow out to the beast, but Mr Flynn shook his head again emphatically.

They inspected another five, all stallions, but none caught Mr Flynn’s eye, or indeed made either Taz or Eliza feel a frisson of excitement. Mr Tattersall seemed increasingly desperate as he saw the chance of a rich profit recede. He went to prepare his last offering, then led into the courtyard an elegant but lightly boned animal, not big but coiled with energy, dun in colour. And a mare.

Zadoc Flynn was tetchy. ‘I said I wanted a stallion,’ he grumbled.

‘You said you wanted a horse that was fleet of foot,’ Mr Tattersall said mildly. ‘This is a mare I was keeping back for the Duke of Beaufort.’ This nugget of information silenced any further doubts.