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‘I have friends whose town mansion is in Brook Street, where Mrs Wolfe presides over the household. She is a sensible woman who will give you shelter until your head heals and your memory returns.’

Eliza’s nervousness was not allayed; surely this was very presumptuous of him? They were approaching Grosvenor Square and she looked up anxiously. ‘How do you know Mrs Wolfe will be happy to give me lodging when you haven’t asked her?’

His lordship looked smug as he drew his horses up in front of a grand porticoed house, the windows dark. ‘The Wolfes are old friends of mine and I know they’d do anything for me, as I would for them.’

‘But at this impious hour?’

Taz had leapt to the ground to take the horses’ heads and Lord Purfoy climbed down from his seat and walked round to help Eliza. He dismissed her worries with an airy, ‘This is a household cursed with a brawling brat. I doubt they ever sleep!’ He took her hand and watched her closely as she reeled a little, unsteady on her feet. ‘Take my arm,’ he said brusquely as he led her up the steps and knocked gently. They waited. He knocked again, more insistently, and the large black door opened just a crack to reveal a bleary-eyed kitchen boy. ‘Please tell Gibbons that Lord Purfoy is here on an urgent matter.’ They entered to stand in the grand hallway with only a lit candlestick to illuminate the cathedral darkness. In the shadows, its serpentine sweep of staircase rose to the left from the black and white marble floor, and a painting of a handsome gentleman in court clothes of the previous century dominated the opposite wall.

Eliza had never set foot anywhere so imposing in her life and for the second time that night, her spirit quailed at the thought of what a wild plan her dash for freedom was proving to be. She had always thought she would make her own way in the world and not impose on others, and here she was about to be a huge imposition on a stranger. She glanced sideways at Lord Purfoy who seemed to be much more sanguine than she.

A genial elderly gentleman emerged from the kitchen staircase just as a tall man walked out from an upstairs room, wearing a brocade dressing gown, and descended the stairs. ‘Raven! What the devil! Do you know the hour, man?’ Alick Wolfe’s words were full of exasperation but his eyes were friendly, and when they alighted on Eliza, they widened at her outlandish appearance. ‘Who’s the young lady? And why injured?’ With his face full of concern, he came forward to look at her wound.

‘This is Miss Mysterious, a young woman whom I ran over on the street.’

His friend suppressed a smirk as he said under his breath, ‘Surely not, Rav? You, the great Corinthian, most skilled driver of us all?’

Lord Purfoy cast him a quelling look. ‘She seems to have lost her memory and can only recall her first name, Eliza.’

Mr Wolfe took her hand. ‘I am pleased to meet you, Miss Eliza. My name is Alick Wolfe; Mrs Wolfe is asleep upstairs.’ He then looked at his friend. ‘I see your dilemma, Rav. You cannot nurse the young lady at your house. I’m sure Cory will be more than happy to offer her sanctuary until her memory is restored.’ Eliza met his humorous brown eyes and knew here was someone she could trust.

Gibbons had just received her valise from Taz and came forward. ‘Shall I get Polly to make up the Chinese bedroom for the young lady?’ he asked his master. ‘And Polly can then clean the wound.’

Held in the hand of this benign household, Eliza felt safe for the first time and the tension ebbed from her body. She was overtaken by exhaustion, and sudden hunger too, but dared not ask for any more indulgence. Before following Gibbons and her luggage upstairs, she turned to the two friends and said, her voice faltering, ‘Thank you, Mr Wolfe, and you, my lord. This is more kindness than I could ever expect.’ She sank into the low curtsey she had been taught to give at the end of her performance and was disconcerted by the surprised amusement in the men’s eyes.

‘Come Rav, let me get you a drink. You look hollowed out.’ Alick led his friend into the library where the embers had burned low. As they sat either side of the fireplace, he asked, ‘Well?’

Lord Purfoy stretched his long legs out and sighed. ‘I was driving too fast and foxed. Taz tried to stop me but I thought my wits were sharp enough. It seems Taz was right.’ He then sat forward, his eyes looking haunted in the firelight. ‘I was deadly afraid I’d killed her, Al.’ His expressive hands were clasped so hard together his fingers had turned white. ‘The sight of her, apparently lifeless in the road, brought back memories I’d long struggled to forget.’

Alick touched his arm in concern. ‘Rav, why so distressed? She’s fine.’

‘I know. When she opened her eyes, I was overwhelmed with relief that this time, Fate was kind.’

Alick steered his friend’s thoughts back to the present. ‘So, who is she? And what’s the chit doing out so late? Running away?’ Alick Wolfe’s eyes were troubled.

‘That’s what I presume. She had in her hand a rough sketch of a map with a starting point from south of the river and it seems Mistress Burridge’s abode in St James’s Place as a destination.’ Both men frowned, their eyes meeting. ‘She hoped that lady would find her employment as a maid in a noble house. We, of course, know better. So obviously I could not deliver an innocent to that door.’ Lord Purfoy gazed into the embers so intensely it seemed he was willing them to break into flames once more.

‘No, certainly, Rav. But do we know she’s innocent? I’m welcoming her into the heart of my family, after all.’

‘She’s not as disreputable as she looks. Taz – who knows everything, as I have learned to my cost over the years – surmised from her map that she may have run away from the circus at Astley’s.’

‘Dammit, Rav, the circus! It attracts all kinds of scapegraces and scandal!’

His lordship shook his head. ‘There’s something about her that is different. She can talk like she’s gutter-born but also knows how to talk like a lady. She loves horses, so that’s halfway to being a Trojan, don’t you think?’ He smiled. ‘Taz says she’s used to horses; she certainly approved of the smell of him!’ Both men laughed heartily and quaffed their brandy, and as the liquor warmed his spirit, Raven Purfoy’s composure was restored.

Alick looked at his friend with a keen eye. ‘I can see that having run her down, you couldn’t leave her on the roadside.’

‘Aye, there’s the rub. As Taz pointed out, she’s my responsibility until we really know who she is and where’s she’s from.’ He stood up to leave. ‘I really am grateful, Al. I knew I could count on you, and especially on your redoubtable wife.’

‘Well it’s lucky you live next door. I don’t have far to go to complain, should this all turn out to be a very bad idea indeed!’

Eliza was given a candle and followed Gibbons and his lamp up the wide staircase past the first-floor drawing room, dark with shadows, and what must be the master bedroom, its door slightly ajar, and on to the second floor. In the dimness she could make out the ancestral portraits hanging on the walls, their eyes watching her in the flickering flame. She felt such an imposter. How could she lie to these generous people? But equally she knew she could not return to her old life having tasted even this small, if rather alarming, sip of freedom. Gibbons led her into a room that seemed palatial in the swooping arc of his lamp. The walls had a ghostly tracery of twining vines and birds and the high, canopied bed dominated the centre of the room. A young maid was turning back the sheet and a steaming jug of water waited for her on the dressing table.

‘This is Polly and she will help deal with your wound. I hope you sleep well, miss.’ Gibbons bowed and left the room. Eliza sat down in the chair by the looking glass and saw her reflection for the first time. She gasped in shock. What a disgrace she was, her face grimy, her flaxen hair grey with dirt, and dark red at the crown with dried blood. Her clothes had always been workaday but now they were stained with the mud and dust of the road. She looked like a beggar-girl and felt ashamed. What had Mr Wolfe and Lord Purfoy thought of her? She was amazed to be given this beautiful room and not just a cot above the horses in the mews.

Polly straightened the quilt and came to stand beside her. Eliza was embarrassed to be offered the services of a maid who had been woken from her bed, and gazed uncertainly into the young woman’s sleepy blue eyes. But Polly’s charming, scrubbed face and friendly manner put Eliza at her ease, grateful for her care examining her head. ‘Lawks, miss! What a mess. Lucky it’s not bleeding any more.’ With a damp cloth she began to dab delicately at the dried blood in the surrounding hair, careful not to disturb the healing wound.

‘Thank you, Polly. Can you tell me how large the cut is?’