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‘Still The Corsair?’ he asked in an amused voice.

‘Indeed. I intend to learn it.’ Then without thinking she quoted:

His heart was formed for softness – warped to wrong,

Betrayed too early, and beguiled too long.

She stopped abruptly. What had induced her to say that? She had so clearly exposed her feelings for The Corsair, and for him.

But the subject of her effusion just smiled. ‘Indeed.’ He offered his arm to escort her into the dining room and, as she laid her hand on his, he murmured,

Yet tempests wear, and lightning cleaves the rock;

If such his heart, so shattered it the shock.

There grew one flower beneath its rugged brow,

…The granite’s firmness and the Lily’s growth.

Eliza coloured. ‘You know it too?’

‘I do. When you mentioned you were enjoying the poem I determined to read it, to keep step with you, to beat with your heart as it beats, follow the story where it leads.’

Eliza felt something inside her unfurl, all tension fled. They walked into the dining room together and she felt entirely at ease, at one with another, no longer an orphan, no longer alone.

Everyone looked up. ‘Oh there you are, Rav! And you’ve found Miss Gray, too. Come and sit down. It’s haunch of venison.’ Ferdinand Shilton waved them to their seats as his best burgundy was broached and its ruby liquor splashed into rummers engraved with the Shilton crest.

‘As I’m in the position of your honorary chaperone for the night, come and sit beside me, Miss Gray.’ Alick Wolfe’s avuncular warmth was extended to her and Eliza slipped into the seat next to him while Lord Purfoy was shown to a chair on the opposite side of the table.

The talk between the men turned to last night’s gambling. Alick was ladling buttered carrots onto his plate from a dish proffered by the under-butler and called across the table, ‘Purfoy, I saw you at White’s deep in play. What time did you get to your crib last night?’

‘’Twas more like this morning.’

‘And did you win?’ Alick was intrigued by his friend’s virtuosity at the tables.

‘I’m on a prolonged mission against a dastardly foe.’

His lordship’s face was severe in the candlelight and Eliza, her imagination still full of her reading, said, ‘There was a laughing Devil in his sneer.’ She thought she had barely spoken out loud but everyone turned to look at her, not certain to what she referred.

Raven Purfoy knew and answered, ‘That raised emotion both of rage and fear.’

Their eyes met as he raised his glass, watching her intently over the rim. Ferdinand Shilton expostulated, ‘Don’t know what you’re both going on about, but luckily you seem to understand each other.’

Still looking at Eliza, his lordship said, ‘Luckily, we do.’ He put his hand on his dandy friend’s arm. ‘It’s just one of Lord Byron’s poems both Miss Gray and I have been separately reading.’

‘Well, that noble cove must know you well – laughing Devil in his sneer – he’s certainly got your humour to a T!’ His friends snorted in amusement and Eliza watched the brotherly comradeship between them. Ferdy continued, ‘I hope you’re going to beat Davenport in the race tomorrow, otherwise there’ll be no end to it.’

Eliza’s warm sense of belonging drained away as quickly as if a sinkhole had opened up in front of her, and every good thing in her life was fast disappearing into the void. She looked across at Zadoc Flynn who appeared oblivious to her moral crisis. She would have to speak to him again. She could not ride against Lord Purfoy; this was the man she loved, who seemed to return that feeling – there was no way she could be implicated in such a dastardly plan.

It was difficult to get Mr Flynn alone. The men were all intent on opening the port and discussing playing a few rounds of hazard. Eliza was tired and desperate to go to bed when to her relief, Zadoc Flynn called out to his friends, ‘I must get some coin from my luggage.’

As he left the room, Eliza slipped out after him and waylaid him on the stairs. She determined not to weaken by telling herself it was better to betray Mr Flynn and go back on her word than to betray Lord Purfoy, who mattered to her more than anything in the world, even her good name. In a steady voice she said, ‘Mr Flynn, I cannot ride Ohio for you.’

He stopped and whirled around. ‘What do you mean? Are you ill?’

‘No, I’m not ill, but I cannot in good conscience ride Ohio against Lord Purfoy.’

His colour was heightened and his look suddenly exasperated and condescending. ‘Why? Because you fancy yourself in love with the arrogant lord?’