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I hope to arrive with the auspicious New Moon.

And he signed it flamboyantly with his nickname, Flash.

Ferdy Shilton folded the letter and was thoughtful as he strolled round to the mews. Max Flambard had been at the centre of one of the greatest Society scandals some ten years previously. He was barely twenty years old when he was caught in flagrante with Captain Payton’s wife and challenged to a duel by this eminent officer of the King’s Hussars. As a gentleman – indeed a nobleman – Lord Flambard could not refuse a soldier of unimpeachable honour who demanded that honour be restored. Ferdy was grateful he was not Max Flambard’s Second in the ensuing duel, but he recalled something he had long wished to forget; the panic and horror when, early one misty morning, news had leaked out that the cuckolded captain had been shot through the heart.

All Lord Flambard’s friends regretted that the young Lothario was not as skilled a marksman as he was a keen lover; an experienced duellist knew to aim for an arm to inflict a light flesh wound and honour was thus served. But death by duelling pistol was murder and the man he had killed was a member of an elite regiment of hussars. Being quickly smuggled into exile and the Crown’s confiscation of the Flambard estates followed, as surely as night follows day.

Much as Ferdy Shilton delighted in his old friend’s reversal of fortune, allowing him home at last, he realised the return of the prodigal to the Shilton bosom created problems for himself in his courtship of Miss Payton. The cruelly widowed Mrs Payton had been adroit at playing the wronged, grief-stricken wife and somehow evaded blame for her part in the sorry tale. Through her deft machinations, she and her daughter, Hester, ten years old at the time, were offered much sympathy and patronage and within a year, were fully restored to Society’s favour.

The income Mrs Payton received from her husband’s royal pension, together with the rentals of one of the confiscated Flambard estates awarded in compensation, had allowed her to live this last decade in the rarefied echelons of the haut ton. Ferdy realised that the return of Flambard would remind everyone of the old scandal and thereby put the Paytons’ discreet propriety in jeopardy.

He was due to meet Miss Payton and her groom at the Serpentine and, still deep in thought, Mr Shilton rode his best hunter, Avatar, out of the mews and towards the park. Miss Rose was not at home to see him pass. Much to his irritation, the image of the surprising little dormouse debutante he had danced with the previous night had invaded his dreams. Little did he know that this distracting creature lived in the row of grand houses on Grosvenor Street, his usual route to Grosvenor Gate.

The afternoon sun had turned warm and threatened to get warmer. The previous summer had been so calamitous that many predicted the world was coming to an end; any sign of sunshine was now welcome. Mr Shilton rode through the knots of riders and pedestrians congregated under the trees, greeting acquaintances, chatting to friends, and eyeing any attractive strangers and their horses who might be in view. Hyde Park on a sunny afternoon, even as the Season was drawing to a close, was awash with summer, a great outdoors drawing room of entertaining sights, clandestine trysts and subjects for gossip.

He passed through the mêlée, distinguished by his charming demeanour, elegant clothes and grace in the saddle. The excellence of his horses always attracted attention from the cognoscenti. Ferdinand Shilton was hailed by men and women alike, and tipped his hat, not stopping to exchange even a few words, reluctant as he was to keep Miss Payton waiting. Soon he was trotting Avatar towards the water, where more riders congregated in twos and threes.

He saw Hester Payton before she saw him and approved her neat pretty figure, dressed most properly in a black riding habit that set off her blonde beauty to perfection. As he approached, he thought how well she always dressed, what an attractive and admirable wife she would make.

It was her groom who noticed him first and drew his horse alongside his mistress to murmur a few words. She glanced up, saw him and raised a small gloved hand in salute.

Ferdy Shilton swept off his hat as he approached and bowed. Then, taking her proffered hand, he raised it to his lips. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Payton.’

‘Good afternoon, Mr Shilton.’ She looked up at him through her lashes, and although he was too experienced in the art of flirting to think it unaffected, he was nevertheless a little charmed by how such a glance showed off the attractive alignment of her nose and brow.

They set off towards a copse of trees away from the crowds and there Mr Shilton dismounted and walked across to his companion to offer his hand. Miss Payton gracefully unhooked her uppermost knee from the pommel and, in her heavy, voluminous skirts, slipped down her mare’s side to be caught fleetingly in his hands. He found it surprisingly affecting to feel the warmth of her flesh and blood beneath his fingers and realised that even the most determinedly rational mind could be confused by the unbidden senses. It was as if some hapse on the fastening of his self-control had slipped a notch.

As they walked in the dappled shade, Ferdy Shilton recovered his equilibrium while Miss Payton chatted brightly about the weather. Her groom followed at a discreet distance with the horses. Suddenly, the young woman turned to her companion with a small frown. ‘Mr Shilton, one of my friends, part of the Carlton House set, has told me that His Highness the Prince Regent intends to pardon some of the English felons currently in exile in Paris. She said this largesse would extend to debtors, but also to the men who escaped the law after killing an opponent in a duel.’

The air between them vibrated, while her companion waited to hear the extent of her concern.

She continued. ‘I know that the man who killed my father was a friend of yours.’ She looked up expectantly and, as Ferdy Shilton nodded, hurried on, ‘Perhaps you can appreciate how awkward it would be for my mother and for me if your friendship continued?’ Her usually serene face was tense, her blue eyes searching his.

They walked on a few more steps and eventually he answered her in a low voice, so her groom would not hear. ‘My dear Miss Payton, I do appreciate your dilemma and the niceness of your feelings on the matter. It is a sorrow to me that such a tragedy ever occurred. It is indeed terrible to lose your father in such a manner.’

‘I was young and barely knew him as Papa, he was away at war so much. But I’m sure you can understand the emotions, the shame, that engulfed the household. Mama was beside herself.’

‘I can indeed. And I do appreciate how Lord Flambard’s return to these shores risks awakening past memories. But a man’s friends are like his honour and cannot readily be cast aside.’ He paused and saw Miss Payton’s mouth become stubborn as she realised the force of what he was saying.

‘Are you telling me, Mr Shilton, that a man who is disgraced and deemed a murderer in the eyes of the law nevertheless retains your friendship, even at the cost of the peace of mind of myself and my mother?’

Ferdinand Shilton did not speak, how could he now tell her that the miscreant would be living with him for a short while until he could return to his own estates? In what he hoped was a gesture of reassurance, he patted the hand that was tucked into his arm, but was disconcerted to have it quickly withdrawn.

Miss Payton said crossly, ‘I do not pretend to understand the male mind and its emphasis on honour at all costs.’

‘Indeed. We are unaccountable creatures. But I hope you can forgive us such lapses in civility.’ He was smiling, but she was not. She was a woman without much sense of humour, but principled and with an uncompromising intelligence. His character was sympathetic and accommodating and he had thought it no bad thing to have a partner in life who held the line.

They remounted their horses. Mr Shilton met her eyes and said, ‘Shall we let our animals stretch their legs and canter to that farthest stand of trees?’

When they finally reined in their horses, Miss Payton was pink-cheeked and a little breathless. He looked at her, struck afresh with how pretty she was, but also how there was nothing about her that disturbed his blood. This natural coolness between them had contributed to his puzzlement over the perturbation he had felt momentarily as his hands held her waist. Were his senses, so long held in check, attempting an uprising? What an alarming thought.

Miss Payton was attractive to him as a wife for the very reason that his mind met hers in a realm unsullied by sentiment; he did not now wish to fall in love with her, or anyone. And, most pressingly, he hoped she was not now going to get a wild bee in her bonnet and become difficult over his friendship with Lord Flambard. Unaware of his momentary doubt, Hester Payton smiled at him as they wheeled their horses to trot towards Grosvenor Gate and from there to her mother’s home in South Audley Street.

Miss Payton put out her gloved hand to him. ‘Thank you, Mr Shilton, for such an enjoyable afternoon.’ Then, glancing up through her lashes in her customary manner, she continued with sweet reason, ‘My apologies for mentioning such a distressing subject, but I know a gentleman of your refined sensibilities will give consideration to what I’ve said.’ She smiled and followed her groom into the mews.

* * *

In the Lockhart mansion in Grosvenor Street, Madeleine Rose was in the small sitting room surrounded by a mound of sewing. She was not a keen or competent needlewoman, but she knew that the only way to improve her rather meagre wardrobe was through her own efforts. Her grandmother had provided her with monthly pocket money with which she managed to buy trimmings, ribbons, beads and cheap lining fabric to refurbish Miss Lockhart’s old gowns.