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‘Well, obviously, I need to be married and then my life can begin. And there’s no doubt that, unless a woman is independently rich, a husband with a fortune makes life very much easier and more diverting.’

‘What would you want to do with so much money?’

‘What an odd question? When it comes to money, you can never have too much. Ask your friend Mr Shilton.’ She threw herself back onto the pillows again and reached her arms wide. ‘I’d buy lovely clothes, have a beautiful house, or two, many servants and horses and handsome carriages. I’d command attention and respect and be able to throw balls and parties that would be the talk of the haut ton.’ After a pause contemplating this gratifying future as Mrs Paget, Miss Lockhart turned her head and asked in a challenging tone, ‘Why, Maddie, what would you do with money?’

‘It would indeed be wonderful to have some beautiful clothes. They make such a difference to how you feel, and how others treat you. But I would also like to have a house in the country, for orphan children.’

Henrietta scoffed. ‘That’s just a stupid, fantastical idea. But then your parents were never of this world; your mother marrying “for love” – and your father! Well, he may have been a fine musician, but what good did that do you all?’

‘I know it’s not a particularly sensible idea. But you see, I have no parents, which is grief enough, but these children we see on the streets of Covent Garden and in the alleyways and poorer parts of town don’t even have shelter and food to eat. They have no protection to rely on. It tugs at my heart to see them.’

‘Then look away. We all do. They are not our problem. I’m afraid no man of means would entertain such a crack-brained idea. They may throw a few coins to the thieving street brats as they pass, but to actually take them into a home! Any man of sense would recoil from you spouting such pious nonsense.’

Madeleine was shocked by her vehemence and blurted out in her defence, ‘Well, Mr Shilton is a man of means and not horrified by such an idea.’ She thought, with some amusement, he was probably pretty appalled by her suggestion for this new use of his dower house, but was too well-mannered to tell her so.

It was obviously a mistake to bring Mr Shilton’s name into the dispute, for her cousin sprang off the bed and harangued her. ‘Since when have you been discussing with Mr Shilton setting up an asylum for abandoned children? He’s betrothed to a very sensible woman who would not countenance such a preposterous scheme.’

Madeleine realised with chagrin that she had confided far too much to someone who was naturally hostile, and decided to back down. ‘You’re right, it’s a stupid idea, but it’s of no account as I have no money of my own, or a suitor of means, or in fact any suitor at all.’ Her voice tailed off.

Henrietta’s manner softened. ‘You’ve got too much imagination, Maddie. And too much sensibility. It isn’t good for you to nurture such madcap ideas, even as a fancy.’ As she turned to go, she added, ‘Why not cultivate the Marquess of Kintbury? He needs a mother for his children and you’d be really good at that. And he would appreciate your musicianship.’

‘I don’t think I’m the sort of woman someone like Lord Kintbury wishes for a wife.’

‘Nonsense!’ She sounded just like her mother. ‘Men are such foolish creatures and know not what they wish for or need. You have to lead him by the nose to realise you are just the kind of woman he does require to care for his children and provide him with an heir. It’s in your hands, Maddie.’ And with that, she swept out of the room, leaving Madeleine to blow out the candle and climb back into bed, praying that the wind and rain rattling against the windows outside would clear more than the air.

* * *

Ferdinand Shilton’s chaise was driven down Brook Street on his way home from the Lockharts’ soirée and his low spirits rose at the sight of the front door of the Wolfes’ house open, as servants prepared for the arrival of the family. His friends would soon be in residence and their good counsel would restore order to his unsettled world. He breathed out a deep sigh that relaxed the tension he had felt for days – their company surely would pull him back from the abyss.

He was further soothed by the merry face of Gordon, his valet, who had waited up to help him undress. Gordon’s reverence for the clothes and admiration of the physique of his master was always consoling.

His valet carried off the beautiful silver satin pantaloons to be cleaned, together with the silk stockings he insisted on washing himself, to ensure the fine material was not snagged or pulled out of shape. Then, whisking the fine linen shirt off over his master’s head, he revealed him naked and magnificent as Apollo.

In fact, he wished Mr Shilton would accept Sir Thomas Lawrence’s request he pose for the depiction of Adam, Milton’s first man, in Paradise Lost. It would be a companion piece for the painter’s monumental Satan Summoning His Legions. But his master had demurred, telling Lawrence he did not care for the notoriety that accompanied the depiction of ‘Gentleman Jackson’ as a naked, muscular Lucifer.

Gordon left his master sitting on his bed, lost in thought, as he bid him goodnight. Ferdy was mulling over the momentous events of the past two weeks. He heard a creak on the stairs and knew that Lord Flambard had returned earlier than usual. Tomorrow, he would ask him to find another friend with whom to stay and thus would remove one of the main anxieties of his current situation. With that resolve, Ferdinand Shilton slipped into bed, his mind in part relieved.

* * *

He awoke, restored to his usual lightness of being. He would be seeing Alick and Corinna later in the day and this happy thought made his universe settle back closer to its usual axis.

Sitting in the window in his dining room, a cup of coffee in his hand, he felt in need of some entertainment, so left The Times unopened and instead picked up The Sporting Magazine to catch up on the racing, hunting gossip and stories of clandestine duels, their antagonists’ names obscured to save them from the hand of the law. Ferdy idly thought it was a pity that swords were no longer the preferred weapon of combat. He was not as good a shot as he was skilled with the rapier.

Max Flambard entered the room. ‘Good morning, Ferdy, I feel like a ravening beast. Thank the devil the Shilton household provides such excellent victuals.’ He picked up a plate and carved himself several slices of ham and added a knuckle of new-baked bread.

Ferdy looked across at him speculatively. ‘Last night was a bad show, Max.’

‘I know. I’m sorry, old friend. It’s just it gets rather monotonous meeting Amelia only at night and in bed.’

‘This is my problem, Max. Your continued liaison with my future mother-in-law, deceiving her daughter as to your true identity, can only store up trouble for me and Miss Payton. You do understand we cannot go on like this?’ Ferdy’s blue eyes were uncompromising.

‘Ah, I see. You’re enacting a dishonourable discharge?’ Max gave a rueful smile.

‘Not dishonourable, rather more expedient. I know you understand why.’

‘I do. I’ve put you in a devilish position with Miss Payton and I’m sorry. The Law moves at a lame-snail’s pace and I had hoped to be master of my domain sooner than this.’

‘I would only suggest it as I know you have friends to offer you shelter who will not be as compromised by your presence as I.’