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‘Sleep with Gem and the horses? Mama, can I?’

‘No, Nurse needs you to sleep with her. I want you here too so you can get into bed with me in the morning and help me drink my chocolate.’ She ruffled his golden curls.

Lucie thought she would change into one of the confections they had made themselves, out of sky-blue muslin and organdie trimmed with ivory ribbons, and see if Lady Godley would consider it up to snuff. Sybella decided on one of her new dresses made at the last moment by Madame Dupont in a rather fetching pale primrose batiste. The sisters met on the landing and eyed each other appraisingly. ‘I think we will do, Lucie. We make a striking pair.’ They linked arms and proceeded down the stairs and into the drawing room to meet the critical gaze of Lady Godley.

‘What an improvement, my dears!’ She greeted them with a delighted clap. ‘Come in and sit down. Let’s plan your visit.’ Her bird-like frame was dressed in a beautiful lilac crepe gown with ruffles and tucks around the hem, but her bony figure barely filled the bodice and she wore a gauzy pelerine of gold organza over her thin shoulders and arms.

Lucie glanced down at her own simple attire. ‘Godmama, can you tell me if this dress looks provincial or, worse still, home-made?’

‘It’s not the height of the ton, but it’s charming. It’s not a fair world, I’m afraid. Beauty or fortune carries the day. You have the beauty and I the fortune, so there’s every chance we’ll succeed, venustas et aurum, ambo loquuntur.’ She chuckled. Noticing Lucie’s puzzled expression, Lady Godley chattered on, ‘Apologies for the Latin, it just means both beauty and wealth talk. My dears, I do like a challenge. But Lucie, don’t tell anyone your dress is home-made. You’re entering a world of artifice and it doesn’t do to be too honest about your modest situation.’ Then she spontaneously grasped both Sybella’s and Lucie’s hands and led them to the sofa. ‘What a mercy your family is a noble one.’

The sisters shared dismayed glances. They were rather cast down by this unvarnished assessment of their attractions. Lady Godley was busy pouring out some glasses of ratafia and sat down next to them with her leather-bound journal and a pencil. ‘I think I should throw a little soirée to introduce you, Lucie, to a select few. It’s still early in the Season and we may be fortunate and get one or two of the more fashionable to attend, for at least a short while.’ She began to write names down in her looping handwriting. ‘I have quite a few acquaintances I could invite with sons and daughters your own age. Do you know anyone who might be in Town in the next week or so?’

‘No, Lady Godley, Augusta. I’m afraid I was last in London when Mama was alive and now know no one here, apart from you.’

‘Yes, we do, Bella, our neighbours!’

‘Ah, yes, at the end of last year we met the owner of the estate next to ours, Mr Brabazon and his cousin and ward, Lord Frederick Lynwood. Mr Brabazon has a certain arrogance and I doubt he would be interested in attending, but Lord Lynwood was more approachable and perhaps might come for a lark.’ Sybella sounded less than hopeful. But the effect of these names on their hostess was gratifying.

‘My dears! This couldn’t be better. Mr Brabazon is one of the leading Corinthians. A bit of a smoky reputation but immensely wealthy, and arrogant, I’m sure, aren’t they all? But I cannot fault his manners. And Lord Lynwood is one of the most eligible bachelors about Town. This is such good fortune. He’s a bit of a rapscallion, ’tis true, but he means no harm. Every young woman is casting her lures after him.’

‘Well, I won’t be one of them,’ Lucie muttered under her breath.

All Lady Godley’s senses were acute and she did not miss this retort. ‘Lucie, this is a game and you have to play it. At your age, I was rebellious too. My mama begged me to pretend I wasn’t interested in the things that really mattered to me, Latin and Greek and Ancient History and Politics, but I thumbed my nose at her advice. The classical authors were so much more interesting and I could not stop myself quoting their aphorisms: I do it now, I know! So much more compact and truthful than ours.’

‘But, Godmama, you ended up married with a fortune and a title.’

‘I did, but luckily fate took a hand. I was saved from a lifetime of stupidity by stupidity. My lord took a corner too fast in his curricle and I was freed from bondage.’ She clapped her thin hands together and smiled impishly, aware at how her forthright words must strike her young, less worldly, audience.

‘Then how can you want the same bondage for me?’ said Lucie, piqued.

‘I don’t. You are beautiful, you’ll find a husband to care for, who’ll care for you.’

‘And ensnare a title and riches too, no doubt.’

‘Lucie! Don’t be so ungracious!’ Sybella nudged her sister.

Lady Godley laughed. ‘Be realistic, my dear; all that helps. But the first matters more, don’t it, Sybella? C’est d’aimer et d’être aimé. Am I right?’

Sybella looked into the frank wise eyes and smiled. ‘You’re right, to love and be loved is the thing. My only regret was that my marriage was prematurely ended. For me and my son James, that was the tragedy.’

‘And because mine was not a love match, release from it was liberation.’ Lady Godley sprang up and led them into the dining room.

The next day dawned clear and bright and surprisingly warm for January. The newcomers were keen to explore and after breakfast, Sybella decided they would walk to Hyde Park. They had been warned by Lady Godley that she did not get up early and out of courtesy they waited to see her. It was past noon by the time they set out for Cumberland Gate, walking the short distance up Park Lane. The sisters wore their new walking dresses, buttoned to the neck and form-fitting with matching fur-edged velvet spencers to keep off the chill. James was skipping excitedly beside them, wearing his blue velvet jacket and trousers, with a shirt with a lace collar under his coat. He was looking even more angelic than usual. He had spent the morning in the mews with Gem helping with the horses and could only be extracted and made to change with the promise of more horses and carriages to be seen in the Park.

As they entered Hyde Park, a festive scene unfolded before them. The fine weather seemed to have brought forth most of the available population of fashionable London to promenade, meet their friends, ride horses and drive their curricles and phaetons. They began to walk down one of the many paths towards the Serpentine and hoped to reach the King’s Private Road beyond. There were other children with bowling hoops and balls and various waterfowl and dogs that James stood watching with interest. Then his attention was caught by the sight of familiar horses and a very smart black and silver curricle, glimpsed through the trees of a copse in the distance. He tugged Sybella’s sleeve. ‘Mama, that collicle. The bays. I ’member them. Bootiful steppers,’ he finished wistfully. They walked on, Sybella resisting the impulse to watch the curricle’s progress through the trees. James had been walking on tiptoe and waving, she thought just with natural exuberance, but suddenly the stranger’s horses were snorting and stamping alongside them.

‘Hello, young man. Do I know you?’ The voice was lazy and sardonic. Sybella looked up into a dark, supercilious face with high cheekbones and a patrician nose. Dressed all in black, he was a striking figure of a man, his good looks marred by a bitter smile that had the peculiar quality of not altering one iota the forbidding aspect of his mien. He tipped his beaver hat in recognition of the sisters.

‘Your ’orses!’ James blurted out. ‘You a top-sawyer?’ The owner of them looked down at the ecstatic childish face and laughed in surprise at the language that emitted from this golden-haired putto.

‘I do apologise. He has a passion for horses, I didn’t realise he was hailing you.’ Sybella met his gloved hand with hers. ‘I’m Sybella Lovatt, this is my sister, Lucie Carey, and my son, James.’

The stranger looked them over with a disconcerting gleam in his eye. ‘How do you do? My name is Rockliffe. Are you newly arrived in Town?’

‘We are. We’re staying with Lady Godley in Green Street.’ Lucie came forward to take his proffered hand. Lord Rockliffe recognised the younger sister’s extreme prettiness, but it was her dark sister who caught his interest.

He was about to doff his hat and resume his drive when the small boy piped up, ‘I hold the reins?’