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‘I’m afraid I said that if you brought the greys, he could. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘I may be an ogre in your estimation, Mrs Lovatt, but I’ve learnt that crushing the dreams of young tots is not worth the commotion.’

He handed her up into the curricle and then sprang nimbly onto the driving seat. His groom handed James up to Sybella, who thought it safest to put him between herself and Mr Brabazon, but first surreptitiously wiped his hands on the lining of her pelisse. The depredation of Mr Brabazon’s fine buckskin breeches at the honeyed hand of her son was still sharp in her memory, as she suspected it was Mr Brabazon’s too.

The beautiful pair of horses trotted smartly up Park Lane and James watched their rumps and tails rising and falling in unison with a happy smile on his face. As the curricle and pair entered the Park, Sybella was pleased to see that the daffodils were in full bloom, as it seemed was every fashionable member of society. The Season had truly begun. Dandies and the Pinkest of the Pinks were on the strut, for fashionable young women and their managing mamas had left their country estates and arrived back in Town in force. With the regularity of spring bulbs pushing their heads through the wintery earth to demand attention in the Park with their fluttering display, members of the ton entertained the eye with a brilliant shifting show, strutting, strolling, riding and driving.

‘I’ve never seen the place so full.’ Sybella could not suppress her good humour for long and turned to her companion with a sparkle in her eyes.

‘It grows tiresome you know. I’m considering retiring to one of my estates for the Season and only returning to London for the autumn and winter,’ was the cynical response.

‘It is fun for a bumpkin like me, but I admit I am glad I only have to do this once.’

‘Oh, no, Mrs Lovatt, I would never describe you thus. You’re far too beautiful and worldly-wise for a country bumpkin.’ Mr Brabazon’s tone of voice was as drily amused as ever and Sybella felt a confusion of feeling: surprised delight at being so described but uncertainty as to whether he was merely mocking her from his elevated position at the centre of the society he appeared to disparage. She glanced quickly at his face, but it revealed nothing other than furrows of concentration between his distinctive black brows.

After manoeuvring his horses through the cluster of carriages to an open space where they could lengthen their stride, he quietly asked, ‘Are you restless to go home?’

‘I look forward to catching up on the progress of the estate, seeing George and the other retainers. But most of all, just being free of constraint.’ She smiled at him suddenly.

James had been edging closer to the reins, which were lightly held by Mr Brabazon as he tooled his curricle towards a copse of trees.

He looked up at him. ‘Mr B, ’ave the ribbons?’

Rather surprised by this small voice breaking in on his thoughts and noticing the hand creeping across his knee towards the reins, he replied in an amused tone, ‘Perhaps, once we reach the grassy sward beyond the trees. But I hope you know, young Jim, that no one is allowed to drive my greys but me and my groom.’ James flashed a delighted smile at his mother.

Soon they were in an expanse of open parkland and Mr Brabazon lifted James onto his lap and gave him the reins. ‘Now, hold them loosely.’ He maintained his own grip on the loops and pointed out the horses. ‘That grey on the right is the leader when I drive four-in-hand, his name is Pollux, and the other is my wheeler and he is Castor.’ James sat very upright and still and did precisely what he was told. ‘Gently pull on the right, and we’ll turn the team.’ As they turned, James glanced up at Mr Brabazon, who nodded encouragement. ‘Now loosen that rein off and we can go straight on again.’

So intent had they all been on the driving lesson, they had not noticed the approach of three horses and their riders. ‘Hail, Cousin! Mrs Lovatt. What a bang-up driver you’re going to become, young Jim.’ Lord Lynwood saluted James.

‘Mr B say no one drive ’is greys. I got the ribbons now.’

‘It’s more than I’ve ever been allowed to do.’ Freddie Lynwood laughed. He was pale and hollow-eyed, as if he had had a rough night. ‘You know Lady Cleome already.’ Speaking to Sybella, he indicated his lovely companion with a nod.

‘Indeed. Thank you for your delightful performance last night. You are a prodigiously fine musician.’

Lord Lynwood then put his hand out to grasp the shoulder of the exquisite beside him. ‘May I introduce her brother, Lord Peregrine Stafford.’

Sybella took in the astonishing spectacle of this young popinjay of fashion and was struck by the extremes of his dress. It seemed the Good Fairy attendant at his sister’s birth had dowered her with all the beauty and left nothing for her brother. He had pale protuberant eyes and a weak chin, but he had been granted a talent for sartorial excess. His starched collar points were so high he could barely turn his head and his receding chin appeared anchored by a vast cravat, complexly folded into a solid glacier of linen. The young swell had swept off his hat to reveal the wildest head of hair, spiked and curled and stiffened with wax. His fashionable riding coat was girt with so many capes that they created a waterfall of fabric almost to the hem. The shoulders were padded to a great width and the waist tightly nipped in to exaggerate the triangular silhouette. But most commanding of attention was his waistcoat, made of a blue and yellow wide-striped silk.

‘Delighted!’ He bowed to Sybella and then to Mr Brabazon, whom he treated with marked deference.

Lord Lynwood was wheeling his horse, preparing to ride off. ‘Good to see you, Coz, playing the paterfamilias to that young scamp. Be careful, though, you’ll set the old gossies quacking!’ His mischievous laughter made the Staffords look anxiously at his guardian’s face. Mr Brabazon narrowed his eyes and cast his impudent ward a sulphurous look, refusing to be drawn by his banter. Lord Lynwood then clasped Sybella’s hand and kissed it. ‘Thank you, Ma’am, for a delightful party last night. Please give my regards to your sister and her godmother.’ With a gay wave, he led his party off towards Grosvenor Gate.

‘Well! I’ve never seen such a fashionable young man.’ Sybella was laughing as she looked across at Mr Brabazon.

‘You mean fop.’ His tone was quelling. He lifted James off his lap, congratulating him on his driving skills, and settled him back next to his mother.

‘Oh, no, you’re too severe on Lord Peregrine. He’s only a sprig. Weren’t you ever foolish yourself, Mr Brabazon?’ Sybella knew she was unlikely to get an answer and continued to express her own amusement. ‘And his hair! What an extraordinary style, don’t you think?’

‘Freddie assures me it’s the latest thing. It’s called the Startled Owl.’ His lips quivered with the ghost of a smile.

A gust of laughter escaped her, try as she did to moderate it. ‘No! It can’t be called that, surely? Lord Lynwood’s bamming you.’

‘It is, I assure you.’ This time, he could not repress his own chuckle.

‘And that waistcoat! I felt I should only gaze on it through my fingers.’

‘Now, I won’t have you make fun of that. It’s the most distinguished insignia of the exacting Four-in-Hand Club. That boy is not quite as useless as he looks. He’s a fine horseman, better than Freddie.’