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‘Presumptuous boy!’

‘I’ve promised the next waltz to my sister, Papa, so I’ll beg your pardon.’ Lord Ravenell took Lucie’s hand and bowed low to the rest of the party.

The Duke turned to Sybella and said softly, ‘Mrs Lovatt, how delightful. We meet again. Will you join me in the ballroom?’ He offered his arm and led her through to an emerald velvet sofa between two of the tall windows. They sat and watched the dancers, but their eyes, like most of those in the room, were fixed on Lucie in the arms of Lord Ravenell. Both golden-haired and graceful, they looked like celestial twins as they waltzed round the ballroom, entirely at ease in each other’s company. How much this contrasted with most of the other young couples, awkwardly shy and stilted in their movements and conversation.

‘You like my son, Mrs Lovatt?’ the Duke said gently as his eyes followed Lord Ravenell’s light-footed form, guiding Lucie sinuously through the throng of dancers.

‘I do, very much. But then everyone likes Lord Ravenell, don’t they? There’s something irresistible about his person, his charm.’

‘His mother was the same.’ Sybella glanced quickly at the Duke’s face and was surprised to see the usual brightness of his eyes dimmed by unmistakeable sorrow. ‘She was delightful in every way. I regret to my dying day that I was not a good husband to her.’

‘You gave her a beautiful son. That in itself is treasure beyond count, as I know well myself.’ In a rush of fellow feeling, Sybella found herself placing her gloved hand fleetingly on his. He picked it up delicately and, still deep in thought, brushed her fingers with his lips.

‘No doubt. For you, your son and your sister’s beauty are unalloyed pleasures. But for me, Valentine’s very beauty and charm makes me worry for him. He has some wayward friends I have never been allowed to meet. I fear for my son, and desire very much that he marries.’ He met Sybella’s enquiring gaze with an intent look. ‘I think marriage might restrict his rackety life a touch, and protect him from the consequences of his wildness.’

‘Are you trying to tell me something, my lord?’ Sybella’s frankness made him relax the constraints he appeared to feel at speaking out of turn.

He turned to face her. ‘Valentine would make a very good husband for a sensible young woman. He has breeding and wealth. He is kind and loving and wonderfully good company. He would, in fact, be a much better husband than I was.’ His steady gaze dropped. ‘Except in one respect.’

Sybella was watching her sister laughing with Lord Ravenell, leaning into him with an intimacy born of utter familiarity and ease. There was something so tender and affectionate in the way he treated Lucie and she realised with sudden clarity that he could only ever offer her brotherly love. In fact, from the beginning of their acquaintance, Lord Ravenell had made a great point of claiming her as a sister, and nothing more.

Sybella leant towards the Duke and softly said, ‘Are you saying, my lord, that you fear your son could only offer a young woman a mariage blanc?’ He looked at her with shock in his eyes but before he could answer, the youngsters were standing in front of them, excited and flushed from the dance.

Lord Lynwood joined them and it was clear that this young man’s feelings for her younger sister were of a different order altogether. He laughed with them, but his gaze was fixed on Lucie. He watched her progress around the room with dark smouldering eyes. He was at ease with her but there was a restraint about their physical connection, as if both recognised the danger that therein lurked. Lucie did not lean against him in the way she did with Lord Ravenell or unselfconsciously tuck her arm into his, or touch his hand. They maintained a more careful distance and when their eyes met, there were times when Sybella noticed a faint flush in the cheeks of them both.

‘It’s past midnight and we have a race tomorrow.’ Lord Lynwood took his friend’s arm and extricated him from the group. ‘We should get some sleep. We’re starting early.’ He bowed to them each in turn and propelled a protesting Lord Ravenell away with him.

‘Lucie, we too should be heading home.’ Sybella smiled across at her sister, who had sat down beside the Duke of Ely and was in shy conversation with the old charmer.

‘Val is such a wonderful dancer, my lord. Yet he protests he finds the whole business dull!’

‘Tsk! I fear that prodigal boy of mine would much rather risk his fortune on gaming, drinking and other expensive dangerous sports. But I know he means no harm. All the mamas consider him a very good match for their daughters.’ He smiled wryly. ‘In fact, he’d make the right young woman a very charming husband.’ His eyes were sorrowful as Lucie turned to face him.

‘But do you think that’s what he wants?’ She was serious as her candid blue eyes met his gaze and she continued, ‘Val’s always said he’s not one for riveting. In fact, he jokes that he’d rather borrow my scampish nephew, James, as a grandson for you!’ They both laughed, but Lucie’s laugh was more carefree than the Duke’s, who turned his troubled face from her. Sybella noticed again the shadow of anxiety in the tenseness of his mouth.

‘Come, Lucie, I’ll be woken tomorrow by James and I need some sleep.’

The Duke stood up and took each of their hands and bowed, his eyes twinkling again. ‘Thank you for indulging the pratings of a father, stricken in years.’ Sybella’s sympathetic heart went out to him. She lightly squeezed his hand and then turned with Lucie and left the glittering scene.

The day dawned bright and fresh and Sybella was indeed woken from the deepest sleep by the warm wriggling body of her son snuggling under the covers and eager for her to get up. ‘Mama, promised the ’Gyptian Hall today. Want to see bones and turtle shells and giant snails an’ all. Get up, do.’ He was gently prising her heavy eyelids open with a small chubby finger. Sybella awoke to find a cherubic face very close to hers, breathing warm air up her nose, his blue gaze intently peering into her sleepy eyes. ‘Dragon bones,’ he was whispering in awe. ‘There be dragon bones?’

She struggled to sit up. ‘Hello, darling. Yes, we’ll go today, but it’s too early. Have to breakfast first and then wait until the museum opens. Where’s Nurse?’

‘Still snorin’,’ the small boy said with satisfaction. ‘Creeped out. To find you.’ He threw his arms around her and buried his small golden head in her breast.

‘Well, perhaps it’s time to find Nurse and get dressed. Then your mama can get dressed and we’ll discuss the day. I have a letter to write to George after breakfast and then we can go.’

He slipped off the high bed and dashed towards the door. ‘A rum do, Mama,’ he flung over his shoulder and had gone before Sybella could say a word.

Lucie was also up early for breakfast and strangely agitated. ‘I wonder how the race goes today. It’s so dangerous. I couldn’t bear for anything to happen to Freddie or Val.’ She was looking rather pale after their late night and did not seem to have her usual appetite for eggs and toast. Sipping her coffee, she looked reflective. ‘Val’s papa seems to be more than usually anxious about him. He’s so popular and lovable, I don’t know why the Duke would worry. Except about his gaming debts, I suppose. And these occasional wild scrapes.’ She looked at Sybella for clarification.

‘I think loving parents do worry. I would be beside myself if anything happened to James.’

‘I think poor Freddie feels he has no parent to care about him.’

‘He does have Mr Brabazon, who seems to take his role as guardian seriously.’ Sybella poured herself some coffee.

‘But it’s not the same. He doesn’t love Freddie in the same way as you and the Duke love your sons.’