The gentleman removed his arm from Jane’s waist at last and executed a bow. ‘Lady Verey. How do you do, ma’am.’ Jane thought that she could detect the very slightest hint of rueful amusement in his voice. ‘I do not believe that Miss Verey has come to any lasting harm, but perhaps she should be conveyed home for a rest. I shall call a hack for you.’

‘Yes of course, but-’ Lady Verey’s gaze was darting from Jane to her rescuer. ‘I had no notion that you were the gentleman who had come to Jane’s rescue. We had no idea that you were even in Town! Is your brother with you? You must permit us to call and express our sense of obligation-’

‘Of course, ma’am, I should be delighted.’ The gentleman cut her short in the politest, most deferential manner possible. ‘I shall not detain you any longer. Good day…’

He bowed again and the crowd parted to let him pass as though obeying some unspoken authority. The cart pulled away and a hackney cab took its place. Jane, bewildered and shaken, allowed Sophia to help her solicitously inside.

‘Who was that gentleman, ma’am?’ she heard Sophia ask Lady Verey as the cab set off in the direction of Portman Square. ‘He seemed quite…’ Sophia hesitated, but Jane knew just what she meant. The gentleman in question had seemed quite awesome. She felt again the power of his glance, the tender strength with which he had held her. Jane shivered.

‘That was the Duke of Delahaye,’ Lady Verey was saying composedly, ‘the elder brother of Lord Philip. Jane…’ she saw her daughter’s pale, stricken face ‘…are you sure that you are quite well? You must go to bed as soon as we reach home or you will not be well enough for Almack’s this evening! I am sure that the accident must have overset you!’

‘Yes, Mama,’ Jane said submissively. ‘I confess I feel a little shaken.’

‘Well, perhaps we should not go tonight-’ Lady Verey broke off, looking torn. ‘But on the other hand it could be construed as a snub to the patronesses…oh, dear, how provoking! I do not know what to do!’

‘I shall be better directly, Mama!’ Jane said, leaning back and closing her eyes. ‘I pray you, do not consider cancelling our attendance…’

‘I had no notion that the Duke was in Town,’ Lady Verey said, smoothing her gloves. ‘He is seldom in London, you know, for he much prefers the country!’ She frowned. ‘How odd! And how curious that he should be passing just when you fell, Jane!’

Jane, remembering the way in which the Duke of Delahaye had stood watching her from across the road, was tempted to say that he had hardly been passing. She held her peace. The whole episode had been most disconcerting. Why had the Duke been watching her beforehand and what could account for her strange reaction to him? The colour flooded her face as she remembered the sensation of his arm about her. She had met plenty of personable gentlemen in the past week, but never before had she been so aware of a man’s touch. She closed her eyes. It was best to forget it, best to forget him. It seemed that, between them, the Delahaye brothers were causing her nothing but trouble.

It was Simon Verey who heard the rumours first. Whilst the ladies were out shopping he had had a meeting with Pettishaw, his man of business, and had then spent a convivial afternoon with Lord Henry Marchnight, one of his oldest friends. They had met by chance at Tattersall’s and, as the evening advanced, made their way to Brooks.

‘Covered yourself with glory on campaign, I hear,’ Henry said with a lazy grin, after they had tried the claret and considered it more than tolerable. ‘Whatever will you find to do with yourself here that could compare?’

Simon laughed. ‘I intend to enjoy the pleasures of Town for a little, then turn into the complete country squire! Ambergate will be back in good order soon, but I don’t want to be an absentee landlord for too long!’

‘A country squire needs a wife and brood to look the part!’ Henry observed. ‘Plenty of pretty girls out this Season!’

Simon grimaced. ‘So my mama keeps reminding me! She is forever pushing likely heiresses under my nose! It will be a little while yet before I set up my nursery, though I don’t deny I’m looking out for a potential bride!’ He shot his friend a look. ‘If Mama becomes too pressing I suppose I could always offer my hand and heart to Lady Polly Seagrave-’

Lord Henry’s gaze narrowed. ‘She wouldn’t have you! Lady Polly has just turned down her seventh suitor this Season!’

‘And it would be a shame to ruin our good friendship,’ Simon murmured, signalling for more wine.

Lord Henry relaxed infinitesimally. ‘As you say…’

‘Are you settled in Town for the Season or do you travel again?’ Simon thought it wise to turn the conversation away from his friend’s unrequited passion for Lady Polly. The Earl of Seagrave’s daughter had rejected Henry’s plea to elope some three seasons before, but Simon knew that, despite Henry’s apparent indifference, his friend’s feelings were still deeply engaged.

Lord Henry shook his head slightly. ‘My plans are uncertain…I must go abroad again shortly and I think that there may be trouble brewing closer to home but…’ he shrugged ‘…I seldom know where I will be sent from week to week!’

Simon let it pass. He knew that Lord Henry worked for the government in various shadowy capacities and equally knew that his friend wished that to remain a well-kept secret. They paused in their conversation as a couple of slightly inebriated young men staggered past on their way to the card tables.

‘Are you staying for a hand of whist?’ Henry asked.

Simon shook his head. ‘Promised to look in at Almack’s tonight. M’sister and Miss Marchment are making their debut. Bound to be a crush!’ He put his glass down and got to his feet. ‘Damned slow, squiring one’s own sister about Town!’

‘You’re too kind-hearted,’ Henry mocked. ‘Can Miss Marchment be the reason for this generosity?’

Simon stared. ‘Sophia? Hardly!’ He realised that he sounded less than gallant and flushed at the sardonic light in Lord Henry’s eyes. ‘Miss Marchment is a charming girl, but I know her like my own sister and besides…I prefer women a bit more-’

‘Voluptuous?’

‘Intelligent!’ Simon finished, on a note of rebuke. ‘Unfashionable it may be-boring it ain’t!’

‘Miss Verey is highly intelligent,’ Lord Henry murmured.

‘Jane?’ Simon paused. ‘Well, I suppose that she reads a lot-

‘Not just intelligent-clever. Clever enough to evade marrying Philip Delahaye, by my reckoning, and making him look churlish into the bargain!’

Simon sat down again. ‘You’ve lost me, Harry. What are you trying to tell me?’

‘You were still away when Delahaye went to Ambergate to pay court to your sister, weren’t you?’

‘Came back a few weeks later,’ Simon confirmed. ‘Mama said Philip Delahaye had cried off. Jane didn’t seem to mind and I was always a bit uncomfortable about the match, to tell the truth. I knew it was mooted-knew m’father had been keen and that the Duke was pushing for it to go ahead.’ He shifted in his chair. ‘Thought that was the end of the matter.’

Lord Henry shook his head slowly. ‘Better that you hear it from me, Simon, than through rumour and falsehood. There are a hundred-and-one stories circulating about Philip Delahaye’s visit to Ambergate because he arrived and left again so swiftly. Everyone knows that he intended to make Jane an offer and the speculation is all about what made him change his mind. The worst matter is that Philip himself appears to have encouraged the rumours by saying that he cried off because-’

‘Verey!’ Lord Henry had broken off as someone stumbled against Simon’s chair and hailed him at a volume more suited to a hundred yards than the three feet actually involved.

‘Cheriton,’ Simon said, with a cold inclination of the head for the painted dandy before him, ‘how do you do?’

‘Well, old fellow, very well! I’m for Almack’s-I hear that your lovely sister is to be there! I can barely wait to make her acquaintance!’ Lord Cheriton gave a crack of laughter. ‘You will have heard what a fool Philip Delahaye has made of himself by disparaging Miss Verey! The on dit is that Delahaye was so foxed when he arrived at Ambergate that he mistook some pox-faced serving wench for your sister! We had a fine laugh at his description of her! Pudding-faced, freakish, barely literate-’ Cheriton’s shoulders shook. ‘He said that he would rather starve than tie himself to her in marriage! Then Freddie Ponsonby met Miss Verey in Charles Street and said that she was divinely beautiful with a wit to match, don’t you know! Philip could not believe it and swears he’ll be at Almack’s to see for himself! We gave him a roasting he’ll never forget and all he could think of was that he must have confused her with some serving doxy! He was paying his addresses to a damned serving maid!’ Cheriton sauntered away, still chuckling.

The detail might have been confused but the gist of Cheriton’s words was all too clear. Simon was half out of his chair and Henry Marchnight laid a restraining hand on his arm. As was often the way, a hush had fallen over the room as everyone else, sensitive to the slightest scandal, strained to hear what was going on.

‘Simon, think a little!’

Simon sank back into his chair, his face flushed with sudden fury. ‘I suppose that this was what you were about to tell me, Harry? That Philip Delahaye has been bandying my sister’s name about Town-’

‘Well, not precisely…’ Lord Henry bit his lip. Cheriton’s tactless interruption had made it well-nigh impossible for him to explain to Simon that he suspected Jane of tricking Philip Delahaye. Henry had known Jane since childhood and had the greatest respect for her quick mind. As soon as he had heard Philip’s lurid description of his encounter with Miss Verey, Henry had immediately remembered the ugly stepmother of the pantomime held at Ambergate so long ago. After serious consideration, he had thought it only fair to warn Simon. His friend needed to know of Philip’s inexcusable slander, but also to be alerted to the fact that Jane might have deceived him. Matters seemed somewhat delicate. It only needed for Jane and Philip Delahaye to meet for the most almighty row to develop.

As Henry hesitated over his potential disclosure, another voice broke the silence.

‘May I have a moment of your time, gentlemen…?’

Neither Simon nor Lord Henry had noticed the arrival of the newcomer, yet when they looked up they both wondered how they could have missed the atmosphere of tension in the room. The slightly malicious eavesdropping of a few minutes before had given way to something approaching incredulity. Astonishment was mingled with awe. Then Simon caught the whisper:

‘It is the Duke of Delahaye-Alexander Delahaye…’

A faint smile touched Alex’s mouth as he took the third chair at the table. ‘I must apologise for interrupting your conversation, gentlemen, but my business is pressing.’

‘Simon, this is Alex Delahaye,’ Henry murmured, covertly assessing the interest they were arousing from their peers and smiling wryly. Any minute now, Cheriton would be offering to serve the wine in his attempts to overhear. ‘Alex, Simon Verey. Forgive my informality but I guessed that you would wish to cut straight to your business!’

The two men shook hands. ‘You were correct, Harry,’ Alex said drily. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Lord Verey. I have heard a great deal about your exploits on campaign. Just now, however, there are matters closer to home that demand our attention! Have you, perhaps, heard the rumours?’

‘Heard about them just this instant,’ Simon confirmed grimly. ‘A small misunderstanding over your brother’s courtship of m’sister!’

‘You are all generosity to describe it thus,’ Alex said ruefully. ‘I am most concerned to avoid any further cause for general speculation. The rumours are highly coloured and as inaccurate as these things usually are! My major preoccupation, however, is that Philip is to be at Almack’s tonight, where, I understand, he will undoubtedly meet Miss Verey again. I do not wish it to be turned into a public spectacle!’ He cast a quick look round the crowded room and drew his chair in closer. ‘Every ear in the place is strained to overhear us, I see!’

‘They’re taking bets,’ Henry said cheerfully. ‘Evens on a public row in Almack’s, two to one that Miss Verey will cut Lord Philip dead and twenty to one that Philip’s description was accurate after all-saving your presence, Simon!’

Both Simon and Alex Delahaye winced.

‘How did this happen in the first place?’ Simon demanded. ‘Pudding-faced, freakish, illiterate…Those were Cheriton’s words and, devil take it, there’s no smoke without fire! Your brother must have been damned disparaging, Delahaye!’