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Lord Davenport knew he had needled this most self-possessed of men and he enjoyed his unaccustomed power.

In an insinuating voice he added, ‘Your unruly tiger was accompanying that little chit from the circus, Miss Clorinda.’ He spat out the name.

‘I’m surprised, Purfoy, you advertise your low taste in female company.

She’s enchanting enough, ’tis true, but why flaunt her in public, and on one of your horses too?

Any such betrayal of our class is better kept behind closed doors, don’t you think? ’

A white rage rose in Raven Purfoy’s breast. His voice was quiet and menacing as he said, ‘I should call you out for that slur against my name, and Miss Gray! But I won’t stoop to deal so with you.

’ He wheeled Horatio around and cantered towards Grosvenor Gate, irate, unsettled, spoiling for a fight.

He hated being in thrall to passion. Loss of control alarmed him; if his iron grip on his life began to give way, what chaos would ensue?

As he trotted through Grosvenor Square, Purfoy rued the night he had refused to listen to Taz and had run into that confounded girl.

* * *

Eliza had never been to a dressmaker of any kind, let alone a fashionable modiste in Bond Street.

She dressed in the smartest walking gown that Corinna had given her, a confection of green twilled sarsenet with a plaited collar of cream ribbon, and over that a matching pelisse with a ruffled hem.

On her head she wore a fetching Leghorn bonnet trimmed with pink and green Italian silk, quickly tied under her chin as she descended the stairs.

Corinna met her in the hall. She smiled.

‘We just have to walk to the end of the street. Madame Delaunay’s shop is not far. ’

The afternoon was bright as they set out, walking briskly east. The moment they reached Bond Street, Eliza’s eyes widened at the sight of so many finely dressed men and women.

She had been gratified by her own appearance but here were such elaborate bonnets, coats and pelisses embellished with contrasting ribbons, flounces and fur, they quite eclipsed her own modest attire.

She took Corinna’s arm. ‘These women are so brightly clothed I feel like a sparrow amid the parakeets.’

Corinna tutted. ‘Many of these gowns are more truly theatrical dress. I wouldn’t want to see you so tricked out.

’ But Eliza found the sight of so much colour thrilling.

She had been brought up with outfits made from tawdry cloth but bursting with decorative extravagances.

This was the first time, however, she was exposed to the power of fine clothes, the effect on the wearer and the messages they gave to the world.

Eliza noticed a hatchet-faced woman with sallow cheeks dressed in exquisite rose silk and an operatic bonnet trimmed with a fan of golden ostrich feathers, and thought she looked queenly and magnificent.

It seemed even the most plain and disconsolate of women was made distinguished by the quality of the garments she wore.

As they weaved their way through the crowd of shoppers and promenaders the sky grew ominously dark as storm clouds obscured the sun.

Eliza could smell the rain on the air. A sudden clap of thunder brought a deluge that caught everyone unawares and there were cries of dismay as people ran for cover.

Corinna steered her young charge into the nearest coffee shop.

‘We’ll wait here for the worst of the rain to pass.

I’ll be back in minutes with an umbrella from a shop I know. ’

Eliza settled on an upholstered bench next to another young woman sheltering from the weather. She pulled her skirts close. ‘I’m sorry to splash your pelisse.’ Eliza looked down at the damp stains spreading on her neighbour’s blue silk. ‘My name’s Eliza Gray.’

The young woman looked up with a merry expression.

Her serene oval face and wide clear brow attracted Eliza greatly.

‘I’m Marina Fairley,’ she said. They managed an awkward handshake, so closely were they packed with other shoppers and their chaperones.

The young woman peered into Eliza’s face as she said, ‘I don’t recognise you. Is this your first Season?’

Surprised this frank young woman should have suspected she might be a debutante, Eliza replied, ‘I’m not doing the Season as such, just attending Lady Bassett’s ball.’

This elicited a vivid smile from her new acquaintance who then said, ‘You are lucky on two counts. To have escaped the torture of the Season and to have an invitation to the Bassett ball.’ Her golden brown eyes were alive with humour and intelligence.

Eliza laughed. ‘Is that a contradiction of desires?’

Marina Fairley shook her head and said emphatically, ‘The ball is fun but the Season most decidedly is not. This is my third.’ She pulled a face, her eyes full of mischief.

‘I’m not beautiful like you and have no dowry – and indeed no desire to marry.

So you can see why I’m such a failure.’ Eliza was struck by how the wry expression on the young woman’s face belied the meaning of her words.

What she said next revealed the reason for her levity.

‘My mama has promised if I haven’t found a husband by the summer, then she’ll give me up as a lost cause ’ – she gave the words melodramatic emphasis – ‘and let me pursue the life I choose.’

Just as Eliza was about to ask her the nature of the life she chose, Corinna returned with a very large umbrella. ‘Look what I found. The competition for them was fierce!’ Eliza introduced her new acquaintance to Corinna and stood up to go.

Miss Fairley put out a hand with a visiting card between her fingers. ‘I’d so like to see you again, Miss Gray. I’m at my grandmother’s house at Albermarle tomorrow. Shall you come to tea at three?’

Eliza looked questioningly at Corinna. ‘Would that be acceptable? Do you need me to sit for my portrait tomorrow afternoon?’

‘It’s a very good idea to meet more young people.

Polly can accompany you. We have Mrs Wilson’s dancing lesson in the morning and I can paint you when you get back.

’ They made their farewells and stepped into Bond Street where the tempest had passed but had left the street running with malodorous sludge.

Picking up their skirts, they scurried past two more parades of shops: the mantua-makers, milliners, glove-makers, jewellers and modistes, their windows gay with elaborate displays.

Corinna pointed to a shop sign swinging in the wind with the name Delaunay inscribed in a swirling cursive hand.

‘There it is. With that lovely pelisse in the display.’ She indicated a pretty bow window with a pale primrose velvet coat with ermine collar and cuffs adding a sense of drama and luxury.

Corinna led the way up the steps and in through the door.

Parting the curtain at the back of the shop, a woman of indeterminate years stepped forward, her eyes lively under black eyebrows and with greying hair swept off her face into a small bun at the nape.

On sight of Corinna her face softened with a sweet smile.

‘Mrs Wolfe! What a pleasure to see you again.’ She came forward with her hands outstretched.

When Corinna introduced Eliza and suggested Madame Delaunay might be able to make her a ball gown in a matter of days, the modiste rolled her eyes.

‘ Mais oui ! I’m a fairy godmother who can work miracles!

’ She laughed. Then she appraised Eliza’s figure and colouring.

‘You are very petite and elegant. But those eyes! Oh la la ! We must emphasise their remarkable colour.’ Madame thought for a moment, her gaze intent on Eliza’s face.

‘The paleness of your hair too is very dramatic. I think lilac lace over blue tiffany will show your beauty to its advantage.’

She clapped her hands and a willowy young woman appeared from the workroom at the back and gave an uncertain smile.

‘Tea for Mrs Wolfe and her friend, please, Harriet.’ Madame Delaunay then disappeared into the stockroom to emerge some minutes later carrying a bolt of filmy tiffany in a shimmering sky blue.

‘This will be for the underdress,’ she said as she put it on the sofa beside Eliza.

Within a few seconds she was back with a beautiful Flanders lace in lilac.

Eliza put out a hand to touch the airy folds. ‘It’s exquisite,’ she said, barely believing it could be made into a dress for her to wear.

‘Well, Miss Gray, I’ll show you how beautiful it will be.

Now stand in front of that mirror.’ Madame Delaunay approached with both bolts of fabric and draped the blue tiffany round her body then overlaid it with the lace, gathering it under Eliza’s breasts to imitate the narrow bodice and skirt.

‘There!’ The modiste looked with satisfaction at Eliza.

‘What do you think, Mrs Wolfe?’ she said over her shoulder.

All three women gazed at the reflection in the mirror.

Eliza stifled a gasp. The fabrics’ colour combination made her eyes strangely vivid and gave depth to her coils of fair hair.

Madame Delaunay’s austere face softened at the sight.

Corinna was the first to speak. ‘It’s perfect. Now, what style do you think?’

The modiste stood back and scrutinised the young woman standing before her, swathed in fabric.

She was once more business-like in her manner.

‘Miss Gray has an elegant neck and her shoulders are fine. I think the dress should enhance these features. In Paris now they reveal more of a woman’s back.

An exposed décolletage is passé. The back and nape of neck are the new focus of desire. ’