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Mr Flynn approached Taz and Eliza. ‘I’d be grateful if you could look out for the physical conformation of the beast that would suggest his athleticism and speed. Good temperament matters too. Don’t know how Lord Purfoy manages his prize hunter. So strong-willed and contrary.’

Taz sprang to the horse’s defence. ‘Horatio is more intelligent than most coves. Just mirrors my lordship’s temperament. He’s perfectly docile when handled with respect. I’ve never known him cantankerous.’

‘Well, I admit he’s the handsomest beast I’ve seen, and beauty matters too, but is not more important than physical prowess. I want a horse that can win the Epsom Derby.’

Mr Tattersall returned with a stable boy leading a high-spirited bay on a long rein and they watched as he put the horse through his paces in the manège.

Mr Flynn shook his head. The next, a dashing black stallion, arrived in the arena, bucking and cavorting, refusing to do what he was asked even when the whip was flourished.

Eliza felt her spirit flow out to the beast, but Mr Flynn shook his head again emphatically.

They inspected another five, all stallions, but none caught Mr Flynn’s eye, or indeed made either Taz or Eliza feel a frisson of excitement.

Mr Tattersall seemed increasingly desperate as he saw the chance of a rich profit recede.

He went to prepare his last offering, then led into the courtyard an elegant but lightly boned animal, not big but coiled with energy, dun in colour. And a mare.

Zadoc Flynn was tetchy. ‘I said I wanted a stallion,’ he grumbled.

‘You said you wanted a horse that was fleet of foot,’ Mr Tattersall said mildly. ‘This is a mare I was keeping back for the Duke of Beaufort.’ This nugget of information silenced any further doubts.

Eliza was immediately drawn to the animal’s side. Her golden eyes were full of liveliness and humour, her tail held high. She quivered under Eliza’s touch which sensed the energy radiating through her warm skin. ‘What do you think, Taz?’ she asked over her shoulder.

He placed his hand on the horse’s rump where the powerhouse of muscle and propulsion resided. ‘She’s small but I like her. She could be swift as the wind.’

‘But how would she compare with the bigger stallions in a flat race?’ Zadoc Flynn asked in a sceptical voice.

Taz was running his fingers down her fetlocks and with his head to her ribcage, listened to the beat of her heart.

‘That’s a big heart. She could fly. But she needs a light jockey.

’ He turned to Eliza and, wishing to maintain her disguise, did not use her name when he said, ‘Why not ride her now and tell us what you think.’

Eliza was startled to be offered the first ride.

Mr Tattersall, relieved to have a possible sale, turned to get her saddled up.

‘Sir, tarry a while,’ Eliza said. ‘I’ll ride her without a saddle.

Her spirit and character will be clearer through the movement of her muscle and blood.

’ She looked across at Mr Flynn who nodded, his blue eyes beginning to sparkle with some of the anticipation Eliza felt.

The horse was brought to the mounting block and Eliza sprung lightly astride her back.

She asked that the stable boy detach the long rein and let her move freely; horse and rider set off fluidly round the ring, trotting until Eliza eased her into a smooth canter.

The men watched the animal’s movement and balance and Eliza felt a quiver of energy run through the mare beneath her.

This lovely animal had so much more to give.

Eliza sprang to the ground without need of the block or a helping hand and she nodded her approval to a watching Zadoc Flynn.

Taz then rode the mare and he too seemed impressed.

Mr Flynn had seen enough. He drew Mr Tattersall to one side and with much waving of arms and hard-nosed negotiation they agreed the price with a handshake.

The small party rode back to Brook Street in a happy mood.

Mr Flynn once more was his cheerful self.

‘Thank you for your opinions. I’m disappointed she’s a mare but if she wins races as she seems disposed so to do, then she will become the mother of my new stud in Kentucky.

I will call her Ohio, after the mighty river that feeds our pastures on my farm. ’

When they arrived in the mews, Mr Flynn turned his horse into the Wolfe stables and Taz and Eliza trotted through the intercommunicating arch to dismount. ‘A good morning’s work, Taz,’ Eliza said.

Taz sprang off his horse and nodded. ‘That young mare is summat special.’ He looked up at Eliza and, with a mischievous grin, said, ‘Now ye’re in breeches, what ’bout yer circus dismount?’

She admonished him. ‘You shouldn’t encourage me. I’m trying to be a lady.’

Taz snorted. ‘Well, ye’re dressed in the wrong duds for that.’ Realising how ridiculous it was protesting she was a lady while wearing Ferdy’s schoolboy breeches, Eliza laughed.

Eliza had not noticed Lord Purfoy reading The Sporting Magazine while he leaned against the door jamb of a stable, awaiting Taz’s return.

His face was partly in shadow and she did not see his astonishment at seeing Taz was not alone, as he had expected, but in the company of a young man.

Except when he saw the young rider’s profile, he recognised with a visceral jolt that the fine-boned face was not masculine at all.

Holding his breath, he watched Eliza fling Ferdy’s top hat to Taz then stand lightly on Clio’s rump before springing up and in one balletic move, somersaulting to land on her feet on the ground.

Taz chuckled in appreciation. ‘Ye’re a rum one, Miss Gray!

’ But Raven Purfoy was assailed with a complex mix of emotions: alarm at the danger – what if she had slipped and cracked her head again on the cobblestones?

She might not have survived, this second time.

But most disturbing to his peace of mind was coming upon her dressed thus.

Before he knew she was female, Corinna had dressed in breeches in order to travel safely alone, and this had not troubled him in any way.

But knowing Eliza Gray was a woman, it was disconcerting to see her long slim legs so clearly delineated in her borrowed breeches.

Her narrow waist and the obvious curve of her hips as she worked alongside Taz, unsaddling Clio, troubled him with the clandestine intimacy of the sight.

He had seen countless women before in various stages of undress, but to catch Eliza unawares and scandalously clothed tantalised him in a quite different way.

He was caught off-guard, a situation he did not relish.

As he walked out of the shadows, folding the paper and putting it under his arm, Eliza noticed for the first time his dark presence.

She gasped and her expressive face registered surprise, delight and then embarrassment in quick succession as she realised that once again she had taken advantage of his generosity without permission or acknowledgement.

Yet again, she had revealed her uncouth ways in being dressed so scandalously in public.

‘Oh, Lord Purfoy.’ She crossed her arms in front of her.

‘My apologies. I was meant to have changed into suitable clothes and be having breakfast by now.’

‘Where have you been, dressed like that?’ he asked in his cool way. ‘No, let me guess! You thought it might be a lark to join my tiger in some wild scheme. Could it be to do with buying horses, by any chance?’

Faced with his sardonic amusement, Eliza realised the incongruity of standing before him in ill-fitting dandy-schoolboy clothes while he exhibited the understated elegance of his dark attire.

She could not suppress a giggle and suddenly they were both laughing together.

‘Is there nothing that escapes your notice?’ she managed to ask.

‘Not much, I admit. I’m over-responsible and ever vigilant. It is my curse.’

‘Then you’ll know just what we were up to, my lord. I don’t need to tell you, as I’m sure Mr Tattersall is one of your spies and has already sent a note.’ With that she turned to go.

Lord Purfoy put out a hand. ‘I realise, Miss Gray, I have never had the pleasure of seeing you perform your equestrian feats. Perhaps you will show me one day?’

Eliza could not tell whether he was serious or joking; his eyes seemed to combine both amusement and his usual languid superiority. ‘I’m afraid my dear horse, Percy, is still at the circus. He’s my best partner in all things.’

‘Well, I suppose I should be grateful it wasn’t you and Percy who fell into my path that fateful night, else I’d be responsible for him too.’ He really was amused now.

Eliza was taken aback. ‘Sir! I’d hate you to feel responsible for me. I intend to find my family and then set up my life again. If I ever have a home, I may even be lucky enough to take Percy with me.’

Lord Purfoy bowed as Eliza walked quickly back to the Wolfe house, surprisingly excited at the thought his eyes were upon her receding form.

Taz had saddled Horatio and as Purfoy was about to ride out, he looked down at his tiger. ‘Well, what did Mr Flynn buy?’

‘A dun mare, nice little mover.’

‘Could she beat Horatio in a race?’

‘Depends who’s on board. Not with that great lummox in the saddle, that’s certain.’

Purfoy nodded and set off for Hyde Park.

* * *

In the Wolfe household, breakfast was long over and Corinna was preparing to continue her portrait of Eliza when Lord Purfoy walked through the front door and followed his friend into her studio.

He was still in his riding clothes and looked disconsolate, silently gazing at the face that was beginning to emerge on the canvas.

Corinna put a hand on his arm. ‘Raven, are you well? You seem less yourself recently.’