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This striking figure led the way. ‘Your friend Shilton is in, and that tedious dolt Davenport’s been here all day.

In his cups and baling lucre like he’s a careening ship.

’ Lord Alvanley had a tall broad body, exquisitely dressed as befitted an intimate of the great and much-missed Beau Brummel.

As he walked with Lord Purfoy through the crowd, it parted as if for Moses.

They reached the gaming room where tables covered with green baize were laid out for games of hazard, all in full swing.

Lord Purfoy sought out the table where Ferdinand Shilton and Lord Davenport were at play.

The pair of dice were customised by White’s to prevent any doctored dice being introduced.

Raven Purfoy nodded to the caster, then as the other players looked up he greeted them with a curt incline of his head.

Lord Davenport met his glance with blurry eyes and drawled, ‘I’m surprised to see you here, Purfoy. Thought you had more diverting sport at home.’

Lord Purfoy ignored the salacious slur and sat in the chair opposite his adversary and next to Mr Shilton who leaned over and said in a low voice, ‘They’re playing ridiculously deep. Take care, Rav, there are some reckless gamesters here.’ He gave a meaningful glance towards Davenport.

‘Don’t worry, Ferdy, that suits my purposes.’

Ferdinand Shilton looked at his friend askance.

Something concerned him about his manner.

He knew Purfoy was one of the best mental calculators of odds, but he worried that he seemed set on some form of revenge.

Operatic emotion was always dangerous and, when gambling, could be fatal; Mr Shilton eschewed it at all costs.

The caster threw the dice and set the main, and the bets began.

Ferdy Shilton was right, Lord Davenport was betting big, but Raven Purfoy eased himself in gradually, winning incrementally, taking more and more of the pot.

They had played well past midnight, fortified only by brandy, beef sandwiches and cake and Mr Shilton, pale with exhaustion, stood up and excused himself from play.

He put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and whispered, ‘I’m leaving, Rav, why not come with me?

Save it for another day?’ Lord Purfoy shook his head and placed a mixture of old guineas and gold sovereigns on the table.

His friend knew he intended to remain for some time yet.

* * *

It was early in the morning when only Lord Davenport and Raven Purfoy were left at the table.

Davenport was the caster of the dice and Purfoy, white with fatigue, rapped the table.

‘Davenport, I suggest we play for the deeds of Bathwick Court and estate, together with Lady Bathwick’s jewels.

’ There was a communal gasp from the onlookers who lounged, brandy in hands, aware that this was one of the biggest games of the club’s recent history.

Davenport was deeply in his cups but such a seasoned drinker that it seemed not to impair his judgement greatly. As quick as a whip he replied, ‘What do you have to put against such a wager?’

Without hesitation, Lord Purfoy said the words that sent shock waves through the club: ‘My whole stable of thoroughbred horses, the teams of two and four and my string of hunters – all – and my brood mares.’ Purfoy’s eye for bloodstock and his love of his horses was legendary.

The quality of the animals in his stables was second to none.

He could barely believe he had uttered these profane words and knew Taz would never forgive him; only the lowest form of humanity risked their horses in a wager.

Lord Purfoy could barely forgive himself .

But he knew this was what had to be done to stand a chance of extracting the Bathwick estate from Davenport’s destructive grip.

Word had spread fast and most of the other gamesters had broken away from their play to watch this momentous wager.

It was the hour before dawn yet everyone was suddenly energised with anticipation and the room went quiet, all eyes fixed on the table before them.

There was an intense minute while Lord Davenport considered the wager.

He then nodded and picked up the dice, throwing them nervously from hand to hand.

‘Just one throw then, winner takes all. Do you agree on your honour, Lord Purfoy?’

‘I do.’

The dice were thrown and they rolled to show their faces with three dots each. The crowd murmured, ‘The main is six.’

Lord Purfoy had quickly calculated that he had a fractionally increased chance of winning by beating that six. His mission was clear and he could not lose his nerve now. He nodded and the dice were thrown again.

They scattered to the edge of the table and rolled to a stop just by Raven’s hand. Both faces showed only one spot. Two aces! The six lost to them.

The onlookers erupted. ‘It’s an outing. Davenport’s thrown out. Purfoy wins!’ In that one throw, that one moment in time, an ancestral estate was wagered and lost. Lord Davenport slumped to the table, completely spent. The extent of his drinking finally claimed his wits.

Raven Purfoy felt nothing but plain relief.

His head fell to his hands as he was congratulated by the fellow gamesters in the room, slapping him on the back.

Unbeknownst to him, Lord Alvanley had also stayed to see the outcome of such a stupendous bet.

He pulled him to his feet. ‘Congratulations, Purfoy. You’ve beaten the last record in White’s book of wagers.

’ He then turned to go and took Lord Purfoy by the elbow.

‘I saw you arrive on foot. I can take you home in my carriage. It’s waiting outside. ’

Raven Purfoy’s tiredness broke over him like a wave. ‘Thank you, my lord, that would be kind. But may I request you don’t mention my reckless behaviour to your driver or grooms. Taz cannot be allowed to hear of this wager from anyone.’

Lord Alvanley put an arm around his shoulder. ‘I’m afraid you have an icicle’s chance in hell of keeping this quiet. The gossip will already be ripping like a gorse fire through Town.’ Lord Purfoy groaned.

‘Tell me, Purfoy, did you also win that beautiful grey stallion off him?’

‘No, how could I? His humiliation was complete. Justice was done. I could not deprive him of the only creature he cares for.’ He gave a tired grin. ‘Much is the pity.’

Alvanley chuckled. ‘Well, he lives to dice another day.’

The handsome Alvanley carriage swayed to a stop in Brook Street.

Lord Purfoy climbed down and noticed the blush of dawn already seeping into the London sky with its pale sliver of a moon barely visible to the east, suspended over the spire of St George’s Hanover Square.

The new day had begun but he was beyond exhaustion.

He did not wake his valet so pulled off his boots, discarded his cravat and fell into bed fully clothed.

Sleep combined with a deep sense of satisfaction as he slipped into oblivion.

* * *

Eliza was excited to be seeing her half-sister again.

Marina Fairley was barely a few minutes’ walk away and Eliza stepped out with Polly into the sunny afternoon.

Every journey from Brook Street seemed to pass through Grosvenor Square and Eliza recalled with emotion her first experience of a grand Society ball at Lady Bassett’s mansion where her life had changed for ever.

As they climbed the front steps of Mrs Fairley’s Mount Street house, the front door sprang open.

Marina grasped Eliza’s hands with delight and pulled her inside.

‘How glad I am to see you!’ She hesitated for a moment and then threw her arms around her in a spontaneous hug.

Polly disappeared down the back stairs to the kitchen and Eliza divested herself of her bonnet and pelisse as Miss Fairley led her into the morning room.

‘I’ve asked Cook for some tea to be brought. ’

They sat together on the small sofa by the fire. ‘So how was the racing? I’m inordinately relieved to see you well and uninjured. It’s the most lethal of sports.’ Miss Fairley had been taken into Eliza’s confidence about her riding in the celebrated Owners’ Race.

Eliza took her hand. ‘I so regret my foolishness. I was headstrong and petulant when I first agreed to ride for Mr Flynn, but in honouring my word to him, I ruined my honour and my word in the eyes of the only man I can ever love.’

Marina was struck by a defeated air she had never before seen in Eliza’s manner. ‘Oh, my dear sister, I feel such sympathy for you. Our passions too easily overwhelm the mind, don’t they? I try hard to maintain my reason.’

‘This is why I wish to tell you of my practical decision on a way forward for me. Thanks to your help I have discovered who my parents were, but also that I have no inheritance and family, apart from you.’

‘Don’t forget Lady Dauntsey and her son Davenport.’ Marina Fairley smirked.

Eliza met her mischievous eyes with a frown.

‘I’d rather forget them. It is you who are my real family.

’ She straightened her back and took a deep breath.

‘I can no longer rely on the kindness of strangers and have decided my only course is to return to Prebbles Flying Circus. Riding is my greatest skill and it’s where I belong. ’

Marina was suddenly agitated. ‘No! No, you cannot! There must be another way. You can’t go back to the circus!’

‘It has been my home for the last twelve years or so, and I have been happy enough. There is nowhere else for me. I realise it is unrealistic to think of becoming a lady’s companion or maid as I’m not practised in any ladylike activity.

I cannot become a governess as I’m too ill-educated.

I’m not like you, Marina,’ she said, her face softening as she looked up at Miss Fairley who was pacing the small room, her expression anxious and perturbed.