The smile deepened. ‘I should think all fashionable London knows Lady Merion. However, in my case, she’s a particularly close friend of my mother’s.’

‘Please, tell me what she’s like?’ It was his turn to be surprised. Seeing it, she rushed on, ‘You see, I’ve not met her since I was a child, except for the one night she spent at Darent Hall earlier this year, when she came to tell us we were to come to London.’

Hazelmere, reflecting that this conversation was undoubtedly the strangest he had ever conducted with a personable young lady, helped her over the stile and into the lane, then fell to considering Lady Merion. ‘Well, your grandmother has always been a leader of fashion, and is well connected with all the old tabbies who matter in London. She’s thick as thieves with Lady Jersey and Princess Esterhazy. Both are patronesses of Almack’s, to which you must gain entry if you wish to belong to the ton. In your case, that hurdle will not be a problem. Lady Merion is independently wealthy and lives in a mansion on Cavendish Square, left her by her second husband, George, Lord Merion. She married him some years after your grandfather’s death and he died about five years ago, I think. She’s something of a tartar, and a high stickler, so I would advise you not to attempt to wander London unattended! On the other hand, she has an excellent sense of humour and is known as being kind and generous to her friends. She’s in some ways eccentric and rarely leaves London except to visit friends in the country. All in all, I doubt you could find a lady more capable of launching you and your sister successfully into the ton.’

Dorothea pondered this potted biography, finally remarking in a pensive tone, ‘She did seem very fashionable.’

‘She is certainly that,’ he agreed.

They had reached a gate in the high stone wall that had bordered the lane for the last hundred yards. Dorothea stopped and reached for the basket. ‘These are the gardens of the Grange.’