“Aunt Laura, I’ve no idea of what you mean. Indeed, I am astonished to find you abroad so early.”

“I told you, my love, The Duke of Rochester has come to call on you. He’s been here half an hour already. Poor Illingworth has been obliged to talk to him. I could not remain in the same room, he puts me all in a flutter, he stares at one in such a way as to make you believe you have a smut upon your nose.”

Isobel was dumbfounded; for such an illustrious person to make his appearance but a few hours after the end of the ball was incredible. Had he been as taken with her as she was with him? Had their encounter in Norfolk made her seem a friend and not a stranger?

“I had better not waste time by returning to my chamber and changing from my riding habit.” The look of horror she received from her aunt made her laugh. “He cannot expect us to be in our finery if he chooses to call so early. This is a very becoming habit, it exactly matches my eyes, have you not told me so several times before?”

Not waiting to hear the reply Isobel walked straight across the chequered entrance hall and into the drawing-room. Two heads turned. Her uncle was patently relieved and the duke showed unmistakable appreciation in his eyes.

She dipped in a deep curtsy; the jaunty ostrich feather on the brim of her military style swept the floor. Straightening, she gazed across the room at the two men, waiting for one of them to speak.

“Lady Isobel, forgive me for calling so early, but like you I am in the habit of riding before anyone else is around. I wished to invite you to drive in the park with me this afternoon.”

She was surprised at his statement. He did not look like a man who relished exercise at any time. Then she recalled his wild appearance last year and reconsidered. He had a slightly jaded air about him today, as if he had been spending his days in idle pursuits not something as invigorating as a gallop around Hyde Park.