‘Her family, or more specifically her guardian.’ Sebastian clasped his hand to his breast. ‘Robert Montemorcy is the sort of man whose library is entirely filled with books from The Gentleman’s Manual to Libraries. He probably has never been outside England.’

‘Robert Montemorcy was educated in Edinburgh, at the Sorbonne in Paris, and studied chemistry in Germany,’ Henri replied evenly, disliking Sebastian’s curled-lip sneer. She might be upset with Mr Montemorcy, but it didn’t mean that others could abuse him. ‘He has a wide range of business interests, including an ironworks that makes most of the steel and iron for the railways. And he is a highly accomplished chemist. He is a great believer in the “Scientific Method” and a stalwart of the Lit. and Phil.’

‘You mean he makes money, but what clubs does he belong to? What titles has he inherited? Who were his ancestors?’

‘Sebastian, is that really important? What matters is that Mr Montemorcy purchased Chestercamp field.’

‘Montemorcy purchased that field!’ He clapped his hand to his head. ‘It all makes a sickening sense. I’m undone. Why is Fate so cruel?’

‘He kept you out of debtors’ prison.’

‘Spare me the village gossip, Henrietta. It was never going to come to that. I was simply short of a few readies to pay Papa’s bills. You should never have suggested to Mr Montemorcy anything different and now…’

‘You’re being obstinate.’ Henri crossed her arms. Montemorcy had been all sympathy when she encountered him out on a walk and she had given up hope of selling the field. They had fallen to discussing Romans. It had been the start of their enjoyable conversations. Her throat tasted like ashes. Maybe it would have been better if they’d stayed distant neighbours.

‘Mr Montemorcy bought the field because he is interested in bringing a scientific method to excavating Roman remains. Aunt Frances is terribly excited about the prospect.’

‘More to the point, Montemorcy has caused Sophie to be moved to Northumberland under the pretext of broadening her education. As if the biddies who control the Season could not see through that threadbare excuse.’ Sebastian snapped his perfectly manicured fingers. ‘Northumberland? Why not Italy or France? I wrote to Sophie that she should make sure he took her abroad, but the note was returned…unopened with the injunction never to contact her again.’

Henri went cold. Sending Sebastian’s letter back was a mistake of the highest order if Robert Montemorcy had wanted to dissuade Sebastian. If only Robert Montemorcy had asked her advice, she’d have explained. Sebastian was easily handled as long as he thought the idea had emerged from his own brain. Sebastian always pursued the unattainable until it became attainable and then he lost interest. And he’d never ruined a Diamond. He never would. He knew where society’s lines were drawn. Robert Montemorcy should have had more sense. He should have sought her advice; now, she had a lovelorn Sebastian to contend with.

‘What did you do to Miss Ravel to have her removed from London? She should be enjoying the Season.’

‘Nothing.’ He held up his hand and his face became utterly angelic. ‘I swear to God, Henrietta. We were only talking…in the library with the door closed. I wanted to know if a heavenly creature like her could ever love a sinner like me, but her stepmother happened in and had an attack of vapours, which led on to unprecedented hysterics.’ A distinct shudder went through him. ‘It was ghastly. I suggested Miss Ravel dose her stepmother with water to bring her to her senses, but Miss Ravel flat out refused.’

‘Sebastian, if you are trying to flannel me about your debts, I will never forgive you.’

‘I love Sophie, Henri, truly I do. Her dowry means nothing to me.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘I would run away with her in an instant…even if she was a pauper. It is her infuriating guardian causing all the problems. He has no right to control Sophie’s life and impose restrictions on mine.’

‘If the lady is truly your love, you will find a way. I did with Edmund. I was the one who proposed, remember?’ Henri tapped her fingers against her thigh. Sebastian would have to understand. This time, she was not going to get involved. ‘You have to believe, Sebastian. And you do not need me.’

‘Is that your final word?’ His eyes narrowed and flashed.

‘Yes. I facilitate matches for no man. Not any more.’ Henri fluffed out her skirt, making certain the top flounce fell correctly, and reached for the bell to summon Reynolds. She had won. She had proved that she could remain aloof from Sebastian’s schemes. Success. Robert Montemorcy was completely wrong. She did know when to stop. ‘And in a few weeks, you will have forgotten all about this Sophie Ravel.’