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all intents and purposes a repeat of Nelson’s tactics at the Nile. So give me a man who defies convention when necessary: he’s more likely to win the battle.”
    “Do you defy convention?” the earl inquired mischievously and then almost immediately waved his pipe to dismiss the remark. “No, that’s unfair: no conventions so far have governed the sort of things you’ve done; you–” he grinned, “–favour the bizarre rather than the unconventional!”
    “Which heading do I come under – bizarre or unconventional?” Sarah inquired sweetly.
    “Oh, bizarre; definitely bizarre. After all, didn’t Nicholas find you in mysterious circumstances off some island near Brazil?”
    “At least my father-in-law is more unconventional than Nicholas’; I’m afraid my father is rectitude personified.”
    “We need a stable marquis in the family,” the earl said, eyes twinkling. “It adds respectability to what would otherwise be a rout.”

Chapter Three
    As Raven drove the carriage along Piccadilly, Sarah turned to Ramage and said: “I haven’t felt so nervous for a long time!”
    Ramage looked at her pale-blue dress, bonnet of slightly darker blue, and her face, which still had some Mediterranean sun-tan. He reached across and put a wisp of the tawny hair back in place. “I don’t know why you worry. I’ll be very jealous if Lord Nelson looks at you for more than five seconds at a time!”
    “I’m not worrying about His Lordship,” Sarah said, “it’s Lady Hamilton. I haven’t the faintest idea how to talk to her!”
    Ramage thought for a moment, watching coaches clatter along in the opposite direction. “Think of her as the widow of Sir William Hamilton. She was a good deal younger than Sir William when they married, but he became a good friend of Lord Nelson’s and the – er, well, the relationship developed from there.”
    “The fact is,” she admitted with a smile, “I haven’t much experience dealing with famous men’s mistresses!”
    “You’d have been one if I’d been married – you told father that yesterday,” Ramage said, smiling. “I like thinking of you as my mistress: much more stimulating than regarding you as my wife.”
    Sarah pouted at the left-handed compliment. “I’ll never hear the last of that. Anyway, you’re not as famous as Nelson yet.”
    “Give me time – he has fifteen years or so advantage on me! Ah, this is Clarges Street.”
    Just then, Raven stopped the carriage, asked a passer-by for directions, and called to Ramage: “We’re almost there, sir. The house is this end.”
    The houses were small but well proportioned. As he reached for his hat and gloves and hitched at his sword, Ramage tried to recall the last time he had seen the admiral. He had been only a commodore then. Yes, Bastia, in Corsica, when Commodore Nelson had given him his first command, the Kathleen cutter. After that he had seen him only in the distance, striding his quarterdeck (a minuscule figure recognizable in the telescope lens only because of his stance) in the brief minutes at the battle of Cape St Vincent before the Kathleen cutter was sunk by a Spanish three-decker.
    That battle had brought Nelson a baronetcy. It had also brought Sir John Jervis the earldom (of St Vincent) that he did not deserve but, as father had said, St Vincent had done his best to make it up to Nelson ever since.
    The carriage came to a stop. Ramage heard Raven pulling on the brake; then the folding steps clattered down, the door was flung open and a grinning Raven stood waiting to help Sarah down. Grinning, Ramage knew, because Raven, long accustomed to rural life and more used to setting snares than opening carriage doors, was enjoying the sudden change (quite apart from being proud of his new livery of dark blue edged with gold) and delighting in the gold griffin now painted on the door of the carriage Ramage had also inherited from his uncle.
    Ramage followed Sarah, then took her arm and led her to the