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to rest. Bridget should accompany Eugenia on her constitutional.
    The air was sharp. Eugenia wore one of her aunt’s old fur hats. Tucked in her muff was the letter for the Marquis. She would walk as far as Kensington Gore and post it there.
    Eugenia walked swiftly – too swiftly for Bridget, who lagged sullenly behind. Eugenia’s cheeks were soon rosy with exertion.
    The Broad Walk, when she reached it, was busy. Ladies strolled arm in arm, boys bowled hoops or chased each other up and down, open carriages drove by at a sedate pace.
    â€œMiss Dovedale!”
    Eugenia looked up as one such carriage drew close. She paled when she recognised the Marquis of Buckbury.
    â€œMy Lord!”
    The Marquis called to his driver, who brought the vehicle to a halt. Eugenia dropped a curtsy as the Marquis stepped out.
    â€œHow delightful to encounter you, Miss Dovedale. Might I walk with you a little?”
    The Marquis spoke in so civil a tone that Eugenia did not know how to refuse.
    â€œIf – if you so wish,” she stammered.
    The Marquis gestured to his driver to follow and then he and Eugenia set off at a stroll. 
    â€œIt’s a fine day to be out, Miss Dovedale.”
    â€œYes, it is, my Lord.”
    â€œI trust your mother is well?”
    â€œShe is – indisposed today.”
    â€œI am sorry to hear that.”
    â€œBut I am not alone, all the same – you see – there is Bridget behind.”
    The Marquis turned gravely to acknowledge the presence of Bridget. Then he and Eugenia continued to walk in silence.
    â€˜He is waiting for me to thank him for his gifts!’ Eugenia thought.
    She knew she should thank him there and then, but she felt as if the words would stick in her throat. The truth was, in her heart, that she did not thank him at all! Yet the longer she remained silent, the more difficult it would be to broach the subject.
    She drew to a sudden halt and stood with lowered eyes, tracing a line in the gravel of the Broad Walk with the toe of her boot. Bridget, some ten paces behind, flopped down thankfully onto a bench and yawned. The Marquis, puzzled, stopped as well.
    â€œI – have a letter for you – in my muff,” ventured Eugenia at last.
    The Marquis raised an eyebrow.  “In your muff?”
    Eugenia looked up. “Yes.  It – it thanks you for your gifts – ”
    The Marquis bowed.
    â€œBut – ”
    He waited.
    â€œBut?” he prompted.
    Eugenia faltered. “P-perhaps you should read it.” She withdrew the letter from her muff and held it out.
    The Marquis took the letter and opened it. He read in silence.
    â€œYou put it most succinctly,” he said when he had finished. “You neither sought nor welcomed my gifts – ” 
    Eugenia nodded.
    â€œ – and you do not wish to accept my invitation to Lady Bescombe’s ball.”
    Eugenia bit her lip and nodded again.
    â€œMiss Dovedale,” he said, “I understand that I may have in some way offended your pride.  In my defence, I should explain that I simply wished to help the family of a gentleman for whom I felt both affection and respect.”
    Eugenia felt uncomfortable. This was not how she had imagined the Marquis would respond.
    â€œYou – are speaking most kindly – considering that I have been – rather rude,” she murmured in a low voice.
    â€œRude?”
    â€œAt Lady Granton’s – I commented on – ”
    She could not finish.
    The corner of the Marquis’s lips twitched.  “The fact that I – was of a greater age than when we last met?”
    Eugenia dropped her head. “Yes.”
    â€œMy dear Miss Dovedale, I must admit I was nonplussed at your remark, but it did not take long for me to see that I should attribute it to the – inexperience of tender youth. A youth,” he added with a slight smile, “so far behind me it is almost a