Mr Pembroke dropped the heavy valise he was carrying with a plonk and frowned. ‘Miranda! But what is she doing here? She should be in France.’ He had no chance to say any more as the drawing room door opened and Miranda rushed out and threw her arms about him.

‘Oh, Father, I’m so pleased you’re back,’ she gushed, tears pouring down her cheeks. ‘I’ve been having such a dreadful time. I just had to come home!’

‘All right, all right, give me a chance to get in,’ he said somewhat shortly. ‘And then you can tell me what’s going on.’

She sniffed and disappeared back into the drawing room dabbing at her plump cheeks with a handkerchief as Oscar raised an eyebrow at Serena and removed his hat and coat.

‘Will you excuse me? I’d better go and find out what’s wrong.’

‘Of course.’ Serena nodded and when he disappeared off after Miranda, she sighed, the happy mood broken, for now at least.

‘So, tell me what’s happened,’ Oscar demanded going to stand in front of the fire.

Miranda threw herself dramatically onto the sofa and sniffed. ‘It was the girls at school, Father. They were bullying me. I didn’t want to trouble you about it before but it got so bad that I couldn’t take it anymore, so I left.’

Oscar frowned. ‘You mean Madame Babineaux allowed you to travel back here all alone?’

‘She didn’t know I was going. I left a note and made my way to the ferry then when I got to England, I caught the train back here. I couldn’t go to Mother because she’s away with Lord Chumley again.’

‘I see.’ Oscar was aware that the amount of time Lydia was holidaying with her new beau was causing quite a scandal but he didn’t care about that. He began to pace up and down the room. If what Miranda was saying was true it was appalling. The school had seemed such a happy place when he had visited it and Madame Babineaux certainly hadn’t seemed the sort of woman who would allow such behaviour to go on under her roof. Eventually, he sighed. ‘Very well, you can stay here until your mother returns, and in the meantime I shall have a thing or two to say about this to Madame Babineaux.’

Miranda’s tears miraculously stopped, as though someone had turned off a tap, and the first niggle of doubt wriggled its way through Oscar. He knew of old that Miranda could lie through her teeth when it suited her, but she was his daughter, so for now he would just have to take her word for it.

He had hoped to dine with Serena that evening but because of Miranda’s return she chose to eat in the kitchen with the staff and he and Miranda ate in the dining room.