It was this thought that occupied Lou throughout the grand meal while everyone else tucked into Chef Gotti’s pheasant liver pâté, roast goose and fine patisserie. An air of conviviality floated across the table, above the crystal and silver, and around the stunning arrangement of Sir Charles’ hothouse blooms. But, for Lou, it was tainted with the burden of secrets. She sat in a void, unable to stomach a morsel. With so many other guests, her opinions weren’t sought. She sipped a glass of water, not a mouthful of wine passed her lips. She needed to keep a clear, unmuddled head.

After the meal, rather than retreating to the library or billiard room, the men joined the women for coffee. The drawing room was thick with the sweet smell of cigar smoke and the floral scent of perfumed oils. A programme of musical entertainment had been arranged, and one of the male guests sat at the grand piano in the corner, an enthralled audience tapping their feet to the lively tune he played.

Lou sat before the fire. Swirling her brandy, she watched the thick amber liquid stick to the inside of the glass. Conversation bubbled in the groups around her; the tinkle of laughter and the rounded sound of voices raised in high spirits. Across the room, Tom stood amongst a small group. He said something that caused his entourage to laugh. Emma smiled beautifully and touched his elbow. Lou slammed her glass down on the table.

‘Are you quite well, Louisa?’

Mrs Hart took a seat beside her.

‘Yes … yes, of course. Thank you,’ Lou said.

‘You barely ate enough dinner to sustain a sparrow.’

Emma laughed again. Lou looked towards her and Tom and experienced an unwelcome sensation; like the walls of the drawing room falling in and crushing the air from her chest.

She turned back and found that she had come under Mrs Hart’s scrutiny.

‘Oh, Louisa,’ Mrs Hart said.

‘It’s not what you think.’ Lou protested, but the look on Mrs Hart’s face showed she had read her innermost thoughts like an open book.

‘Please don’t say anything,’ Lou begged.

‘I hope you know me better than to think I would betray you, Louisa,’ Mrs Hart said quietly. ‘You know that I will not interfere with whatever it is that you must do while you are here. But it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t warn you about Emma. I adore her, but you should know that you must be on your guard. When she is your friend, she is your very best friend. There’s not a thing she wouldn’t do for you, not a kindness she wouldn’t bestow. But cross her and …’ Mrs Hart glanced towards George, who was slumped in a chair. ‘Never forget that Emma Caxton is her brother’s sister. Her temper may be better hidden, but she can turn in an instant. If she thought for one moment that any woman had designs in the direction of –’