‘I haven’t seen you to speak to for a few days,’ Tom said, filling the silence she left. ‘Aunt Leo says you have been ill. Are you well now?’ A crease appeared between his eyebrows, a crease Lou now recognised as a sign of his concern.

‘I’m fine. Thank you.’ She wanted to apologise for getting drunk and crying over his shirt. The words refused to come.

‘I have something for you,’ Tom said. He slipped his hand inside his breast pocket and produced a dance card. With great care, he secured it around her wrist, tying the blue ribbon into a bow. His thumb pressed into her palm. ‘I’ve put my name against the dance you owe me. There’s no point in striking it out, I won’t forget which it is.’

‘Tom! Louisa!’

Lou snatched her hand free.

‘Don’t you look just charming, Louisa,’ Emma said. She sidled up to Tom and slipped her arm through his, oblivious to the unspoken words hanging in the air.

‘And you look beautiful, Emma,’ Lou said.

‘Oh, this old frock!’ She pinched the thin strap of her crimson ball gown dismissively. ‘You couldn’t be an absolute sweetheart, could you, and dance with this dapper chap as much as you can possibly bear this evening. You’d be doing me a huge favour.’ Emma squeezed Tom’s arm. She spoke as though their earlier conversation in her room had not taken place. ‘I’m going to be busy catching up with old friends tonight, and I’m sure Tom would appreciate being spared the clutches of a horde of hungry spinsters.’ Emma looked up at Tom. His expression didn’t alter.

‘I’m not much of a dancer,’ Lou said. Of course, Emma wanted her to occupy Tom’s time, keeping him away from other women. In Emma’s eyes, dowdy, unremarkable Lou was hardly a woman at all. And definitely no threat.

‘Nonsense,’ Emma laughed. ‘I’m sure you’re a perfectly pretty dance partner. Although I must say you do look rather pale. It’s such a pity you weren’t well enough to join us at the shoot yesterday. You missed quite a scene, didn’t she, Tom. One of the beaters spotted a suffragette lurking in the woods, and he was rather too keen on hunting her down with the dogs. Imagine! You saw her, too, didn’t you, Tom? It wasn’t one of your friends, was it, Louisa?’

Lou made the mistake of looking at Tom. He seized her in the grip of his blue eyes. ‘I may have caught a glimpse of her,’ he said.

Lou felt her cheeks colour. The running around in the woods had been for nothing. He had seen her. Breaking the spell of Tom’s gaze, she became aware of Emma staring at her. Almost imperceptibly, Emma’s top lip twitched. She released Tom, and grabbed Lou’s hand. ‘Come on. I’ll introduce you to some of my friends. Perhaps you’re right; you’re not well enough to dance after all.’

Emma was forceful in dragging her away, and Lou was powerless to resist. She glanced over her shoulder, but Tom had already disappeared; swallowed up in the mêlée.