She looked confused. ‘Well, you did ask me to check Ted’s office. I suppose we should stop calling it that now. And I managed to send some tweets. Olivia immediately retweeted them and we’ve had some new followers …’

I sank on to a dining chair, not really listening; the envelope was too interesting. It was handwritten and postmarked London. I tore it open with a mix of dread and anticipation. I didn’t recognize the handwriting which meant it wasn’t likely to be from Harvey, but I wouldn’t have put it past him to disguise his writing. Or it could be from Jensen.

Please let it be from Jensen.

I pulled two sheets of paper from the envelope clumsily, desperate to see who it was from.

It was from Jensen.

My heart swelled with joy. He had written to me after all. I tuned back into Marjorie, willing her to go so I could read the letter in private. She’d stopped talking and her eyes were wide open in surprise.

‘The ring!’ She pointed at my fake engagement ring.

I fiddled with it, feeling my cheeks heat up. Now I was going to have to explain why I was wearing it and make an idiot of myself in the process. ‘Pretty, isn’t it?’

She nodded. ‘It’s the Butterworth ring.’

I frowned. ‘Well, Jensen gave it to me, but he just got it from T—’

‘Ted,’ Marjorie supplied before I could say Topshop. ‘His granddad left it to him. It’s very valuable. Oh, Lottie.’

Her expression had gone all dreamy and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

‘But …’ I stared down at the ring I’d casually chucked in my drawer when I got back from London ten days ago.

Now that I looked at it, it was obviously the real thing. How could I ever have thought it was costume jewellery? It was heavy and felt solid but more than that … it was exquisite. Oh God. My spirits sank. That was probably what he was writing to me about: he wanted the family heirloom back. I slipped it off my finger and put it on the table.

‘I had no idea,’ I said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Marjorie could hardly keep the lid on her excitement.

‘That ring has been passed down the Butterworth male line for several generations. Ted and Ron’s father gave it to their mother when he proposed to her.’ She pressed a hand to her chest. ‘And now Jensen has given it to you. I must admit, Betsy and I did wonder when we heard that radio presenter, Fiona Thingumabob talking about it.’

‘Please don’t read anything into it.’ My mouth had gone dry. ‘Really. We had to pretend to be engaged so that I’d be eligible to do the radio interview, that was all. We’re just friends.’