Was it her imagination, or did his face soften? Was that a look of sympathy or – more likely – exasperation? She was most definitely in his bad books after that ridiculous business with the cat on the train.

He’d been looking for her. Heaven only knew why. It certainly wasn’t to flirt with her. Pam and Nancy had said he was a terrible flirt but she’d not seen any evidence of it. Perhaps they’d got him confused with someone else. Or perhaps – and this was more likely – Maggie just wasn’t his type.

She felt a thud of disappointment. Ray Maguire wasn’t going to allow her to escape. He took the stairs two at a time, his long legs making short work of the distance to the top.

‘Anything the matter, Miss Corbett?’

It wasn’t her place to suggest that away from the office, they might use first names. She’d already started to think of him as ‘Ray’ but clearly that wasn’t right.

She forced a smile. ‘No! Thank you, Mr Maguire. Everything’s tickety-boo.’

Tickety-boo? Maggie winced. She’d never used that expression before in her life.

He was smiling at her now. Laughing, probably. He held out the crook of his arm. ‘Shall we?’

Had he guessed she’d felt like running away? More likely, he remembered how she’d almost somersaulted her way into Rosman’s that first morning and he didn’t trust her to navigate the stairs.

Maggie took his arm awkwardly, resting her hand so it was barely touching his shirt sleeve. It was easier than offending him by saying she could manage.

Ray Maguire had now rescued her twice. If he hadn’t waited on the platform and heaved her onto the train at Paddington, she wouldn’t have made it to Snowden Hall. And now, without his shepherding, she’d probably have missed the welcome drinks altogether. Which mightn’t have been a bad thing. She wasn’t sure whether to be grateful to him or not.

As they reached the last step and a passing waitress directed them through the Long Gallery, Maggie removed her hand from Ray’s arm. She wondered if she was going to have to spend the whole evening with him.

The Gallery was long and narrow, with an aisle down the middle and, unexpectedly, it was laid out with rows of desks. Some of the desks had covered typewriters on them.

Maggie gasped. ‘Is this …?’

‘Impressive, isn’t it? Yes, this is our banking hall,’ Ray said, standing a little taller. ‘Rosman’s will be run from here.’

Imagine working in such a place! It was more like a beautiful, treasure-filled museum than an office. At the far end stood two cabinets, filled with plates, glasses and ornaments.