She’d seen little Rudi, though, a few times. He was usually scampering around the house or across the lawn with a harassed housemaid or Dakin the butler in hot pursuit. As much as she’d wanted to speak to the little boy, Maggie had always ducked out of sight. She didn’t dare let him see her; if he spoke to her in German, the game would be up.

The footsteps on the path were getting nearer. It wasn’t Jack. It was Lord Ashford. Unlike her, he was dressed for the wet weather: in boots, a long mac and hat. Maggie pushed her back against the tree trunk and held her breath, but he’d spotted her.

He smiled and tipped his hat. ‘Good morning! Miss Corbett, isn’t it?’

He’d never spoken to her before. How did he even know her name? It flashed through her mind that perhaps Jack Rosman had told him about her – ‘the girl who spoke German’ – and her stomach fell.

‘Aren’t you getting rather wet under there? Would you care to borrow an umbrella from the house?’

‘No. Thank you. It’s quite dry.’ A raindrop landed on her nose. She hoped his Lordship would walk on but he seemed in no rush. He ducked under the branches and stepped closer.

‘Say, how are you settling in, Miss Corbett?’ He was near enough that Maggie could see how his eyes crinkled at the sides in tiny smile lines.

‘Well, Sir. Thank you.’

He was only being polite, he probably asked everyone the same question.

‘It must be very different from home. Where is home, by the way?’

‘The East End, Sir.’

‘Ouch. They’ve had it bad there, haven’t they?’

Maggie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Vi’s letter had already left her feeling close to tears.

He peered at her more closely. ‘My dear young lady, you’re shivering! We can’t have you catching double pneumonia. What would I tell your mother?’

At the mention of the word ‘mother’, Maggie’s eyes filled and her lips started to tremble.

‘Oh, you’re upset. I do beg your pardon. Your letter … it wasn’t bad news, I hope?’

Maggie shook her head. ‘No. It’s … there aren’t any …’ This was going to sound daft but she’d started now. ‘There aren’t any kisses.’

He frowned. ‘No kisses?’

‘It’s from my sister, Sir, you see,’ Maggie said quickly, blushing in case he thought the letter was from a chap. ‘She’s a vackie, twenty miles from here. We worked out a code before she left home.’ She was gabbling. She stopped to catch her breath.

‘Go on.’

‘On her letters, I mean, Sir. Three kisses or more meant that everything was fine and I wasn’t to worry. But one kiss meant it was awful and I promised, if I saw one kiss, to move heaven and earth to get her out of there.’