He smelt strongly of drink.

Rose got up and tried to go round him but he seized her and began to drag her towards some thick shrubbery. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand was clamped over her mouth.

‘Such a drama about Mrs Stockton,’ Mrs Winston was saying as she walked with Harry from the lunch table.

‘I’m only glad it’s over,’ said Harry, looking around for Rose. ‘I believe her son left the country.’

‘Oh, he’s back, and I think he is as odd as his mother. I saw him peering out of the bushes while we were eating.’ She had both hands clasped round Harry’s arm.

He broke free and demanded harshly, ‘Where? Where did you see him?’

Mrs Winston pointed. ‘Over there.’

Harry strode off and left her standing looking after him.

Rose was lying in the bushes under Peregrine’s weight and fighting like a tigress. One of his hands was fumbling under her dress as he was cursing about the amount of underclothes while the other hand was still clamped over her mouth. In frantic despair, she bit savagely down on the hand covering her mouth and Peregrine snatched it away with a howl of pain.

Rose screamed, ‘Help!’ at the top of her voice.

The next thing she knew was that Peregrine was jerked off her. Harry stood there, his eyes blazing. ‘Get along,’ he said to Rose, ‘and don’t say a word to anyone.’

‘But he should be charged. He tried to rape me!’

‘Don’t say one damn word . . . please.’

He helped Rose to her feet. She smoothed down her dress and picked up her hat, which had fallen off.

Peregrine stood swaying, a leer on his face. ‘She was begging for it.’

Harry drew back his fist and struck Peregrine full on the mouth.

As Peregrine fell, he turned and saw Rose still standing there. ‘Go away!’ he roared.

Rose emerged from the shrubbery and made her way back to the party. Daisy came up to her. ‘You’re as white as sheet, and your gown is torn at the hem.’

‘Get me into the house, Daisy,’ urged Rose, ‘and then fetch some sewing materials and get me some brandy. I’ll tell you about it later.’

Harry rejoined the party half an hour later and sought out his hostess. ‘Have you seen my fiancée?’ he asked.

‘Yes, poor Lady Rose is in the library with her companion. She had a fainting fit in the gardens and tore her gown.’

‘Where is the library?’

‘Second door on the right off the hall.’

Harry walked into the library and jerked his head at Daisy. ‘Leave us alone for a bit. Where’s Lady Polly?’

‘Gone for a nap. Her ladyship always likes to lie down after luncheon and so she asked Mrs Barrington-Bruce for the use of one of the bedrooms.’

‘Good. We’ll be out shortly.’

Rose had regained some colour. Daisy had mended the tear in her gown, bathed her temples with eau de cologne and poured her a stiff measure of brandy.