I experimented with lighting a fire in my own room and by the end of the evening I had a very smoky room, but a crackling blaze going. I was quite proud of myself. Binky’s bedroom was ready for him, with clean sheets and windows opened. I laid a fire in his grate and went to bed satisfied.

On Monday morning I went into the Times office and placed an advertisement for the front page. I provided a post office box to reply to, as I didn’t think Binky would take kindly to requests for a char lady coming to Rannoch House. Then I went to the Tattler and repeated the process.

I had just returned home when there was a knock at the front door. I went to answer it and found a strange man on the doorstep. He was a sinister-looking figure, dressed from head to toe in black—long black overcoat and broad-brimmed black hat tilted forward so that it was hard to see his eyes. What I could see of his face I didn’t like. He might have been good-looking once, but he had one of those faces that has started to sag. And it had the pasty pallor of one who is not often in the fresh air. Nobody at Castle Rannoch ever had such a complexion. At least the biting wind produced the rosiest of cheeks.

“I am ’ere to see zee duke,” he said in what sounded like a French accent. “You will inform him immediately that Gaston de Mauxville has arrived.”

“I’m sorry but the duke hasn’t arrived himself yet,” I said. “I don’t expect him until this afternoon.”

“Most inconvenient,” he said, slapping one black leather glove against the palm of his other hand.

“He’s expecting you, is he?”

“Of course. I shall come in and wait.” He attempted to push past me.

“I’m afraid you won’t,” I said, taking an instant dislike to the man’s arrogant manner. “I don’t know you. I suggest you come back later.”

“Why, you impudent girl. I’ll have you dismissed.” He raised a glove and I thought for a moment he was going to strike me. “Do you know to whom you are speaking?”

“More to the point, do you know to whom you are speaking?” I said, giving him my most frosty stare. “I am the duke’s sister, Lady Georgiana.”

At this his bluster subsided, but he continued to splutter.

“But you open the door like a ’ousemaid. Most irregular, most embarrassing.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but the staff are still in Scotland, I am in the house alone, and I’m sure you would agree that my brother would not want me to entertain a strange man, unchaperoned.”

“Very well,” he said. “You will inform your brother that I expect to see him the moment he arrives. I am staying at Claridge’s.”

“I’ll inform him, but I don’t know of his plans,” I said. “Do you have a card?”

“Somewhere,” he said, patting various pockets, “but in this instance a card will not be necessary, I believe.”