“You could always marry me,” he said, pronouncing it, of course “mawwy.”

I laughed. “What, and trade a freezing and empty house for a bedsitter in Bromley? It’s a sweet offer, Tristram, but I hardly think you’re in a position to support a wife, nor will be for some time.”

“I may be,” he said. “If I come into my guardian’s fortune . . .”

“What a horrid thing to say,” I snapped, my nerves close to breaking point by this time. “You almost sound as if you’re hoping Sir Hubert dies.”

“Not hoping. Good Lord, no,” he stammered. “Nothing’s further from the truth. I worship the old boy. He couldn’t have been kinder to me. But I’m only going by what the quacks have said and they have impressed upon me that the outcome is not likely to be good. Bad head injuries, you know. In a coma.”

“So sad,” I said. “If it’s head injuries, then I’d rather he died. Such an energetic man could never be a lifelong invalid.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Tristram agreed. “So I’m trying to hope for the best, but prepared to accept the worst.”

Suddenly I couldn’t stand there chatting a second longer without exploding. “Look, Tristram, I am most pleased to see you, but I have to go now. I’m . . . meeting someone for tea and I have to change.”

“Another time, maybe? At the weekend? I had promised to show you London, had I not?”

“Yes, you had. And I’m looking forward to it, but I’m not sure what I’ll be doing on Saturday and Sunday.” (I can’t use the word “weekend,” even in moments of stress.) “My brother is in town, you know. I may have family matters to attend to.”

“Your brother? I don’t believe I’ve met him.”

“You probably wouldn’t have. He’s my half brother, actually, and he would have been away at school when I came to stay with my mother at Sir Hubert’s.”

“Where did he go to school?”

“Gairlachan. That formidable place in the Highlands.”

“With the cross-country runs and cold showers at dawn? Just like the Spartan boys. The weak die and the strong become empire builders.”

“That’s the one.”

“Sir Hubert threatened to send me there if I didn’t pull my socks up, but he settled for Downside instead, since Mama was a Catholic and he wanted to honor her wishes. I must say I was relieved. Those monks like their creature comforts.”

“That’s where you were at school with Darcy?”

“O’Mara, you mean?” His face clouded. “Yes, he was a couple of years above me but we were in the same house.” He leaned closer to me, even though we were the only two people on a deserted pavement. “Look, Georgie, I meant what I said the other day. He’s a bad egg, you know. Untrustworthy, just like a typical Irishman. Shake hands and then stab you in the back as soon as you turn away.” He paused and looked at me. “You’re not—er, involved with him, are you?”