The inspector was more concerned to note that Digby’s eyes never strayed far from the upturned, animated face of Rosamund. He’d seen men paying court to suitable but unloved ladies before and was shocked to realise that in the scene being played out, young Digby would appear not to conform to that stereotype in the slightest. He was chattering away in a completely natural manner, bending his ear down to her level to hear her responses and laughing heartily. Uncle Gerald’s dryly flippant comment came back to him: “Choose a woman who can make you laugh, Johnny—that’s life’s secret.”

The villain Gisbourne seemed to have hit the jackpot. Rosa would make a wonderful wife for a rising—or risen—Tory politician. Hostess, aide-de-camp, confidante. But, even leaving aside the murdering nature of the man, how did Gisbourne measure up? Rich, ambitious, philanthropic, conversable . . . good-looking if you didn’t mind that lofty, captain-of-the-first-eleven look, he supposed. Redfyre sighed.

With a surprising change in tempo and tone, but with no less enthusiasm, the band swung into “The Vienna Woods,” and a troupe of a dozen couples forming a double line drifted, swooning faces and twinkling feet into the dance, circling, interlacing, forming and re-forming figures. How in hell they managed that on a road surface Redfyre was at a loss to imagine, but he was resolving, like many in the crowd, to sign up for classes as soon as he could arrange it.

Naughty Rosa had been less than truthful about Digby’s prowess on the dance floor, he decided. The chap was no Alexis, but he moved with skill and seemed to be greatly enjoying himself. But Redfyre decided to mark him out of ten only when he’d seen his tango.

He reckoned Digby scored well on his fox-trot. The couples floated around, swaying and gliding effortlessly to a sweet jazz tune Redfyre thought he recognised: “Whispering.” Then, in contrast, came the part that everyone had been looking forward to—the class demonstration of the tango. After a solo on the bandoneon so thrilling and musical Redfyre swore he’d never listen to an accordion again, they plunged into the dance he’d seen Rosa rehearsing. To his irritation, he noticed Gisbourne was throatily singing the words into her ear in the smoochy parts. To his further irritation, he had to mark him seven out of ten for the full performance.

As soon as the dance ended and the free-for-all broke out, Rosa was faced with a line of eager young blades who fancied their chances of being taught a move or two by the prettiest girl present. All blocking his way.

Chewing over his disappointment, he found himself being tapped on the shoulder. He spun round to find Dorine laughing at him. “May I have this dance?” she asked. “You see, I have chosen my pupil. I’m out to recruit you!”