“His wife claims he is. Actually I think she’s just naturally stingy, and she doesn’t want any of their money spent on me. She’s told me over and over that Binky’s responsibility for me ended when I had my season. It’s my fault that I haven’t married well.”

“Speaking of marriage . . .” She paused. “What news of Darcy? He’s still in the picture, isn’t he?”

“When he’s around,” I said. I stared out past her, at the white painted front door. “I haven’t seen him in a while. You know Darcy. He shows up, it’s heaven and then he goes again and I never know where he is or when he’ll come back. He’s the most infuriating man, Belinda. He doesn’t even have a proper London address. He borrows friends’ houses when they are out of town, sleeps on their couches. And half the time he can’t tell me where he’s going.”

“Georgie, who does he actually work for when he takes these little jobs—do you know? Do you think it’s something frightfully illegal, like drug running for gangsters?”

“Golly, I don’t think so,” I replied. “Some of the things he does do tend to be remarkably hush-hush. I think he takes almost any assignment he’s offered, but mostly on the right side of the law.” I looked around and lowered my voice, even though we were alone and the storm was raging. “In fact sometimes I think he might be employed as a spy by the government on occasion. He doesn’t say and I don’t ask. I know he’s trying to make enough money so that we can get married. . . .”

“You’re engaged, darling?” She grabbed my hands.

I felt my cheeks going red. “Well, sort of secretly. We can’t announce an engagement until Darcy feels he can support me, and heaven knows when that might be. I’ve told him I wouldn’t mind living in a little flat, but he’s determined to do the thing properly.”

“Of course he is.” She was looking at me wistfully. “You’re so lucky, Georgie. You’ve a wonderful future to look forward to with a terrific man who loves you.”

This was so unlike Belinda that I turned to look at her. “Belinda—you’ll meet the right chap, I know you will. You’ve got a brighter future than I because you’re so talented.”

“Dear Georgie.” She reached out to hug me. “You’re so nice. You deserve to be happy.”

“Cheer up, Belinda. Everything will work out splendidly,” I said. “You’ll find a job, or your father will relent and give you some money . . . and aren’t you set to inherit something from your grandmother?”