“I’ve got a couple of her early editions; beautiful still lifes. Botanical drawings were one of the few forms of art women were encouraged to partake of at that time,” said Nory. “Plants were considered a genteel enough subject for ladies.” She rolled her eyes, looking at Isaac, but he seemed momentarily somewhere else; she wondered where.

“Like interior design,” said Jenna slyly, and Camille laughed.

“So, gardening well and truly runs in your blood,” said Ameerah.

Her question seemed to draw Isaac back to the present.

“It must be a very mindful job,” said Camille.

“It is,” Isaac agreed, his good humor returning as quickly as it had faded.

“Any job you don’t have to think about is mindful,” added Guy.

“As someone whose family business is growing plants, I can assure you that gardening takes a good deal of thought, especially with gardens the size of Robinwood,” Nory retorted, rather more snappishly than she’d meant to.

“Really, Guy, you’re too much sometimes,” Jenna chided.

“I’m only joking, don’t get your Bridget Jones pants in a twist!” Guy laughed and took another sip of his wine.

Camille looked suddenly tired again, the affection of moments ago having clearly worn off.

“Well, you can come and be mindful in our garden if you like,” said Charles. “I’ve got more important things to do than titting about in the rhododendrons, and Jenna’s on set from dawn till dusk most days. We just haven’t got the time.”

Isaac smiled graciously. “Thank you, but I don’t have the time to tit about with your rhododendrons either; maintaining ten and a half acres of formal gardens is a full-time occupation.”

Charles flushed instantly, and Jenna shot him a furious look. But at that moment the dessert course arrived, and the subject quickly changed to the trios of French patisseries laid before each guest.

Nory was mortified both for Isaac and Charles. Charles didn’t mean to be a snob, it was just his way; he was thoughtless and buffoonish but ultimately well-meaning. And poor Isaac. Nory was used to being inadvertently made to feel like the lucky peasant at the party. She knew her friends didn’t really mean anything by it. It wasn’t anyone’s fault; they were all the products of their upbringings, no matter which tax bracket they came from.

After dinner Isaac made a graceful exit, thanking his hosts while accepting humble apologies from them, especially Charles, who seemed genuinely mortified by what he termed his “giant boob.”

“You’re not leaving because of Guy and Charles, are you?” Nory asked as they stood in the courtyard. She had borrowed a heavy coat and a pair of Wellingtons from the boot room, which looked incongruous with her velvet evening dress.