Clover stared in frustration as the door closed behind him. She stood patiently – as patiently as she could – for a few minutes, but she couldn’t stand not knowing what was going on. She peered her head out and listened up the stairs. She couldn’t hear shouts or the clamour of things being broken. She looked down towards the lift . . . She could get up there almost silently, see if she could hear anything from the top landing . . .

‘Don’t even think about it.’ Johnny came back down the stairs again, drinks in his hands. ‘Get back in there.’

She went back into the bedroom. ‘Well? Did you hear anything?’

‘Nothing specific. Raised voices, but not so loud I could make out what they were saying.’

‘I should go up there.’

‘No.’ He thrust the tumbler into her hand.

‘But now’s the time to get him to talk. While he’s upset. If he calms down—’

‘No. He’s angry and that’ll make him erratic. And if those allegations are true . . .’ He gave her a warning look. ‘Let him just sit with it overnight . . . Now drink up.’ And he threw his head back and downed his cognac.

Clover watched, then followed suit. She winced as it burned her throat.

Johnny was watching her. ‘Better?’ he asked after a moment.

She nodded, sinking onto the bed. ‘Do you think we should tell Mats? She could warn Julian.’

‘I imagine they already know. Word spreads fast with scandals.’ He gave her a bemused look. ‘At least she’s there to comfort him.’ His tone was flat.

Clover watched him as he wandered over to Matty’s toiletry counter and began aimlessly fiddling with the bottles and potions. He looked baffled by the vast array. ‘. . . Why does she need all this stuff?’ he muttered. ‘It doesn’t make her any more beautiful.’

‘You think she’s beautiful?’

He half-turned his head. ‘I didn’t say that.’

‘You said “It doesn’t make her any more beautiful.” Not – “It doesn’t make her beautiful.”’

He groaned. ‘Don’t start interviewing me.’ He had his back to her as he absently picked up and put down the various different bottles and ointments on the counter. She watched him smell Matty’s perfume.

‘Why don’t you tell her how you feel?’ she asked quietly.

‘And what would that be?’ he asked sharply.

‘That you’re nuts about her.’

‘Don’t be idiotic! She drives me mad. I think she’s a horrific snob. And she thinks I’m a horrific slob.’

‘Perhaps you should tell her you’ve got a title, then.’

Johnny went very still. ‘How do you know about that?’

Clover sighed. ‘It was on a letter to you once – the Right Honourable Jonathan Dashwood.’