As Raymond turned he caught sight of them. He released Nancy from his arms, reached for the silver-topped cane propped on the wall, and put himself between Nancy and the intruders, as if to spare her embarrassment. Framed by the light of the hall outside, Nathaniel White looked almost angelic. He nodded knowingly, then slipped back out, the door closing behind them.

‘Maynard Charles had him locked away, but he’s been bringing her here for the last three days, ever since the doctors told him he could try putting weight on his foot again. She’s a . . .’ Vivienne could hardly say the word. She clenched her fists, and Nathaniel noticed for the first time that she was trembling. She was perspiring too. A droplet appeared on her forehead and trickled unnoticed down her cheek. ‘She’s a chambermaid,’ she finally spat. ‘He’s tutoring her. Or she’s helping him recover. And . . .’

That’s why, she wanted to say. That’s why you’re here, and that’s why you’ll be the star of the Grand. Raymond de Guise needs to learn you don’t reject a lady. But something stopped her. She did not know how he would react. Men were such vain and foolish creatures. If you damaged their pride once, they too often took a lifetime to recover. They needed handling carefully. She’d learned that in New York – all of those sons of bankers who’d come after her at her mother’s tea parties, or picked her up at the private college gates so that they might take her out on a drive after her schooling was finished. They’d all needed winding up and pointing in the right direction. Nathaniel would not want to know he was here as her tool. He wanted to believe . . .

And, besides, boyish as he was, there remained something striking about him. The way he was looking at her now, for instance. His eyes were devouring her. Possibly he thought she was crazy. Most of them did. But Vivienne knew when a man wanted her.