But long into the night, Maynard Charles wondered: have I? How long can I keep up this dance? How long can England? We’re all waltzing, waltzing like they do down there in the ballroom, waltzing while the world around us teeters on the brink. How long can any of this go on?

For long hours he lay awake, safe in his secret world, and listened to the rattle in Aubrey’s lungs – while, outside the Buckingham Hotel, the snow continued to fall.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Twenty-nine

ANOTHER NIGHT HAD FALLEN BUT, in Vivienne Edgerton’s suite, it did not matter if it was night or day. She had spent the first day after that fateful night in bed; the second she had pottered around the room, staring glassily out of the windows and nibbling at the platters of food the housekeeping staff had arranged for her. It wasn’t until the third day, when her body was beginning to feel robust again, that the boredom had truly set in – but, when it did, it was more powerful than any drink or drug that had ever flowed through her system. She tried on every one of her ball gowns. She summoned room service to bring her a collection of the latest Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar. She put countless records into her gramophone. Sometimes the snow fell so thickly that it completely occluded the world outside and it was then, a prisoner in her lonely tower, that Vivienne Edgerton truly began to feel like a captive.

She tried the door, but it was still locked.

She dozed and, some time approaching midnight, she saw the door open – and in slipped Nathaniel White. He had come last night too, the key procured for him by no less than Billy Brogan himself. Resplendent in his evening suit, his hair perfectly coiffured, he came to sit beside her on the bed. Still reclining, she reached out a hand.

‘You came.’

‘I promised I would.’

‘How was the ballroom tonight?’

‘In true flight,’ said Nathaniel joyfully. ‘The Christmas guests are in full attendance. Archie Adams played a list of classics. They jingled all the way.’ He paused. ‘I would have come sooner, Vivienne, but Hélène and I spent today choreographing our new routines to launch the masquerade ball next week at New Year. I have a spectacular planned, if only Hélène can learn it in time. Sometimes she seems so reluctant. And I am told she is not to be here, in the hotel, for four days over Christmas. Why Maynard Charles might acquiesce to such foolishness, only the heavens know. If Hélène is not here to take my instruction, then how are we to provide a night to remember at New Year?’

‘Is it the same without me, Nathaniel? I mean . . . down there in the ballroom?’

Nathaniel paused. ‘It’s been mere days . . .’