‘Let me tell you something, Miss Edgerton. Your stepfather and those like him, men of great means – they do contribute. Without men of great wealth, establishments like the Buckingham would evaporate. Thousands of livelihoods would vanish, just like that. Thousands of families would be back on the breadline. And, without the money they earn, thousands more would feel the effect – all the bakeries they go to, all the haberdashers they frequent. Great wealth doesn’t sit still. It ripples out, like a stone dropped in a pond. It provides. That’s why . . .’ He paused. ‘That’s why what we do here at the Buckingham is so important. That’s why it has to survive.’

Was Vivienne mistaken, or was there something faintly anxious in the way Maynard Charles had started to speak? Whatever the case, she had not come here for a lesson in economics. ‘My stepfather doesn’t care for the people this hotel supports. He cares for the way the manager at Lloyds fawns all over him each time he makes an appearance. No, profit isn’t good enough for me, Mr Charles. I want to help.’

Nodding, Maynard returned to his desk and picked up his fountain pen once again.

‘Find a way to satisfy your needs – but, if you would, do it without provoking the attention of your stepfather. There are choppy waters ahead for the Buckingham Hotel. I would rather navigate them without my eye being drawn to another one of your “problems”. Are we agreed?’

Vivienne stood, smarting as she smoothed down her gown. Only when she was back at the door, listening to the sounds of a Viennese waltz drifting up from the ballroom, did she look back.

‘Is everything all right at the Buckingham, Mr Charles?’

Maynard barely looked up as he constructed his reply. ‘We must achieve some sense of balance, Miss Edgerton. Some new normality. Since King Edward abdicated, we are without our principal benefactor. Reputation matters in an establishment like ours. Hence, efforts like our inaugural Spring Ball. Hence . . .’ He laid down his fountain pen and looked up. ‘You must already know, from rumours in this hotel if not from your stepfather himself, that we are seeking new investment. Our eyes have turned to America, Miss Edgerton – because if I am right, and war is to come to the Continent, we will not be able to count on our German dignitaries for very much longer.’

His tone was grave, and now Vivienne understood why. All the time she had once spent dallying in the Candlelight Club and hotel restaurants had to be filled, and for the first time in her life she had lately deigned to look at the broadsheets. She had read all about Mr Hitler. But all-out war? She was too young to recall the Great War itself, but surely men could not be so foolish as to risk it again?