Her hand was on his elbow. He froze. ‘Miss Edgerton, I really must—’

‘I want to say I’m sorry. If I . . . ruined the dance for you. And . . . for all those people out there. I didn’t mean to. It’s not what I wanted. And . . .’ She hesitated again, smacking her dry lips. The poor girl was parched again – no doubt the effects of whatever was in her system – and Raymond reached for the glass of water she’d left behind. ‘You looked so elegant out there tonight, Mr de Guise. You truly did. With Grusinskaya on your arm and . . . What it must feel like to move like that across the dance floor! But I . . .’ And here she found her steel again, her voice regaining its edge. ‘I know it isn’t for me. I know it wouldn’t be becoming for me to be there every night. But I do dream of it, you understand. The life you lead, and Miss Marchmont as well. One day, you know, I’ll be a married woman. My stepfather will see to it. I’ll be looked after and I’ll be kept quiet, and hang all of the dreams I used to have. And then I see you and Miss Marchmont and I wonder . . . what might it be like, to be the person you want to be? To be good at something, to learn something, to always have a partner, to be admired.’

Raymond was silent. There was something else Vivienne Edgerton wanted to say, but she couldn’t find the words.

‘Mr de Guise,’ she said at last, ‘you said once before that you’d show me a few steps. A little something, just to satisfy my curiosity. It’s all I . . .’

Raymond could still feel Mrs Moffatt’s eyes on him. He was not sure if that was a sympathetic stare, or if she was warning him. But when he looked down, Vivienne seemed so wretched. ‘I’ll share some steps with you soon, Miss Edgerton,’ he said, ‘but on one condition.’

‘Anything,’ she whispered, and seemed composed for the very first time that night.

‘Sober up, mademoiselle,’ said Raymond, and he slipped out of the office.

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Dearest Frank,

I have been such a fool. Such a sorry, sorry fool!