‘The ballroom is open to all, of course. It has been ever since the Grand opened its doors. But it draws a . . . certain breed, shall we say? We’re about to be full of the season’s debutantes. And there you were. I’d thought you were one of our dreamers – they get word that King Edward or one of the princes is going to be in the ballroom and they do everything they can to slip in. I had no idea you worked here.’

Nancy was lost for words. Was Raymond de Guise admonishing her – or was there, dare she think it, some admiration in his voice? Admiration for her daring? Why would a man as entitled as Raymond de Guise admire something like that?

He smiled. ‘You were fortunate that night, Miss . . .’

‘Nettleton,’ Nancy whispered.

‘Miss Edgerton has her virtues, but generosity is not one of them. If she had kept you there, while one of the general managers was summoned – why, we wouldn’t be speaking now.’

‘I know it,’ said Nancy – but, refusing to feel ashamed, she took a deep breath and looked Raymond straight in the eye. ‘I’d wanted to see the Grand for myself. I’m not a dancer, Mr de Guise. You won’t tell it to look at me, but my leg is . . . not what it might be. And yet – just to see it, if only for a few moments. It was worth what Miss Edgerton tried to do to me. I saw you dancing with Grusinskaya. I believe I saw the air between your feet and the ballroom floor.’

Raymond de Guise’s lips parted, as if he was going to say something – but it was only the hint of the smile he was trying to suppress. ‘You liked what you saw?’

Good Lord, Nancy, why are you blushing?

‘I did.’

There was a moment of silence before Raymond finally said, ‘It means a lot to hear it, Miss Nettleton. Every night I dance in this hotel, but so many of our visitors are inured to the beauty of it. They’ve danced in too many glamorous ballrooms to remember what it was first like to step into this world. So thank you, Miss Nettleton. For reminding me how that feels.’

Nancy ventured, ‘I’d love to see it again, Mr de Guise. But I think, perhaps, that my ballroom days are over before they’ve begun. I was foolhardy.’

‘I’d say you survived it, Miss Nettleton. If old Mrs Moffatt over there hasn’t summoned you to the housekeeping office and given you your marching orders, well, you’re probably unscathed.’ He grinned, wolfishly. ‘Not that I’d recommend you tempt fate twice. You’re new here. Am I right?’