There was a studio behind the ballroom at the end of a hallway – the orchestra’s practice room and where the demonstration dancers choreographed their afternoon routines. It had no windows, no fixtures – only a single shelf on which sat a gramophone and a selection of recordings from the band itself. The room was laid with mahogany floorboards, though none of them as gleaming as the ones out in the ballroom.

Raymond de Guise was already waiting when Nancy arrived. The afternoon demonstration dances were yet to begin, and Nancy did not have to return to her rounds for another two hours. The other girls had gone off to put their feet up in the housekeeping lounge – there were scones and clotted cream left from yesterday’s afternoon tea.

Nancy knocked tentatively as she stepped through the open door.

Raymond de Guise looked up. He’s smiling, Nancy thought. Why is he smiling?

As Raymond placed a record upon the gramophone, he said, ‘I wondered whether you’d come . . .’

He turned on his heel and, with the most ostentatious bow – surely he was teasing? – he invited her to the centre of the dance floor.

‘Shall we?’ he asked.

Raymond opened his arms, inviting her into a classic ballroom hold. Nancy took a step towards him, but then she stopped. I want to, she told herself. And yet . . . Something was holding her back – something that wasn’t just nerves.

‘No,’ she said, and instantly cringed at what she’d done. Why did you say such a stupid thing? It had just burst out of her.

Raymond stepped back. ‘No?’

‘Not until you tell me why. Why me. Or do you teach every chambermaid to dance?’

By the way Raymond narrowed his eyes, Nancy could tell he was taken aback. ‘You think I’m a cad.’

She really didn’t. Rosa and Ruth, they were convinced he was a gigolo – but Nancy could not bring herself to see it. He didn’t seem a rogue.

But the worst ones don’t, do they, Nancy Nettleton? You’re not so naïve not to see that . . .

‘You don’t know me at all,’ she whispered. She could see his pained expression and something in that shocked her; it did not feel right to offend him so. ‘I’m just a chambermaid. That’s all I am.’