As Edward walked round the car’s bonnet she was aware of him looking at her but she didn’t return his gaze, and not until he had slid in beside her and started the engine did she say, ‘I’m sorry about Mrs Duffy, Mr Forsythe. She’s something of a mother hen with her lodgers.’

‘I’m just counting myself fortunate that hens don’t have teeth.’

She kept her lips tightly together to suppress a smile; then she actually laughed aloud when he added, ‘But I hear they can give a nasty peck on occasion.’

‘She – we – were expecting Clarissa’s chauffeur.’

‘And that would have been more acceptable to Mrs Duffy?’

She didn’t know how to put what she had to say. She didn’t want to give the impression that she imagined he was interested in her in any way – she knew that was ridiculous for a man of his station in life and furthermore they hadn’t exactly hit it off a couple of days ago – but at the same time she felt she owed it to Mabel to explain. Awkwardly, she said, ‘I think she was considering how the neighbours might view someone like you arriving on her doorstep. Gossip is the lifeblood of most of them.’

‘Someone like me?’ he asked interestedly.

He must know what she meant. Her voice slightly reproving now, and determined not to feed his ego in any way, she said, ‘Let’s just say that most of the men hereabouts have a bicycle in the way of transport, and that’s if they’re lucky.’

‘Ahh . . .’ And then he sat up straighter, shooting her a swift glance as he said, ‘I haven’t compromised you in any way, have I? I never intended . . .’

‘It’s quite all right.’ It wasn’t, but she could hardly say, ‘Yes, they’ll all have me as your mistress by nightfall if they haven’t already.’

A silence ensued between them for a moment; then Edward, his voice devoid of the thread of laughter it had held thus far, said quietly, ‘Please accept my apology, Miss Morgan. I didn’t think—’ He stopped abruptly. ‘But I should have, I see that now.’

Of course he didn’t think; his world was so far removed from hers as here to the moon. She didn’t doubt that it was perfectly acceptable among the fashionable upper class and Hooray Henrys for men and women to socialize and get up to who knew what without an eyebrow being raised. But no, that wasn’t quite fair; whatever Edward Forsythe might be, he wasn’t a Hooray Henry. She slanted her eyes towards him and saw that he seemed genuinely concerned.

‘If narrow-minded gossips add one and one and make ten, that’s their mistake,’ she said softly.

‘Yes, but—’

‘Did you enjoy your dinner at Lord Rochdale’s?’