He could have lied and said he’d been delayed at the office but the truth was he was dreading yet another dinner with Verity and her parents and a number of their friends. Verity’s mother threw dinner parties at least twice a week and keeping a high social profile was everything to the family. Her father was a highly intelligent man with a fine eye for art. He collected Holbeins, Murillos, Roman marbles and statuary, as well as antique weapons: crossbows, halberds and medieval armour. Every time he went to the house Edward felt he was expected to admire something new that had been acquired. With this in mind he had deliberately delayed his arrival until he knew cocktails would be over and dinner imminent.

Glancing at his watch, he said, ‘The invitation was for dinner at eight.’

‘And cocktails at seven.’ Verity’s eyes narrowed. Edward was in one of his difficult moods – she recognized the signs. Deciding the success of the dinner party was more important than challenging him, she slipped her arm through his, saying softly, ‘But I forgive you. Come and meet everyone. The Harrisons are here and they’ve brought their niece from the Deep South with them. Oh, my word, such a country bumpkin and her dress must be at least ten years out of date. And Angeline and Scottie are back from honeymoon and positively glowing – it’s indecent.’

She continued to prattle on as she led him into the bright lights of the house, the smell of hothouse flowers assailing his nostrils and the chatter from the guests finishing their cocktails in the huge drawing room sounding like the buzz of very well-mannered bees. Once Hutton had sounded the dinner gong and they had all trooped through to the bedecked and bejewelled dining room with its snowy linen, silver cutlery, crystal glasses and more extravagant flower displays, he found himself sitting with Verity on one side and her father on the other. Josiah Kingston was in fine form, having taken receipt of an Egyptian statue that day, which had duly been admired and applauded by those present as being one of the best in his huge collection.

At what point during the meal Edward knew he couldn’t go on with the farce that was his engagement, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was when Verity asked the Harrisons’ niece, who seemed a gentle, nice girl, where, exactly, she had got her dress because she simply must have one the same, to the obvious amusement of a few of the other female guests. Or when one of their usual number who wasn’t present that night had her reputation mauled to pieces because the lady in question was seeing an employee who worked for her father’s broking firm. ‘I mean, he’s a runner for the firm, darling. Can you believe it? A runner.’ Or yet again when someone asked Verity how the wedding plans were coming along and he knew a moment of blind, unadulterated panic that made him sweat.