The fact that the Earl and Countess of Hadshire had allowed their daughter to go out to work was the result of many stormy scenes. Rose was engaged to a private detective, Captain Harry Cathcart. His previous secretary, too fond of gin, had sobered up and taken herself off to do mission work in Borneo. Rose, who had trained herself in shorthand and typing, had promptly offered to replace her.

Her parents did not know that she had an arranged engagement with Harry. Having failed a Season, they had threatened to send her off to India, the favourite destination for all failed debutantes. Horrified, Rose had begged Harry to ask for her hand in marriage.

The reason that her parents had finally capitulated was because their daughter had previously got herself into so many dangerous situations, and Harry had pointed out she would be safer under his constant protection. Daisy had promptly volunteered to act as undersecretary to guard her mistress.

The day was cold, blustery and dark as they entered Harry’s office in Buckingham Palace Road.

Daisy lit the gas lamps, raked out the fire, piled up paper, kindling and coal, and soon had a cheerful blaze going.

From the shadow behind the frosted glass of the inner door, they could see Harry had already arrived. They hung up their coats, unpinned their hats and sat down at their respective desks.

Harry put his head around the door. ‘I have some letters for you to type. Bring your notebook, Miss Summer.’ It had been agreed to drop Rose’s title while she was at work. ‘Miss Levine, you will find on your desk various bills to be sent out.’

Rose sat primly in front of Harry, her notebook ready. Harry shot her an irritated glance. Despite the severity of her hairstyle, Rose was disturbingly beautiful, with her large blue eyes and clear skin. He often chafed at this odd engagement and wished to end it, but somehow could not bear to think of Rose with any other man.

He was a tall man with thick, dark hair going slightly grey at the temples. He had black eyes under heavy lids and a hard, handsome face.

Rose gave a little cough, wondering why he did not start dictating. Harry gave himself a mental shake and began the day’s business as Rose’s pencil flew over the shorthand pad.

When he was nearly finished, Rose heard the outer door of the office open. Then Daisy entered and said, ‘There’s a lady to see you. A Miss Dolores Duval.’ She handed Harry a little visiting card.

‘That will be all for now, Miss Summer,’ said Harry. ‘Show her in, Miss Levine.’

A subtle scent preceded Dolores. Rose blinked at the vision that entered the room. Dolores had a curvaceous figure clad in a sky-blue velvet gown. Her sable coat was thrown open. The gown was low-cut to reveal the top halves of two magnificent white breasts. On her golden hair was perched a saucy little tricorne of a hat with an ostrich plume wrapped around the top in a half circle.