The butler scribbled away busily and then said, ‘If I may be so bold, Your Grace.’

‘Bold away.’

‘There is no need to send a long telegram. Telegrams should be brief.’

‘Indeed. What would you suggest?’

‘I am taking your daughter, Rose, on extended vacation. Stop. Convent life ruining looks. Stop. Yours, Effie.’

‘Nonsense. Too curt. Send mine.’

‘Very good, Your Grace.’

‘Am I spotty?’ asked Rose.

‘No, my dear. But your hands are red. Quite disgraceful. The captain here has been telling me the whole story of the murder of that tart. Fascinating. Quite like a Sherlock Holmes story. It will do me good to be active again. Warnford is driving me mad with his improvements. I have been covered in plaster dust and awakened at dawn by builders erecting scaffolding. Now, do have some more tea. Captain, your man may take tea in the housekeeper’s room.’ Becket rose silently and left. Daisy miserably watched him go. He had not looked at her once.

Holding a thin, fragile china cup and surveying the company with amused eyes, the duchess said, ‘We shall leave in two days’ time. It would be best if we travel to Claridge’s and then go on from there.’ Claridge’s Hotel in London was called the home of the motorocracy, the travelling aristocrats, and also used by society ladies who were tired of the strain of catering for a household of guests and preferred to let the famous hotel cater for them.

‘Once we get to Paris,’ said the duchess, raising her lorgnette and surveying Rose’s outfit of blouse and skirt, ‘we must get you some fashionable clothes.’

‘I would not like to burden you with the expense,’ said Rose. ‘We were only allowed to wear our plainest clothes at the convent. We do have plenty of fashionable items in our luggage.’

‘Nothing is more fashionable than a Paris gown,’ retorted the duchess. ‘Besides, I shall charge anything we buy to your father. My dear Captain Cathcart, do say something. You have been sitting scowling and brooding ever since the ladies arrived. Are you in love with Lady Rose?’

‘We are no longer engaged,’ said Harry.

‘That was not the question. Never mind. I must retire for a nap. Come, Lady Rose, you must be chaperoned at all times.’

Rose and Daisy retired to Rose’s sitting room. ‘Did you see Becket!’ demanded Daisy. ‘He wouldn’t even look at me!’

‘You will see plenty of him when we go to Paris,’ said Rose, ‘but it is all very uncomfortable, I must admit. The captain went on as if he barely knew me.’

‘Let’s go outside for a walk,’ urged Daisy. ‘I want to enjoy this feeling of freedom.’

They put on their coats and gloves, pinned hats on their heads and made their way out to the front of the house. ‘Nothing but trees, lawn and drive,’ said Rose. ‘There’s probably some sort of garden at the back.’

‘You know what I think?’ asked Daisy.

‘No, how can I?’