Daisy began to worry. Was Miss Friendly really that good?

As Rose and Daisy watched the little maid working away, they were unaware that Rose had been in the society pages of the Daily Mail in London that day, describing her trip to Paris with the duchess and also with her ex-fiancé.

But Harry got the news from Becket and swore under his breath. Becket had found some English newspapers in the front hall of the hotel. Harry decided he would need to be sure that he was with Rose at all times and that she did not wander off. He knew she had bought a guidebook to Paris at the station and had voiced a desire to see Notre Dame, among other places.

When he entered Le Salon des Aigles later to meet the rest of the party, he decided not to tell Rose she had been featured in the newspaper. She would only worry. The salon got its name from the medallions depicting Fortitude, Truth, Wisdom and Abundance, each flanked by large eagles.

He stood up as Rose entered the room, thinking she had never looked so beautiful. Her white gown was cut low and clung to her figure in the new long, soft line. It was decorated round the neck and down the front with blue fleurs-de-lis. A collar of pearls set off the whiteness of her throat, and pearls were woven into her brown hair. Over one gloved arm, she carried a ruffled chiffon cape of the same blue as the fleurs-de-lis. She moved gracefully towards him over the Aubusson carpets.

He kissed her gloved hand. ‘I have never seen you look so fine,’ he said.

Rose smiled but reflected she had never felt so uncomfortable. Odette had lashed her tightly into a long corset and she wished she could escape somewhere and loosen the ties.

The duchess made her entrance. She was wearing a grey silk gown laden down with jewels. Again, she had so many diamonds on her head, her neck and about her person that Rose wondered how she could even move. Her jewels sparked fire from the Bohemian crystal objects which decorated the room.

‘So we are all present?’ said the Duchess. ‘Good. We’re off to Maxim’s.’

* * *

They could have walked because Maxim’s also fronted on the Place de la Concorde, but Becket was waiting for them in a newly hired Panhard.

The swing doors of the famous restaurant were held open for them. Hands relieved them of their wraps, although in the case of the duchess it took some time because her diamonds had become caught in her various scarves and stoles.

They made their way past the buffet with its elegant fringe of gilded youth, past the long line of tables to the end of the room, where there was an open space with more tables. A little farther and up two steps, and there was a section set about for dining with a view of the lower floor.