Rose, when she heard the news, said she would wait for Daisy.

She watched sadly as Harry nodded to her before going out. She remembered the way he had kissed her and how everything had seemed wonderful. But ever since that kiss, he had retreated into his usual cold shell.

Becket arrived and Daisy took him into Harry’s office. ‘Why’s nothing been said about us getting married?’ demanded Daisy.

Becket was a neat, precise man with pale regular features and neatly cut and greased hair.

‘I don’t think the captain’s ready to release me,’ he said.

Daisy studied him for a long moment. ‘So why didn’t the captain tell me? It’s not like him to leave you to speak to me.’ Servants, however high up, were used to their employers behaving like parents.

Becket studied the floor. There was a long silence. The gaslight hissed and popped in its bracket. A coal shifted in the fireplace. The yellow-faced clock on the wall ticked busily.

‘Fact is,’ said Becket at last, ‘I don’t feel quite ready for marriage.’

Daisy’s face flamed. ‘Then you can make a noise like a hoop and bowl off. Be damned to you, you stupid lying bastard!’

She flew out of the office. ‘Come on,’ she said to Rose. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

Rose put on her coat and hat. ‘We’ll go across the road for some tea and you can tell me all about it.’

Becket walked out past them, his head down.

They locked the door and went out. When they were settled in the café across the road, Daisy blurted out that Becket no longer wanted to marry her and then burst into noisy tears. Rose patted her back and made comforting noises. At last, Daisy blew her nose and then scrubbed her eyes dry with a clean handkerchief handed to her by Rose.

Then she realized Rose was staring across the road.

A carriage had arrived. Rose recognized that carriage. ‘Wait here!’ she ordered Daisy. She went out and crossed the street. She considered hiding in a doorway until she realized that the couple descending from the carriage were unaware of her existence.

Harry helped Dolores to alight. She smiled up at him from under the brim of a hat trimmed with pink silk roses. Harry smiled back. Then he offered her his arm and led her towards his office.

Jealousy raged in Rose’s bosom but she did not recognize the emotion as jealousy. She considered it righteous anger. By being seen so publicly with such a well-known courtesan, Harry was not only damaging his reputation, but, by association, hers as well.

For once Daisy, wrapped in her own misery, was deaf to her mistress’s complaints.

There was not very much social life in London before the Season. But there were calls to make and little supper parties to go to. And at each event, Rose received sly digs from the other ladies about her fiancé having been seen so often with Dolores.