“That’s settled, then.” Mummy looked smug. “You should find a delightful little wayside inn and have a night of unbridled passion.”

“Mummy!” I couldn’t even look at Darcy and my cheeks were burning.

“Well, why not?” she said. “I would. And poor Darcy’s positively panting for it.”

“I’m not like you,” I said.

“And I don’t think that I could justify a night of passion at an inn on expenses,” Darcy quipped, to spare me my embarrassment, I suspect. “We’ll settle for a day out alone, with no interruptions. Right, Georgie?”

I beamed at him. “Perfect,” I whispered.

Mummy stood up and smoothed down her linen slacks. “And if you do decide to spend the night along the way, don’t worry about your poor, aged mother, left all alone here. I’m sure I’ll survive.”

“No doubt Mr. Chaplin is in the neighborhood and he’d be delighted to keep you company,” I teased. “By the way, what was he like?”

“Rather fun, actually. Only please, this must remain entre nous. Max wouldn’t like it.”

Darcy and I exchanged a grin. He got to his feet too. “I’d better send that cable to England right away. As soon as I know my instructions I’ll be able to rent that car for us.”

“Heavenly.” I beamed at him. “And speaking of cables—did you ever learn the truth about Algie Broxley-Foggett?”

“I did. He’s exactly what he claimed to be—a silly young twit. The family is quite wealthy and he’ll inherit a title one day. Hasn’t exactly been a good boy all his life. Sent down from Oxford for cheating. No criminal record since. Father’s a military man who despairs of him.”

“So he really was sent to America to make a man of him,” I said. “I don’t think it will work, do you? I think he’s a dedicated sponger and con artist.”

“Good God. Speak of the devil,” Darcy said. We looked up to see Algie coming toward us, followed by Belinda. Their clothing was now dry, but they definitely looked like survivors of a shipwreck—as I had done when I first glimpsed myself in the mirror back at the hotel. Algie’s white flannels were smudged with soot and horribly crumpled. His white V-necked pullover appeared to have shrunk. Belinda’s normally perfect hair hung limp and straight and she was wearing no lipstick or rouge. For once she didn’t look better than me!

“Oh, there you are. Jolly good show,” Algie said. “We hoped we’d find you here. We’re orphans in the storm, you see. No clothes, no money and nowhere to go. Don’t quite know where to turn, either. Simply can’t wire the pater for a handout.”