“It matters nothing to me,” she said, tossing her head. “But everyone talks about your liaison with the Frenchwoman. The Viscomtesse Delmont. It’s hardly discreet.”

There was a long silence as they continued to stand beneath the trees. Then Guy said, “No, you’re quite right. Clothilde and I have never troubled about discretion. But I can assure you, Petra, that where you are concerned, I am and always will be the soul of discretion.” He started walking again, her hand still firmly tucked in the crook of his elbow.

Petra had nothing to say. He had just confirmed his relationship with the Frenchwoman as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and had said nothing about its being finished, or even about the possibility of its being over in the future. She was dumbfounded.

She kept her silence until they emerged from the garden on the far side of Berkeley Square and Guy closed the gate behind them as they stepped onto the street. He glanced down at her, a question in his dark gaze. He could detect no hostility in her preoccupation, but he could sense her sudden uncertainty.

“Will you come home with me?” he asked as they reached his front door.

Petra hesitated, then shook her head. “Perhaps not tonight, Guy, if you don’t mind. I feel rather tired. I’m sorry.”

“Dear girl, there is nothing for you to be sorry about,” he said, turning their steps towards Brook Street. “Much as I would love to spend the next few hours with you in my bed, you’re under no obligation. You never could be. You do understand that, Petra, don’t you?”

“Yes . . . yes, of course I do. It’s just that there’s nothing I would like more, except that I really am tired and I don’t think I’ll be very good company.”

Guy wasn’t fooled. “Another time,” he said quietly and silence fell between them until they reached the Rutherford house on Brook Street.

Petra made no demur as he took her evening bag and found her keys. She’d have been more surprised now if he had left her to open the door herself. But he didn’t immediately put the key in the lock, instead stood looking down at her intently for a moment. She met his gaze with a questioning smile, waiting for his good night kiss.

Instead, Guy lightly ran a fingertip over her lips, the expression in the dark eyes grave, then he said, “You need never give Clothilde Delmont a second thought, my sweet. I promise you she is of no importance at all.” Then he kissed her quickly, opened the door and stepped back off the doorstep as Foster held the door wide.