“Getting you out of here before someone recognizes you, of course,” he hissed in my ear.

“I don’t know what you’re making such a big fuss about,” I said. “If you hadn’t reacted in that way nobody would have noticed me. And I really was coming to offer my services, you know.”

“You may well have been, but it is not unknown for gentlemen of the press to prowl the big London stations in the hope of snapping a celebrity,” he said in that gravelly voice with just the trace of an Irish brogue, while he still propelled me along at a rapid pace. “It’s not hard to recognize you, my lady. I did so myself in a London tea shop, remember? And can you imagine what a field day they’d have with that? Member of the royal family among the down-and-outs? ‘From Buckingham Palace to Beggar’? Think of the embarrassment it would cause your royal relatives.”

“I don’t see why I should worry about what they think,” I said. “They don’t pay to feed me.”

We had emerged from the soot of the station through a side door. He let go of my arm and stared hard at me. “You really wanted that disgusting slop they call soup?”

“If you must know, yes, I really did. Since my last attempt at a career last summer—a career you cut short, by the way—I haven’t earned any money and, the last time I heard, one needs money to buy food.”

His expression changed and softened. “My poor, dear girl. Why didn’t you let someone know? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Darcy, I never know where to find you. Besides, you seem to be broke yourself most of the time.”

“But unlike you I know how to survive,” he said. “I am currently minding a friend’s house in Kensington. He has an exceptionally good wine cellar and has left half his staff in residence, so I don’t do badly for myself. Are you still all alone at Rannoch House, then?”

“All alone,” I said. Now that the shock of seeing him in such upsetting circumstances had worn off, and he was looking at me tenderly, I felt as if I might cry.

He steered me to the edge of the curb and found a taxi sitting there.

“Do you think you could manage to find Belgrave Square?” he asked.

“I could give it a ruddy good try, mate,” the taxi driver replied, obviously only too glad to earn a fare. “At least we won’t have to worry about traffic jams, will we?”

Darcy bundled me inside and we took off.

“Poor little Lady Georgie.” He raised his hand to my cheek and stroked it gently, unnerving me even more. “You really aren’t equipped to survive in the big world, are you?”

“I’m trying to,” I said. “It’s not easy.”