In Scotland Yard, Kerridge was being told that his application to search the rector’s town house had been refused and he also got a blistering lecture on his lack of sensitivity in proposing to add more grief to an already grieving family.

He felt tired. He had earlier interviewed Lord Berrow, who had simply stared insolently at him and then threatened to report him to the prime minister.

Harry heard a movement on the landing outside the drawing-room, gathered Rose in his arms and kissed her gently on the forehead just as Lady Polly entered the room.

‘You may go now,’ said Lady Polly. ‘I have cancelled my daughter’s social engagements for the next two days. After that, I will apprise you of her calendar and I expect you to be on hand to escort her.’

‘Delighted,’ said Harry and bowed his way out.

Outside, he could still somehow smell the light flower perfume that Rose wore and he swore so loudly that a lady walking her dog stared at him in outrage.

* * *

Two days later, Brum, the butler, brought in the morning post as usual on a small silver tray and placed it at the earl’s elbow as his lordship was eating breakfast.

Rose looked at the little pile of letters. Had she been a man and not a girl, she thought angrily, any letters addressed to her would have been given to her unopened. Not that there was really anything personal addressed to her, but she lived in hope that perhaps Harry might write to let her know how the case was progressing.

The earl put down his knife and fork and riffled through the letters. Then he rang the bell. ‘Give these to Mr Jarvis,’ he said to Brum. ‘Nothing of interest here.’

‘There is one letter addressed to Lady Rose,’ said Brum.

‘Is there? I didn’t notice. Let me have it.’

‘I really think I am capable of reading it myself,’ said Rose.

Her father paid no attention. He lifted up a letter and stared at it. Then he held out his hand and Brum handed him a letter opener from the tray.

‘Harrumph, let me see. Good Gad!’

‘What is it?’ asked Lady Polly.

‘Give me that letter, Pa!’ shouted Rose.

‘You go to your room, miss. You, too, Levine, and get Cathcart!’

‘What can it be?’ asked Rose, as she and Daisy sat in Rose’s private sitting-room.

‘Maybe one of your admirers sent an over-warm letter and Lord Hadshire’s getting the captain to frighten him off.’

Daisy stood up and walked to the mirror. Rose had presented her companion with a morning gown of white lace decorated with little red roses. Daisy admired her reflection in the glass and then wondered if she would ever have a chance to show it off to Becket.

She had an idea. ‘Maybe the captain will bring Becket with him and Becket will wait in the hall. I could nip down and see if he knows what’s going on.’