‘Coming later,’ lied Daisy.

‘Most odd. For her sake he should really stop being a tradesman.’

‘Being a detective isn’t really trade,’ said Daisy defensively.

‘The only trades that are acceptable’, declaimed the countess, ‘are tea and beer. Nothing else.’

Daisy sighed. Her stays were digging into her and the ballroom was too hot.

She rose and curtsied to the countess and made her way to the long windows which overlooked Green Park, slid behind the curtains, opened the window, let herself out onto the terrace and took a deep breath of sooty air. She wondered if she and Rose would ever have any adventures again.

Rose was making her way to the cloakroom. One of her partners had trodden on her train and ripped the edge of it. The maid on duty in the cloakroom set to work to repair the train. The door opened and Dolly Tremaine came in, tears pouring from her eyes.

‘My dear,’ exclaimed Rose. ‘May I help you? What is the matter?’

‘Nothing,’ sobbed Dolly, sitting down on a chair next to Rose. ‘I’m tired, that’s all. So many balls and parties. I never seem to get any rest. The Season begins next week and things will be worse.’

‘If I can be of any help . . . ’

‘I need a friend,’ said Dolly, scrubbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. Rose noticed with surprise that her beautiful face now bore no mark of tears.

‘Perhaps I may be your friend. I am Rose Summer.’

‘I’m Dolly Tremaine. You see, I’m a country girl and everything in London is so big and noisy and frightening.’

‘I get away from it in the mornings,’ said Rose. ‘I go out early and cycle in Hyde Park.’

‘I would love to do that,’ said Dolly, ‘but I don’t think my parents –’

She broke off as the door opened and a squat woman entered. She was wearing a purple silk gown trimmed with purple fringe. Rose thought she looked like a sofa.

‘Dolly, what are you doing here?’ she demanded.

‘My train was torn and this lady came with me to see if she could help,’ said Rose quickly.

‘Why? That’s what maids are for. Who are you?’

‘I am Lady Rose Summer,’ said Rose haughtily.

The change in the woman was almost ridiculous. ‘How kind of you to look after my little Dolly,’ she gushed. ‘I am Dolly’s mother.’

‘I was just inviting your daughter to go cycling with me in Hyde Park tomorrow morning,’ said Rose.

‘Oh, I’m sure she would love that but, alas, she does not have a bicycle.’

‘I will supply one,’ said Rose grandly. ‘Furnish me with your direction and I will send a carriage for your daughter – at nine o’clock, say?’

‘You are so very kind. Here is my card. Come, Dolly. Lord Berrow is waiting for you.’

She turned away. Dolly meekly followed.

‘But that’s my bicycle!’ protested Daisy when she and Rose were being made ready for bed. ‘The captain gave it to me!’