But to her dismay, it was Captain Harry Cathcart himself who answered the door. Daisy always found him rather intimidating. He was a tall man in his late twenties with black hair already greying at the temples and a hard handsome face with deep black eyes under heavy lids.

‘Where’s Becket?’ asked Daisy.

‘I am afraid Becket is not well. He has a severe cold and I have sent him to bed. Is that why you came? Do come in.’

Daisy followed him into the book-lined front parlour. ‘Do sit down, Daisy.’

‘You’ve to call me Miss Levine,’ said Daisy with a show of spirit. ‘I’m a companion now. I’m worried about Rose.’

‘Why? What’s the matter?’

‘You’re supposed to be her fiancé, but you’re never seen with her and people are sniggering and talking. She goes everywhere with that Sir Peter Petrey and people are thinking she might ditch you for him.’

‘Petrey? He has no interest in women.’

‘You know that, I know that, Rose knows that, but look at it from her point of view. She could marry him and have her own household and not have to worry about producing children. Why should she stick with you?’

‘Daisy – Miss Levine – you know very well that our engagement is merely an arrangement. I have been very busy. Well, I suppose I have been remiss. Where does she go this evening?’

‘Another ball. The Barrington-Bruces.’

‘Tell her I will escort her.’

‘Tell her yourself. She don’t know I’m here and she would be furious if she found out. May I see Becket?’

‘He has a bad cold and you should not be visiting gentlemen in their bedchambers.’

Just a quick word,’ pleaded Daisy.

She expected Becket’s room to be in the basement, but the captain led her up the stairs to a door on the second landing. ‘Visitor for you, Becket,’ he said and ushered Daisy into the room.

His manservant struggled up against the pillows. ‘Why, Daisy! You shouldn’t be seeing me like this.’

Harry retreated but left the door open. Becket’s brown hair, which was normally neatly plastered down above his thin white face, was sticking up all over his head. Daisy sat down beside the bed. ‘Has the doctor seen you?’

‘Yes, but he says it’s a feverish cold. I’ll be right as rain in a few days.’

‘Captain does you proud,’ said Daisy, looking around the sunny room. The walls were lined with bookshelves. There was a leather armchair in front of the fireplace, and, by the window, a handsome desk.

‘Why did you come?’ asked Becket.

Daisy told him about the captain’s neglect and Rose’s anger. ‘I think my master’s really in love with her,’ said Becket, ‘and that’s why he keeps clear of her because she can hurt him and he doesn’t like being hurt.’

‘I think they love each other,’ said Daisy. ‘I think that’s why she’s so unhappy. She’s treating me more like a servant than she’s done in ages. But he said he’d take her to the ball tonight.’