‘And on that, no one will disagree,’ Ralph assents before turning to Gerald. ‘By the way, talking of speeches, did I tell you that we saw Charles Haversham the other day? I can’t recall whether I said. Harriet and I met him in Claridge’s – a very pleasant lunch we had there,’ he adds, nodding to Isabel next to him. ‘He passed on his regards.’

And, with that, Ralph, the consummate diplomat, steers the conversation back to the party and people they know, and to the safer arena of Westminster gossip. Harriet concentrates on her meal and tries to quell the roar that is rising in her chest.

Ralph comes to find her later, relieving her of the tedium of the inconsequential chit-chat between her mother and Mary MacKenzie. They go outside and stand, shivering slightly, in the garden. The night is clear, and the sky is full of stars.

‘I’ve escaped,’ he says, finding his cigarettes in the inside pocket of his jacket. ‘Your father was about to launch himself into a lengthy speech about the state of Ireland, so I excused myself. I’ve heard the speech before.’

‘I expect Mr MacKenzie has heard it, too.’

‘Ah, well, he probably agrees with your father. And he doesn’t have the excuse of a lovely fiancée, does he? The glum inspector looked rather envious when I said I wanted to speak with you.’

‘Envious of you having a fiancée or of you escaping my father’s tirade against the Fenians?’

‘Both, probably.’ The match flares in the darkness, lighting his face yellow for one bright moment. ‘But now I can stand out here, freezing, with you.’

He takes a draw on the cigarette and blows smoke out into the blackness of the garden.

‘Insufferable man,’ Harriet says.

‘MacKenzie? Oh, he’s alright. Like all policemen, he thinks every ruffian and good-for-nothing should be rounded up and locked away and that it is only lack of men and money preventing him from doing this.’

‘He doesn’t stop to question why girls like Ruby Mills might steal.’

‘He’s more concerned to catch her, you know, darling. That’s his job. Emptying the streets and the stores of Miss Mills and her fellow thieves.’

‘I’m not sure he stops to think about anything very much,’ Harriet replies, reaching for the cigarette.

‘He’s expressing the opinions of thousands like him – people who wonder why we ever stopped hanging thieves or why people in prison need food. I didn’t know you smoked.’

Harriet draws on the cigarette. ‘I don’t, really. Just when I’m annoyed or feeling undermined and belittled.’ She hands it back to him. ‘Or when I’m not taken seriously. God, I needed that.’

‘I take you seriously, darling.’

Harriet shivers again, saying nothing.

‘You’re cold. Here.’