The housemaid had brought up some hot water in a brass can. While Carina washed, she wondered what they should do during the day. Perhaps it would be a good idea if she took Dipa off on a picnic. That at least would keep them out of Sir Percy’s way and tomorrow, if he was to be believed, he was going back to London.

She wondered if Sir Percy would accept the rebuff of the night before and cease to be interested in her, but she had the uncomfortable feeling that he was the type of man who could not accept defeat.

He wanted something and if it was denied him he would be all the keener. That, she felt, was the real danger in her way of dealing with him.

“And yet what alternative is there?” she asked her reflection in the mirror – and had no idea how lovely she looked as she asked it.

Breakfast was on the table when she went into the nursery and the footman who had carried it upstairs was setting down a large jug of milk for Dipa by his mug.

It was a typical English breakfast, two big bowls of porridge, a dish of eggs and bacon, a comb of honey and pats of butter as golden as the buttercups in the spring.

Dipa was looking at it with distaste. Carina remembered the trouble that she had experienced the day before trying to get Dipa to eat what an English boy would have gobbled up greedily.

“Do you think we could have some fruit?” she asked the footman.

He looked surprised, but replied,

“I should imagine so, miss. What would you prefer, grapes or peaches?”

Carina thought that grapes were something that Dipa might have had in his native country. She ordered some and set to work to persuade him at least to taste the porridge and the eggs and bacon.

“What did you eat with your mother in Paris?” she asked him in exasperation as he chewed some porridge round and round in his mouth and finally spat it out.

“Nasty food,” he replied.

She knew that he would not be able to remember anything he had eaten so long ago.

“Well, drink your milk,” she suggested.

But he did not like that either.

The footman came back with some grapes and several oranges. These Dipa fell on with alacrity and Carina realised that he must have had them before.

She thought it might be a good idea to ask the Dowager what they had eaten when she visited Singora, but she rather shrank from the thought of bringing up the subject of Dipa. She knew his grandmother’s feelings about him only too well.

Carina had just finished her breakfast and Dipa an orange when a footman appeared in the doorway.

“His Lordship’s compliments, miss, but would you and the Prince like to ride with him this morning?”

Carina’s eyes lit up.