‘I was prepared to marry Bea, even though I hardly knew her. So I had to break it to Vanessa.’ He twisted the cup so the tea made brown waves inside. ‘I was a complete cad, and I knew it. Goodness knows, Vanessa didn’t deserve it. Nor did Bea. I should have taken precautions. Who wants a shotgun marriage? Just didn’t think.’ He shrugged. ‘I drank a brandy, to give myself courage. And another. Maybe two. Maybe more. Went round to Vanessa’s house, hammered on the door and blurted it out.’

His hand was shaking. He put the cup down on the edge of its saucer. Dora reached over to steady it.

‘And?’

‘Her father threatened to break every bone in my body if I didn’t do the decent thing and marry his daughter.’

‘I hope you were ashamed,’ Dora said.

Geoffrey nodded, but he didn’t look up. Dora wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the rest, wasn’t sure that she could trust a man who’d behaved so badly. She’d told him her secret, had given him her love, put her faith in – in whom? A reprobate? A scoundrel who was quivering at the prospect of prison when he’d trapped one woman and humiliated another, and could yet betray her?

‘What happened?’

‘I was in a mess. I was nineteen. I was drunk.’

‘You’re making excuses,’ Dora said.

‘Yes,’ Geoffrey said. ‘I said I was ashamed of myself. But it gets worse. I told Sir Leonard he was a two-faced bastard, balled my fist and went to smash it into his face, only he moved and I missed and fell flat on the floor.’

‘That was shocking,’ Dora said. That a young man should swear like that and resort to violence was bad enough, but to the father of your fiancée? Had he no respect? She pushed herself away from the table. ‘I don’t want to hear any more.’

‘Please. Listen.’ Geoffrey was watching her. Dora hesitated. ‘He had me arrested by the States Police,’ he went on. ‘I was still a minor. I should have been Parish-Halled, but he put me up before the Juge d’Instruction. Common assault. Drunk and disorderly. Breach of promise. He threw the book at me. Made sure I had a custodial sentence, criminal record.’ He looked up at her. ‘You don’t shake a record off lightly. And for good measure, he made sure I was roughed up in the cell with no medical attention.’

He pointed to his nose.

‘How long were you in prison?’

‘One year,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t marry Bea, though I planned to when I was released.’

‘And then she died,’ Dora said, her voice soft.