She nodded back, looking up into those blue eyes she had thought she would never see again. Her voice seemed to have almost completely deserted her. She had a sense he was playing a role and that she was supposed to say certain things back, but she had no script for this. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do or who she was supposed to be in this grand room in this great house. Did the girl he’d known even exist anymore, when she could no longer do the things he’d once admired her for?

Behind him, Sibyl reached into her bag and pulled out some cigarettes. Effie recognized them because Flora’s fiancé smoked them and had told her all the Hollywood stars smoked. ‘Darling, would you?’

Sholto blinked, breaking the seal between them. Turning away abruptly, he went to walk over, startling at the sight of Margaux, now lying down on the rug. ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Sid, you promised you’d keep her in the stables.’

‘The groom wasn’t keen.’

‘Well, nor will Mama be when she sees her in here. You know what a bother we had last time.’

‘But I’ve had her declawed, I told you. Check for yourself if you don’t believe me.’

‘No thanks.’ Circumventing the cat, Sholto walked over to her and pulled a box from his jacket pocket, struck a match and held it towards her. Sibyl leant in, catching his gaze as he put the flame to her cigarette. Effie saw her wink at him. Small intimacies; their ease with one another. Was she . . .?

Sholto straightened. ‘Why aren’t you dressed yet, anyway? You know dinner’s at eight.’

‘I do, but I thought I’d pinch a little book to read in bed tonight. I glanced through a few pages and next thing I knew, I was woken to the sound of screaming.’

He looked concerned. ‘Your own?’

‘No, silly bean. Miss Gillies’s.’

‘Effie?’ He turned now to look at her again. ‘What was wrong?’

Effie frowned. Wasn’t it perfectly obvious? ‘. . . The cheetah gave me a fright.’

‘Oh yes. Of course. Well, don’t worry about her. She’s usually fine.’

Usually?

He plunged a hand into his trouser pocket and set off towards the drinks table. ‘Would you care for a drink? I need a stiff—’ He stopped abruptly again. He was standing right in front of the niche cabinet and the empty book display. ‘Sid?’ he asked questioningly, but there was an edge to his tone that made even Sibyl sharpen up.

The woman followed his eyeline, then suddenly gasped as she looked down at the forgotten-about, upended book splayed on the floor. It had fallen to a spot half hidden under one of the chairs.

‘Oh calamity!’ she cried, looking back at Effie with a look of horror and pity. Sholto followed suit. ‘Miss Gillies, what have you done?’