‘That’s beside the point. Not everything can be justified in the pursuit of fun.’ Mrs McKenzie’s mouth was puckered to a seal. ‘It’s undignified to have carrying-ons like that at the very seat of the country’s political power.’

No one spoke for several moments, but amused glances were swapped.

‘I suppose there’s a good chance the spectacles might now be here,’ Henry murmured.

‘There is no suggestion that Lady Sybil was even involved,’ the housekeeper snapped, defending Sibyl even though she hadn’t been explicitly named.

‘But there’s been plenty of photographs of her in the press with the PM’s daughter. Everyone knows they’re friends,’ the footman shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose you saw anything when you were unpacking her case, Barra?’

‘Do you think I would tell it to you if I did?’ the lady’s maid replied coolly as Effie watched her from below lowered lashes. Dark-haired with a wiry physique, she was nonetheless composed and deliberate in her actions. Clearly no pushover. ‘It would be all over Knockroon before you could say—’

‘Bogus!’ The word burst forth in the round as half the servants fell into laughter. Effie gleaned it was at Lady Sybil Wainwright’s expense; certainly she had a . . . flamboyant way of speaking that had made it hard to keep up.

‘If I hear that word one more time,’ Barra muttered, sharing a half-smile.

‘That’s quite enough impertinence, all of you,’ Mrs McKenzie said firmly. ‘Lady Sybil is at leisure to speak how she wishes. Furthermore, nothing else is to be said on the matter of stolen spectacles. You will not ascribe any further illegal or inappropriate behaviour to this household’s guests.’

‘I concur. It’s in very poor taste,’ a man said standing at the far end of the table. ‘His lordship would be appalled to hear his friends being talked about in such a tasteless manner. To defame them is to insult him.’

There was a scraping back of chairs as everyone stood, Effie a full beat behind as she saw the man who had spoken was not dining with them, but standing in the doorway, holding an overcoat and hat.

From the silence that fell upon the staff at the stiff rebuke – even Mr Graves’s head was bowed – Effie understood exactly who he was. And seemingly he knew her too, because their eyes met in silent recognition. For a moment, nothing was said, as they appraised one another; she saw a man whose face was fleshy with deep lines around the mouth, round spectacles that magnified pale grey eyes and blonde lashes, strawberry-blonde hair clipped short. She saw a man who was calm and unhurried, logical, unemotional.

She wondered what he saw as he regarded her. None of those things, certainly.