They walked up the steps to the house. Effie could see the groundsmen glancing over, noticing that they were hand in hand.

‘Relax,’ Sholto smiled, feeling the tension in her grip.

The door was opened for them by Henry, his chin held high, his gaze dead ahead. He gave not a single indication that he saw their clasped hands or their closeness as they walked, but Effie knew the news would be around the servants’ hall within minutes, his every suspicion confirmed. Didn’t he have money on it? Or was that Billy?

‘Are the earl and countess back?’ Sholto asked him.

‘They’re expected any moment, sir,’ Henry replied, still staring at a fixed point on the wall.

‘Good. Would you ask them to meet us in the blue drawing room when they arrive?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Sholto squeezed her hand as they walked through the hall into the drawing room, Henry’s footsteps receding behind them. He went over to the fireplace and pressed the button that would ring the bell downstairs and send Mr Graves up to them.

He turned back to her, so handsome in his suit, his eyes burning as he took in the sight of her standing in the middle of the carpet. ‘You look like a stray fawn that’s wandered in from the woods,’ he laughed softly. ‘Come here.’

She walked over, feeling feral in a room of silks.

‘Relax. This is your home now.’

‘But—’

‘No buts. This is your home.’ She looked back at him as he put his hands in her hair, cupping her head as he kissed her properly, not the way he had earlier in front of her father when they’d jumped the broom, but like last night in the maze, when there had been no one else around. She felt her body relax. Was he really hers? Was she really his?

They heard the first rattle of the doorknob as it turned and she leapt away, cheeks flaming. If the earl and countess were to find them like this—

‘Thank you, Graves,’ Sholto laughed, seeing her panic. He shoved a hand into his trouser pocket. ‘That was quick, I must say. I’ve asked Henry to show my parents in here when they arrive. Would you put some champagne on ice?’

Champagne? It was scarcely midday. Effie felt as shocked as the butler looked.

‘Actually, my lord, I’m afraid I was already on my way up when the call came.’

Sholto frowned. ‘Oh?’

‘I’m afraid there’s been some . . . commotion, below stairs.’

‘Commotion?’

The butler looked pointedly at Effie before looking back at him again, his point clear.

Sholto walked towards her and made a point of clasping her hand again. It felt shocking and bold to her, but Sholto was defiant. ‘Anything you have to say, you can say in front of Miss Gillies.’