‘Oh, pet, I didn’t mean that how it came out,’ he apologised, crossing to her and placing his arm about her shoulders.

She forced a smile. ‘It’s all right. It’s probably just me being silly. Go and park your car up then come back and have some tea. You’ll only fret if you leave it outside.’

Tom hesitated then nodded and left the room. He’d had the doors taken off one of the stables so that the car could be parked under cover. Left alone, Sunday wandered over to the fire and stared into the flickering flames. The references the Daweses had produced from some very influential people had been faultless. They all said what a wonderful mother they thought Stella Dawes would make. The house had been beautiful too and yet … Sunday sighed, wondering why something didn’t feel quite right. Also, Mr Dawes made her feel uneasy – not that he had said a single word out of place. But then with an effort she gave herself a mental shake. You’re just jealous because you’ve cared for Maggie since she was a baby, she told herself. Come on, admit it! Of course the child deserved the chance to be a part of a normal family! Feeling slightly better, she poured out the tea and waited for Tom to return.

The following afternoon, when the Daweses were shown into the drawing room, Sunday sat opposite them, her hands folded primly in her lap, trying to ignore the shrieks of laughter coming from the hall.

‘I do apologise for the noise,’ she told her visitors. ‘Now that the snow has started to thaw we thought it best if the children played inside today. I’m afraid they can be rather boisterous.’

Tom was standing by her side. Normally he would leave things like this to his wife and her mother, but Lavinia was still in deep mourning for Zillah and he felt that Sunday might need a little support.

‘Should I bring Maggie in for you to meet her?’ he suggested.

Stella Dawes nodded excitedly. Tom strode to the door and after peering up and down the corridor he spotted Maggie playing with a dolly on the bottom stair.

‘Ah, Maggie, pet. Come and meet Mr and Mrs Dawes,’ he encouraged.

Maggie was surprised. She wasn’t usually invited to meet the guests but she did as she was told all the same and, carrying her doll, she headed for Tom, who gave her a wink and led her by the hand into the drawing room.

Mrs Dawes had risen and was standing in front of the fireplace, watching the door avidly for her first glimpse of the child who might become her daughter. However, her reaction wasn’t at all what Sunday had hoped for. In fact, her face fell when confronted with the little girl.

‘Mrs Dawes, this is Margaret, or Maggie as we call her. Maggie, this is Mr and Mrs Dawes.’ Tom introduced them and Maggie smiled at the woman. She thought the pearl-coloured silk day dress the lady was wearing was very pretty and so was she.