He let his eyes rest on the Regency bookcase with the books he most often promised himself to reread, some childhood favourites, others from his grandfather’s library, but now, as often at the end of the day, he was too tired to summon energy for the symbiotic satisfaction of literature and turned to music. Tonight a particular pleasure awaited him, a new recording of Handel’s Semele, conducted by Christian Curnyn with his favourite mezzo-soprano, Hilary Summers, glorious sensual music as joyous as a comic opera. He was putting the first CD into the player when there was a knock on the door. He felt an irritation close to anger. Very few people disturbed him in his private sitting room, and fewer knocked. Before he could answer, the door opened and Flavia came in, shutting it sharply behind her and leaning against it. Apart from her cap, she was still in uniform, and his first words were instinctive.

“Miss Gradwyn. Is she all right?”

“Of course she’s all right. If she weren’t, would I be here? At six-fifteen she said she was hungry and ordered supper—consommé, scrambled egg and smoked salmon, followed by lemon mousse, if you’re interested. She managed to get most of it down and seemed to enjoy it. I’ve left Nurse Frazer in charge until I return; then she’ll be off duty and will drive back to Wareham. Anyway, I’m not here to discuss Miss Gradwyn.”

Nurse Frazer was one of his part-time staff. He said, “If it’s not urgent, can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“No, George, it can’t. Not until tomorrow, nor the day after, nor the day after that. Not until any day when you condescend to find time to listen.”

He said, “Will it take much time?”

“More time than you are usually willing to give.”

He could guess what was coming. Well, the future of their affair had to be settled sooner or later, and with his evening already ruined it might as well be now. Her outbursts of resentment had become more common of late but had never before occurred while they were at the Manor. He said, “I’ll get my jacket. We’ll walk under the limes.”

“In the dark? And the wind’s rising. Can’t we talk here?”

But he was already fetching his jacket. Returning and putting it on, he patted the pocket for his keys. He said, “We’ll talk outside. I suspect that the discussion will be disagreeable and I’d prefer a disagreeable conversation to take place outside this room. You’d better get a coat. I’ll see you at the door.”