‘Ta, your worship and your ladyship. That was a meal to remember. I’ll think about that when I’m living on bread and cheese or a meat pie. Anyway, I’d best go now. I don’t want to outstay me welcome.’

Kate jumped to her feet. She knew that she would receive a scolding from her mother for doing so, but she was desperate to get Spears out of the house before he mentioned Harry Trader. There had been a couple of uncomfortable moments, and she was afraid that her luck might run out at any minute.

‘I’ll see you out, Mr Spears. Thank you so much for coming.’ Ignoring the warning look from her mother and the startled expression on her father’s face, Kate hurried after Spears. Henry jumped to attention to open the front door and Kate followed Spears down the steps to the pavement.

‘Why did you invite me here?’ Spears demanded angrily. ‘Did you do it to make me look a fool?’

‘No, I didn’t. If you must know I didn’t dare tell my parents that Harry Trader is my landlord. Papa must have come across the name during the course of his work, even if we have been out of the country for three years. I would have been forbidden to have anything to do with him, so I said the first thing that came into my head. I told them that you owned the premises.’

A slow grin almost split Spears’ face in two. ‘And I thought you was so prim and proper. You’re just as big a liar as I am.’

Kate decided that this was meant as a compliment, and she managed a weak smile. ‘If you say so. Anyway, thank you for not mentioning Harry’s name. I know the soup kitchen is a nuisance for you, but it is intended to help people.’

‘If you say so, but I never tasted nothing like what we just had. If you ever need someone to make up the numbers at one of your dinners, just let Augustus Spears know. Ta-ta for now, Miss Kate.’ Spears shambled off, heading in the general direction of Whitechapel.

Kate returned to the dining room, expecting to be greeted by grim silence and accusing looks from her parents, but she found her father and Harold puffing away on cigars in between sips of brandy.

‘Your mother retired early to bed,’ Sir Bartholomew said cheerfully. ‘She has a headache. We’ll be here for a while so don’t wait up, Kate.’

Harold rose to his feet, his previously pale cheeks having taken on a ruddy glow, which was probably due to the copious amounts of sherry, wine and brandy that he had consumed during dinner.

‘It’s been a delightful evening. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Martin. I will certainly draw the attention of my congregation to the soup kitchen in Cable Street.’