‘Nonsense, Kate,’ Perry said firmly. ‘I’ll send one of the clerks to hail a cab and I’ll see you safely home. You’ve had a terrible shock.’

Sir Bartholomew slumped down on a chair by the fireplace. ‘I wish I’d had such a shock. I mean, of course I’m sorry my brother was killed, but the money would have been very welcome.’

‘I don’t know how you can stand there and talk about money when your brother has been murdered,’ Kate said angrily. ‘Shame on you, Papa.’ She walked out of the office without giving him a chance to respond.

Perry caught up with her in the main office. ‘Franklin, will you send one of your juniors to hail a cab, please? Miss Martin has just received some bad news. I’m going to see her home.’

‘Of course, sir.’ Franklin cast a sympathetic look in Kate’s direction. ‘I am so sorry, Miss Kate. I’ll go myself; the cabbies know me. I send much trade their way.’ He hurried from the building, returning moments later to announce that a cab was waiting on the corner of the square.

It had been a day that Kate would prefer to forget, with one shock after another. First she had discovered that Harry Trader was a leading a double life and then she had learned that her beloved uncle had been killed in the uprising. Not only that, but suddenly she was an heiress, and Perry had confirmed that it was a substantial sum. Sir Bartholomew had shown him his brother’s will. The sad truth was that she did not want the money, even though it would solve all her financial problems. She would rather have had her uncle safe and sound, and of course that wish must include Ashok. She was desperate to learn of his fate, but the only way to find out would be to travel to India, and that was out of the question with the current state of affairs.

Kate sat by the window in her bedroom, gazing down at the shadowy gardens, and the clouds of moths that fluttered around the streetlamps like tiny fairs dancing in the gaslight.