Her determination not to care didn’t, though, prevent her from taking extra time over her toilette that evening. Maudie had opted to get ready for the ball with her, rather than doing so in the room she was sharing with Toria. As their maids fussed around them, lacing up whaleboned corsets to give them fashionable hourglass figures, Maudie said, ‘Toria is unbearable these days. A few years ago she was always talking about the day when she would be a queen and now, with Motherdear insisting it is Toria’s duty to remain at home with her, that day is growing less and less likely. Toria is now so desperate that if only Motherdear would agree to it, I’m sure she would settle for marriage to a member of the aristocracy, as Looloo did. And you remember how scathing Toria was when Looloo accepted Fife’s non-royal proposal.’

May did remember. Toria’s unkind tongue was the reason she never sought her company.

Twenty minutes later they were both securely fastened into their ballgowns. May’s had been made in Paris and was one her mother had insisted on buying, even though the cost had been astronomical. Looking at herself in the mirror, May was, for once, glad of her mother’s recklessness with money. The gown, made of rose-pink silk, was beautiful and made her look beautiful too, instead of just passably pretty. The heavily beaded bodice had a low neckline that showed the creamy rise of her breasts; the sleeves were short and flamboyantly puffed; her hand-span waist was emphasized by a wide sash; and the shimmering skirt fell into a train edged in luscious double ruffles.

‘You look spectacular, May,’ Maudie said truthfully, pulling on elbow-high white kid evening gloves. ‘When you walk into the ballroom you’re going to be the centre of attention.’

May only wanted to see admiring attention in one pair of eyes – Eddy’s. She had, though, no intention of telling Maudie that.

Picking up her evening bag, she took one last look in the mirror. Her wheat-gold hair with its hints of auburn was worn as she always wore it: pulled back high and close to her head in tight waves, and with a low fringe of small, crisp curls that Toria had once said made her look like a poodle. Whether it did or not, it was a style that both suited her and was distinctive, and that was what mattered.

Satisfied that she had made the very best of her appearance, she followed Maudie out of the bedroom. As they headed in the direction of Luton Hoo’s main staircase – and despite all her intentions that, where Eddy was concerned, she was never going to allow it to happen again – her body began betraying her, her heart pounding in her chest.