She turned, at last, and found herself glaring at a large, florid man wearing a sports jacket over a stained white shirt, who appeared to have come from the front drawing room. His face turned a little pucer as he recognised her.

‘Ah, of course. The celebrated Dahlia Lively herself, Rosalind King. So glad you were able to join us this weekend. Of course, you’re an old friend of the family, aren’t you? You must come here all the time.’ With an amiable smile, he made his way over to stand beside her in front of the model.

‘Sometimes,’ Rosalind said, shortly.

Her tone didn’t put him off, or slow the wide, knowing smirk that spread across his face. ‘It’s an honour to meet you.’ He held out a hand and, reluctantly, Rosalind shook it – only to have him bring it to his lips for a kiss instead. She held back a shudder, and snatched it back.

She wouldn’t have done, back in the day. But times had changed. And besides, there had to be some advantages to growing older. Caring less about offending other people was one of them.

‘I’m Marcus. The organiser of this whole carnival!’ He spread his arms wide as if Aldermere itself was in his domain, his control. ‘We have actually met before, although I don’t imagine you remember. I played one of the teenage members of the criminal gang in the third Dahlia Lively movie with you!’

He gave her a hopeful look, for all his words about not expecting her to remember. Which she didn’t. ‘Did you really? Imagine that.’

‘Long time ago now. Anyway, I look forward to getting to know you better this weekend. I have a feeling it’s going to be the sort of event that goes down in Dahlia Lively history.’

‘For the right reasons, I hope.’ After forty-plus years in the entertainment industry, Rosalind liked to think she’d developed a good sense for people. And Marcus vibrated with the sort of energy she went out of her way to avoid. He’d made a good choice sending Clementine to persuade her to attend, she decided, as he headed for the stairs. If he’d come himself, she was certain she’d have said no, however much she was needed.

Mostly certain, anyway. Aldermere had a strange way of drawing her back in, even when she intended to stay away.

‘Of course, of course.’ Marcus chuckled to himself as he thumped up the stairs, one heavy footstep after another, his plump hand grasping the bannister. ‘I’m sure Lettice herself would approve of everything I have planned.’

Rosalind wasn’t sure that was altogether reassuring.

As Marcus’s footsteps faded, she glanced around to ensure that she really was alone, and unobserved, this time. Her knees cracked as she bent in front of the dollhouse again – daily yoga could only do so much – and looked inside.