“Our party is now complete,” Lady Hawse-Gorzley said. “Some of our neighbors have come to join us. Captain and Mrs. Sechrest—he’s a local sea dog, home on leave. Mrs. Sechrest is my bridge partner and I must say she plays a fine hand. Has a fine seat in the saddle too.”

“Pretty decent seat out of the saddle,” the lone man said, getting a titter from Mrs. Sechrest.

“Johnnie, you’re terrible. Can’t you behave for one second?” she said.

“Sorry, old bean. You know me. Got an eye for the ladies, what?” He gave her what could only be described as a smoldering look.

“And this disreputable character is Johnnie Protheroe. He’s a writer of sorts.”

“A renaissance man, Camilla dearest, if you don’t mind,” Johnnie said. “I paint, I sail, I hunt and I’m fun to be around, aren’t I, Sandy?”

Mrs. Sechrest tried to give an imitation of my great-grandmother being not amused, but it didn’t quite come off. Captain Sechrest sat there, whiskey in hand, looking frightfully bored and correct, while his wife clearly enjoyed Johnnie’s attentions.

“If you don’t mind, we’ll be having a simple supper tonight after our carol singing, and I don’t think that we’ll expect you to dress, given the lateness.”

“We’re only getting a simple supper?” Pa Wexler demanded. “Yesterday’s dinner was kinda simple too. I thought we were promised sumptuous multicourse banquets.”

“It has been our experience that guests are rather full of mince pies and good cheer by the time we return from the carol singing. I think you’ll find our simple meal quite adequate, Mr. Wexler.”

As we left the room Mrs. Upthorpe muttered to her daughter, “Eee, that’s too bad. I was looking forward to wearing one of those evening dresses we got in Paris last summer, weren’t you, Ethel?”

“It’s certainly not worth wearing them up in Bradford,” Ethel said. “They don’t know a Chanel from Woolworths, do they?”

I went upstairs thinking about the irony of this. I was the daughter of a duke. My dresses did not come from Paris. In fact, I’d be lucky to find one of them undamaged by Queenie’s ministrations. I was worrying about this as I turned the corner to go to my room and found my path blocked by Johnnie Protheroe. “Well, hello,” he said, looking down at me with what could only be described as a lecherous leer. “And who do we have here?”

“Georgiana Rannoch,” I said frostily. “How do you do?”

“I do very well,” he said. “So you’re the famous Lady Georgiana. One hears that your delectable mother is in the area. Is that correct?”

“I really couldn’t say,” I answered, uncomfortable now with his closeness. He had one hand on the wall and was leaning down toward me.