Rosa didn’t think she had ever felt such fury; it was a fist clenched in a strangling hold around her throat. Ada’s crying went on and on in the background, and she longed to scream with her. ‘How dare you—’ she began, half-choking on the effort to get the words out.

‘It’s all right,’ James said quietly. He set the star carefully down on the mantelpiece. ‘I will go.’

Eustace’s eye fell on the Wardian case. ‘Kindly take your weeds with you.’

‘The orchids are a gift,’ James said, looking at Rosa rather than Eustace. He bowed. ‘Good day to you, Duchess.’

She flinched. In that moment she would have given anything to not be a duchess. And then James was gone, closing the door quietly behind him. Before she had time to think, Rosa had put Esme beside her sister and was going after him. She ignored Eustace’s barked command for her to remain where she was and caught James up outside on the drive beside his carriage.

‘I am so sorry,’ she said. ‘I hope you can forgive that shocking display.’

He turned towards her. ‘There is nothing to forgive, your grace—’

‘Please!’ Rosa’s voice came out harsher than she’d intended. ‘Would you do me a favour? Would you call me “Miss Warren”, as you used to?’

She had a sudden longing for someone to call her by her old name, even though such a request would doubtless seem strange.

‘Certainly, if that is what you would like.’ James paused. ‘I hope this doesn’t seem impertinent, but I must ask: are you all right? Here, I mean. At Raven Hall. Because if there is something amiss – anything at all – then you have only to say. I won’t ask questions. I won’t pass judgements. I won’t breathe a word of what you tell me to another living soul. I want only to help in any way that I can.’

For a wild moment Rosa thought about telling him everything, the whole sorry lot of it. She wanted to apologise for placing importance on all the wrong things. She wanted him to know how highly she thought of him. She wanted him to know the truth of what her life had become. Most of all, she wanted to ask James to take her with him, no matter where it was he might be going. He was looking at her in that quiet, steady way, and she sensed that he would do it, if she asked. She could climb right up into the carriage with him now and never look back …

But she could not leave her daughters behind. She would not.

‘Why, I am perfectly content,’ she heard herself say, whilst her heart seemed to shudder inside her chest at the lie. ‘Eustace is a boor sometimes, but that’s the aristocracy for you.’ She laughed. ‘So accustomed to having their own way.’