‘Well yes, yes, it would, I hadn’t considered that.’ His smile included Rose but she didn’t smile back, hotly aware of the interested glances they were attracting. Everything about Alexander Bembridge, even the way he held himself, stated that he was from the top echelons of society, so what – people would be thinking – was such a man doing talking to someone like her? ‘You’re clearly a kind and thoughtful little girl, Betsy.’

As Betsy dimpled at him, Rose said coolly, ‘We really must be making our way home, Mr Bembridge,’ her voice warmer as she said to the two children, ‘Have a lovely Christmas.’

‘Let me offer you a lift, Mrs O’Leary. I’ve got my carriage over there.’ He turned and gestured with his hand and she saw a large carriage parked a little way down the street with a coachman standing impassively by the two horses.

‘No, no, thank you. It’s not far.’

‘Please, I insist. Even a short walk in this weather is prone to mishap, the pavements are treacherous.’

‘Really, I couldn’t trouble you unnecessarily.’

Her voice had been firm but his was firmer when he said, ‘If you or the child turned your ankle and were laid low for Christmas I would never forgive myself.’

This was ridiculous. What was the matter with the man?

‘If I see you safely to your door I shall be able to enjoy my Christmas dinner all the more, Mrs O’Leary, rather than wondering if some ill has befallen you.’

His eyes held hers and in spite of herself she found she couldn’t look away. A deep twilight was falling and with the snowstorm, perhaps no one would notice if she rode with him in the carriage? Almost immediately she countered this with, don’t be silly, of course folk would notice and tongues would wag if she arrived at the house in his company. A fine carriage like his stopping at her doorstep would be noted for sure.

‘Shall we?’ He gestured again towards the waiting coach and horses, and telling herself that if she persisted in her refusal it would only prolong the awkwardness, she inclined her head in defeat. Short of being downright rude, she had no option.

The coachman was holding the door of the carriage open as they approached, and once the three children had scrambled up the steep steps, Alexander’s hand at her elbow assisted her inside. Betsy’s eyes were like saucers as she took in the plush leather seats and quilted sides and roof, and as Rose sat down beside her, opposite Alexander’s godchildren, he joined them, sitting between Rosaleen and Nicholas with an easy air that was all at odds to the way she was feeling.