‘Well, as it happens I did need a word with you in private about something that happened while you have been away. It’s’ – he saw pink in her cheeks and realized she was blushing – ‘it’s somewhat embarrassing but I think it’s only right you are made aware of it.’

He was instantly concerned. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Me? Oh, yes. Never better.’ Which was the truth, Rose thought. The rumours had somehow cleared her mind and forced her to acknowledge that she was in love with this man. It was madness, of course, and it couldn’t come to anything, but nevertheless she loved him. The whole sorry incident had also made her furiously angry at the injustice of it all, whilst bringing out an aggressiveness she had never known she was capable of. If she wanted to walk out with Alexander Bembridge then she would do so and folk could think what they liked – they did anyway. She wasn’t going to live her life dictated to by the people around her, not any more, but if anyone said anything to her or to her child she would come down on them like a ton of bricks.

She looked at Alexander, trying to control the rush of emotion that had made her breathless when she had first seen him through the shop window. ‘Come and sit down,’ she said, indicating one of the two armchairs pulled close to the fire, ‘and I’ll get us a drink before I begin. Would you like coffee or cocoa or tea? I’m sorry I don’t have anything stronger.’

‘Coffee would be lovely.’

The small kitchen was through an archway off the sitting room and he caught glimpses of her as she prepared a tray, his heart racing every time he took in the sheer beauty of her. What on earth was she going to tell him? If anyone had hurt her he would swing for them, he thought in the army jargon that would have had his mother wincing.

She came in, served him his coffee and then sat down in the other armchair, before she said, ‘I hope this doesn’t disturb you but like I said, I feel you should know.’

He nodded. ‘Please go on.’ He couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth. It was perfect, like the rest of her.

‘It began when Betsy came home from school dreadfully upset one day. The other children had been saying things about me, things they must have heard at home.’

He sat forward in his chair, almost spilling his coffee. ‘What things?’

‘Basically that I had acquired the money to purchase the bakery from a gentleman, that he had “set me up here” was how it was put, I believe. That I was his mistress, and the bakery was in effect payment for services rendered.’

‘Gentleman?’ His face had blanched. ‘They were talking about me? I have caused this distress to you?’